Chapter 10
I take more time than I need to in the shower, just to give them some time to talk, but they're still going at it when I get back. They're sitting on the floor, with their backs resting on the far wall. Steve's speaking quietly.
"I think maybe both. Or neither. I don't really know; I think it wouldn't have mattered. They weren't him." He shrugs and looks up when he hears me approaching. A smile makes its way to his lips when his eyes meet mine and I can hardly believe it.
"Need a little more time?" I ask, but he's shaking his head no before I'm done talking.
"Nat has to go, she was just keeping me company until you got back," he says, and I offer him a hand to help him get up. The fact that he takes it with no hesitation -even if he doesn't need it- makes my chest flutter. Without even realizing it, I do the same for Nat, offering her a hand, and she takes it too. I only notice how big of a deal it is when she lets go of me, already on her feet. She didn't even flinch.
"You guys want a ride somewhere?" we're already out and she's got the keys to a car in her hands.
Steve shrugs, looking at me, "I was thinking we could take a walk. You're up for it?" I nod, a walk through the city sounds perfect. Nat says her goodbyes and -to my surprise- she leaves on foot.
"She probably parked a few blocks away, I can recognize the sound of her car. I would've seen her coming," Steve explains as he locks the gym's doors, and I'm gonna have to ask him how the hell he does that. That reading my mind trick is getting a bit weird.
I'm wearing a jacket and a hat I found in the locker, so it's nice to be out. I don't think it'll be too much of a risk. We walk slowly, buy some 'authentic Italian ice cream' and then keep walking as we eat.
"Oh, god," I leave out when I taste it.
"I know, right?" he replies. He told me it was good, but I didn't expect it to be this good. I'm a little taken aback when he offers me a taste of the flavors he picked, using his spoon, just because we're in public and anyone can see, but I take it pretending I don't feel the heat in the back of my neck. I give him some of mine and he takes them with no doubt in his movements, telling me he'll ask for one of mine the next time we come.
The fact that there can actually be a next time makes my heart feel like a swell up balloon.
By the time we get to his place, it's already dark out. "So… everything OK with Nat?" I ask. I haven't said anything about it until now because I thought it was a too delicate matter to be discussing it out on the street.
"She advised me to take some time off. Maybe go somewhere, fall off the radar," he answers as he takes off his jacket. "They won't turn you in as long as you're with me," he adds when I take mine off too.
"That's great." He's taken a bottle of water from the fridge and he opens it before offering it to me. I take it and nod as a thank you before drinking.
"They're good people". I give the bottle back and he takes a sip too.
"She noticed," he says, and I throw him a curious look. "About us," he explains. "She noticed we're… a thing." My eyebrows shoot up, and I make a non-committal sound as I take the bottle again and take another drink, just so that I have an excuse not to talk. I wasn't really sure if he thought we were a thing.
"Yeah, she's been trying to get me a date for quite some time now," he adds. I nod and try not to sound too interested.
"And what did she say?" I brace myself for hearing the warnings she must've said. I know she must've told him to be careful, that things would be too complicated with me. God knows she would be absolutely right if she said something like that, but he just smiles.
"She was really happy for me," he whispers, and I straight out laugh, because he's surely joking.
"Come on, man. You can tell me, I won't be upset," I'm still amused, but he's furrowing his brow.
"She was," he says, sounding confused, and I throw him a look. "Buck, I'm telling the truth. She literally said she was happy I found you." I roll my eyes
"Yeah, sure. Because you really won the lottery with me. I'm quite the catch." I'm just joking, but he seems upset now.
"Yes, you are." I shake my head and start walking towards the bedroom, because this whole thing is starting to make me uncomfortable.
"Of course, man. Dating psycho assassins should be right up there with dating doctors and lawyers."
"OK, enough. I'm getting really sick of this, man." I turn to him.
"Come on, it's just a joke," I say, putting my hands up as a sign of surrender, but he's shaking his head.
"You're trained in questioning techniques, right?"
I frown, confused about the sudden change of subject, but then I nod. "What does that have to do with anything?"
He takes two chairs, lines them up one facing the other and gestures for me to take a seat in front of him. "What are you doing?" I ask, shaking my head.
"Just humor me, would you?" he answers, not really answering at all, and I roll my eyes and sit. He takes my right hand and puts it on his wrist, placing my fingers right where I can feel his pulse.
"Do me a favor and tell me if I'm lying, OK?" I look at him like he's gone mad, because he clearly has, but he makes it a point to ignore the question in my eyes. "My name is Steven Grant Rogers," he says, slowly and clearly. "I was born in Brooklyn." I think he might have done this before too, because he definitely knows what he's doing. He's setting up his standard pulse by telling me a few true statements, giving me a base parameter to work with. "My birthday is July 4th." He probably has no idea I fall asleep every fucking night listening to his heartbeat.
Just based on his pulse, I could tell if he's lying better than I could about myself. I don't tell him that, though. That'd be way too much. So when he asks: "Is that OK?" I just nod and keep looking at him in the eye, expecting some kind of explanation. He sighs and swallows.
"You are a good person," he says, and I scoff. That's just bullshit. "Am I lying?" he asks, and I roll my eyes.
"Come on, man. This is stupid." I try to let go, but he doesn't let me.
"Buck. Tell me if I'm lying," he waits a few seconds and then he repeats himself: "You are a good person"
"This is bullshit, man, just drop it."
"Babe, just tell me if I'm lying. That's all I'm asking." Did he really need to call me that? Fuck. What kind of fucked up game is he playing? I rub my face with my free hand and the metal feels cold against my skin. I don't really want to play along, but I give in after a moment.
"No, you're not," I finally leave out between my teeth in a fed up tone.
"Good," another pause. "I think the things you did all those years were not your fault," I look away, unable to hold his gaze, I'm feeling my eyes starting to well up, and I realize I can't handle this.
Why would he say that? How could he even think something like that? "Steve, come on, man. This is bullsh-"
"No," he cuts me off. "Look at me, damn it, you need to hear this." I take in a broken breath, and he lowers his tone again, softens it. "Buck, please. You don't even have to tell me if I'm lying or not, just listen to what I have to say, OK?" he asks, and I close my eyes for a bit. "Please?"
I take a moment to breathe deeply a few times, and then nod once and stop trying to take my hand away. He takes a few seconds more before speaking again. "I'm proud of you," he says. His heart rate is so steady it makes a knot in my throat. "Like, really proud of you." I'm crying now. Silently looking at him, trying so hard to believe what he's saying. "The things you've overcome, the way you're kind in spite of it." I take another broken breath.
"I am not afraid of you," he continues. My ears are ringing and I'm afraid I won't be able to hear him if it gets any worse. "I trust you." He says, and I close my eyes again. I know he's telling nothing but the truth. His pulse hasn't changed one bit since we started. No one could control something like that. Especially him. He's always been such a lousy liar.
He lets go of my hand, but I don't take it away. I'm frozen. Caught between feeling like I have to run away and wanting so badly to stay. He cups my face with his free hand and I lean into his touch. "I hate that you got hurt, but I really do like your scars. They talk about how strong you are, about how amazing it was that you came back from something like that." He smiles. "You're the most beautiful person I've ever seen," he says, and I laugh involuntarily. "Did I lie?" He sounds playfully offended, so I shake my head.
"And I'm sorry. I know it's selfish, because you've been through hell to be here, but I'm so glad that you are. I feel so lucky that you're with me. So so lucky."
His thumb wipes a tear from my face, and I turn to kiss his palm. "Losing you was the hardest thing I've ever had to do," he's whispering now, "and I'd gladly give my life before doing it again." I can't take my eyes off of his now. They are so tender, so unbelievably sweet. He's hypnotic. "Buck, I've loved you ever since I can remember, and I've been in love with you for quite some time now. So please stop doubting that, OK?"
I can feel the tears rolling down my face relentlessly now and I must be a fucking mess, and I'm so tired. I feel drained and full at the same fucking time. And why would he? Why would he love someone who has done the things I've done? Someone with my issues and my nightmares and my scars.
I slowly take his hand from my face, taking it in mine before kissing it and leaving it close to my mouth. "But I'm not really me… I'm so broken, Stevie," I whisper back, daring to speak because he hasn't told me a single lie this entire time, because he's brave and has real fucking courage, and it makes me feel like he deserves the same from me. No. He deserves so much more. But this is something I can give him.
He gives me a little smile, sweet and simple. "Then I love every single piece of you," he replies and wipes my face with both hands before kissing my cheek. He stands as he comes closer and I follow him, so that we can be a lot closer. He wraps his arms around me to hug me. At first I feel like there's something wrong with me for wanting to be this close, like I should end it and pretend I'm fine. But then he whispers "No, don't let go," and I know it's ok. I'm not fine, and I do need him to hold me. I melt into it, hugging him back and burying my face on the side of his neck. I can't help the tears that wet his skin, but he doesn't say anything about them, he just holds me tighter and kisses the side of my face.
I should tell him that I love him too, that he's the best thing that's ever happened to me -because he absolutely is-, but I can't get my mouth to pronounce the words. I can't get them out of my chest, so I stop trying and just stand still, letting him hold me in one piece, so that, even if it's just for a while, I get to feel whole again.