Always Only You by Chloe Liese (z-lib.org).epub

imperfection, it’s beautiful to me.”
Her face falls. “Some imperfections aren’t so beautiful, Ren.”
“No. Perhaps not.” I slip my fingers through her hair. “But if they’re yours, I
love them. And you love mine.”
She grabs my wrist, stilling my hand. “I need to explain this. I need you to
understand.”
Smoothing her cheek with my fingers, even as she holds my wrist captive, I
stare down at her. “I’m listening.”
Frankie holds my eyes as often as she can, before they dance to my body, the
fire, my mouth, my hair. “Something my therapist said to me a few weeks ago…
I’ve spent a lot of time thinking about it.”
I wait for her, listening in silence but for the snap and pop of the cured wood
roaring in the fireplace.
“She said you can’t believe someone’s love for you until you think that
you’re worthy of it,” she says quietly, staring at the fire. “You have to love
yourself. And in that way, I think you are far ahead of me, Ren.”
“How do you mean?”
She sighs. “Some days I do feel cynical. Other days I’m optimistic. I think
that on hard days, when everything hurts and everything feels difficult, I don’t
find myself very lovable. And I know it’s not true, that I’m not allowed to
struggle, that I’m not lovable when I do, but it feels…real.”
I pull her close.
Frankie blinks up at me, breathtakingly lovely, lit by the fire, bare and rainwashed,
wary and hopeful. “Does that make sense?” she asks.
“I think so. I’m not saying it’s the same, but it reminds me a bit of when I
spiral into old places from the bullied years. Telling myself I don’t fit, that I
can’t get it right, that I’m not good enough because I’m not a ‘normal dude.’”
“What do you do when that happens?”
“Sometimes I call Ryder and just let him make me laugh. Other times, I
reread a book that was the escape I needed at a critical moment in my past, that
made me feel like I belonged. Most often, I just count down the minutes until I
see you again. Because you, Frankie, have always made me happy. You have
always made me feel like I’m exactly who I’m supposed to be, that it’s good.”
She sniffles. “How? I’ve always been so surly.”
I laugh. “Maybe that was why. You were the nicest surly grump I’d ever
met. You cared. You seemed like you at least picked up on those parts of me that
I tried to minimize. Like the parts that I felt made me weird were actually the
parts you liked best.”
“Ren,” she says, cupping my cheek. “You are weird.” We both break down