16
There’s a knock on my door around midnight.
I already know who it is.
I shouldn’t open it. Ireallyshouldn’t.
But I do.
Will stands there, his Stetson in his hands like he’s a schoolboy coming to apologize for something he can’t take back. His eyes find mine, shadowed and unsure.
“Can I come in?” he asks quietly.
I step aside.
He walks in slowly, looking around like it’s unfamiliar territory even though he’s been here before.
“Looks good in here,” he says.
“Thanks,” I reply, voice too tight.
He turns to face me, and something in his eyes cracks the dam I’ve been trying to hold together since I walked away from that damn truck.
I don’t think.
I justmove.
I throw myself into his arms, pulling his head down, my mouth crashing into his like maybe I can force the truth outof him with the desperation in my kiss. His arms wrap around me instantly, strong and steady, pulling me close like he’s been aching to.
He kisses me back like a man trying to make up for every second he stayed silent.
When we finally pull apart, breathless and shaking, I whisper, “It hurt. Seeing you next to her. To hear my own brother believeshe’sthe one softening you.”
Will’s brow furrows, his hands still cupping my face. “I know, sugar. I know.”
I shake my head, trying to keep the tears down, but they rise anyway. “I felt something in your bed, Will. Somethingreal.And now all I feel is stupid.”
He flinches, but I keep going.
“Stupid for hoping. Stupid for falling. Stupid for letting you see every piece of me and thinking maybe you’d want to keep it.”
My voice cracks, and I hate it. Hate how exposed I am in front of the one person who could destroy me just by walking away again.
But Will doesn’t move. Doesn’t let go.
He rests his forehead against mine, his voice breaking as he says, “You’re not stupid, Phern. You’re brave as hell.”
His thumbs brush my cheeks, catching tears I didn’t want to shed.
“I was the stupid one,” he says softly. “For not grabbing on the second I realized you were everything I was too damn scared to want out loud.”
I start to pull away, needing space, air. Anything to keep from breaking open even more. But Will grabs my wrist, pulling me back to him.
“Don’t walk away from me,” he growls.
“Then don’t give me reasons to,” I snap, voice trembling. “You can’t show up in the middle of the night like you suddenly give a damn and expect everything to be okay.”
“I do give a damn,” he fires back. “I’ve always given a damn, Phern.”
