Love Bug (The Prescotts Book 3) by Tara Wyatt (interesting books to read txt) 📕

“Then as much as it would’ve sucked and as painful as it would’ve been, I would’ve had my answer.”

“When he was here, I gave Max so many chances to let me in and tell me his side of the story. To open up in the way that I need. And he didn’t.”

“Did you ask him to?”

“Well…” She picked at a loose thread on the throw pillow in her lap. “No. I didn’t want to have to ask.”

Lauren laughed softly, not at Willa but in commiseration. “Ah. Well, these Prescott men have a lot of positive attributes, but sometimes you really have to spell things out for them. Especially anything to do with emotions, their own and other people’s.”

Willa bit her lip, turning over Lauren’s words. She wanted Max to open up, but was it fair of her to expect him to know what she needed without telling him? Or was that just setting everyone up for disappointment with hidden expectations and blind attempts at meeting each other’s needs?

“You’ve asked for some time and space to think everything over, and I think that was smart. You know that Max isn’t going anywhere. He loves you, and you love him. Think about what you need. What you want. What’s non-negotiable for you. And then, when you have your answers, tell him. What he does with that information is up to him, and will show you if the future you want is possible.”

“That’s what I’m afraid of,” she said quietly. “That I’ll ask him for a level of vulnerability he just doesn’t know how to give.”

“And if that happens, we’ll all be here for you, Willa.” Lauren sighed. “I remember just how hurt I was when I thought things weren’t going to work out with Theo. God, hurt isn’t even a big enough word. I was devastated. I felt like my entire world didn’t make sense anymore. These Prescotts…they’re easy on the eyes but hell on the heart, sometimes.”

Willa was pretty sure that truer words had never been spoken. They talked for a while longer and when they hung up and her wine glass was empty, she moved from the couch to her bedroom, sprawling out on the bed and staring at the ceiling.

Talking to Lauren had helped. Willa’s thoughts were slightly less scattered and she didn’t feel quite so raw. He’d lied, but about a traumatic event that would be difficult for anyone to talk about. That didn’t mean he wasn’t capable of what she needed. It didn’t mean he was, either, though.

She loved Max. She wanted a future with him, but that future had to include trust and honesty. Openness and vulnerability.

And she just didn’t know if he could give it to her.

Sweat ran down Max’s bare chest in rivulets, coating his skin. His hair was damp and stuck to his temples. He’d pushed himself past the point of exhaustion, and it still wasn’t enough. It wasn’t enough to silence the voices in his head that whispered over and over again that he’d hurt Willa. That he was a liar. That he wasn’t good enough for her. Too damaged. Too broken.

He wiped sweat out of his eyes with the back of his arm and then tapped his boxing gloves together. “Let’s go another round,” he barked out to his cousin Noah, who was equally shirtless and equally sweaty.

He’d taken Noah up on his invite of coming out to Jersey City to the boxing gym he co-owned with several other firefighters from his station. He’d found himself wanting the company and wanting the exercise. Wanting the excuse to pummel the shit out of something or someone. So here he was, in Jersey, boxing with Noah while Noah’s younger brother Hudson watched impassively, his heavily tattooed arms crossed over his chest.

“You sure? I’m pretty gassed,” said Noah, brushing a stray lock of sweaty hair out of his eyes.

“Yeah. Let’s go.”

It had been five days since Willa had closed the door on him, and he hadn’t heard from her. She’d taken a two-week vacation from work, and he honestly didn’t know if she’d ever be back. The Times article had been embarrassing for her, humiliating really, and he wouldn’t blame her if she was looking for a job somewhere else. The one spot of good news was that thanks to his legal team, the Times had printed a retraction and apology on the front page.

As he sparred with Noah, fresh anger sparked to life inside of him, his entire body flushing with heat that had nothing to do with boxing. He was an asshole for lying to Willa. He was an asshole for hurting her, for even putting her in a position where she’d been susceptible to being hurt.

But, as he landed a jab on Noah’s jaw, he realized that a couple of months ago, he would’ve been angry at himself for even getting involved with her in the first place, knowing he should’ve stayed far away from her. But he wasn’t. He couldn’t bring himself to regret a single second with Willa, and he wasn’t sure if that meant he’d grown, or if he was just a selfish bastard.

Selfish bastard. The words echoed through his brain, spurring fresh pain and he took it out on Noah, throwing punch after punch until his arms screamed and his vision blurred with sweat and he felt as though his lungs might give out.

“Hey! Hey, hey, hey!” Noah yelled and shoved him back, hard. “Easy, Max. Jesus.”

His chest heaved as he stepped back, leaning against the ropes. “Sorry. Fuck. Sorry.”

Five days. Five days of space and silence and it was killing him. He felt like he was being eaten alive by the frustrated, helpless desperation inside him.

He might lose Willa. He might lose the love of his life. And he didn’t know what he’d do with himself if that happened.

But she’d asked for space. So that’s what he was giving her while praying with