"It's gonna keep getting in the fucking way if I can only touch you in certain places," I say, and I'm not berating him for it. It's just the truth. I want things to be better just as much as he does, but just willing it away hasn't seemed to work, yet.

"I'm walkin' on fuckin' egg shells with you, Mike," I admit, my lips pressed against the corner of his mouth. Whether he's done it on purpose or not, he's taken control of every single situation we've been in in these last few months. I push forward and I pull back all based on how he reacts, what he wants, and I'm fine with that, because that's what he needed, but it's apparently not what he wants. Or maybe it is. Who the fuck even knows.