We spilled into his door, and I gratefully peeled off my heeled boots and coat. I’d never been more ready to get into PJs and get into bed.
“It’s a waste of money, you know?” When I turned to look at Reid, he was standing there, rubbing the back of his neck. He looked pained, like he didn’t want to say whatever it was he was about to say next.
“Look, I know it’s none of my business, but gambling—playing the lottery—I know you won once, but it’s still a hell of a way to burn through money. I-I just hope you’re being careful.”
My cheeks burned, either from embarrassment or because I was secretly pleased he cared enough to bring it up.
“I don’t play that often,” I said.
“Pulling over at midnight just to buy a ticket?—”
“It was a thing with my grandma,” I said, before he could lecture me further. “You’ll probably think it’s silly, but any time one of us had a hard day, we’d buy a lottery ticket. She always said it was the best time to try, because our luck was bound to take a turn.”
Reid jerked his eyes up from the floor to study me.
“Oh,” he finally said.
“The ticket I won with? I bought it the day of her funeral.”
His eyebrows drew together. “Shit, Hazel. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t be talking to you like you’re an irresponsible kid or something.”
I laughed, moving into his house and plopping myself down on his couch. “I mean, Iamkind of irresponsible. Struggled with it my whole life.”
“Seems like you had to do a lot on your own,” he said. Instead of sitting at the end of the couch, he sat down half on my cushion, our knees bumping.
“Not really. Gran was always there for me.”
“Parents,” he said carefully. “Friends. Those are important life pillars too.”
I pursed my lips, thinking about it. “There was always a hole. A small one,” I admitted softly.
“It’s okay to say that.” Reid took my hands in his as I squeezed my eyes shut.
“Gran did everything for me. I owe her everything. She raised me when she didn’t have to. She made all of these happy moments in my childhood when there shouldn’t have been any.”
“It’s not being ungrateful to admit you missed out on things,” he whispered.
“So many people have less.”
“And so many people have more.” He tilted his head down, dragging my gaze back to his. “That doesn’t mean you have to suppress how you feel.”
Another tear escaped the corner of my eye and I laughed, taking one of my hands from his and wiping it away.
“Stop making me get all sentimental.”
Reid’s face remained stoic. “I worry about you.”
That snagged on my heart. Here I was, rapidly forming a kind of huge crush on the guy, and heworriedabout me? I mean, sweet in theory, but it wasn’t exactly what a girl wanted to hear.
“You don’t have to worry about me.”
“Don’t I?”
We stayed quiet for a moment, searching for something in the silence between us. Suddenly, every part of my body came alive. I was hyper aware of every microscopic skin cell in the hand still entwined with Reid’s.
“I’ve always been alright,” I whispered.
“What if I want you to be more than alright?”
