“I wasn’t?—”
“I was an ass. I’ll give you that. I was way out of line, but I’m trying to battle with all of this. You, me. Things I don’t think either of us is ready to look closely at yet.” She opens her mouth to argue, but I keep going. “I should have kept my mouth shut, and I’m sorry for that. I was an ass.”
“This is complicated,” she conceded, and it feels like a confession.
“The best things always are,” I murmur, and I believe that to my core. It’s the wrong thing, though, something I know when her face goes hard again.
“Jesse—”
Shaking my head, I shift so we’re not so close, so the temptation of kissing her isn’t as obvious, so we’re sitting next to one another, facing the TV.
“Another day. Today was a long one.” She looks at my profile, and I watch the two tween girls on the screen, pretending like I’m not fully in tune with her every move, every gesture. Finally, she sighs, then turns back to the movie, and something in me eases.
“And I’ll give you all the time you need, but only if you stop avoiding me like the plague. My sister is starting to get suspicious.” It’s a low blow, but it does what it needs to, so she nods, taking in a deep breath.
“Okay,” she murmurs, and her head drops to my shoulder.
It’s not much—nothing, really, in the grand scheme of what I’m realizing I want with her—but it’s enough.
I convince her to stay for another hour before she yawns, and despite myself, I sigh and tell her she should get home. In aperfect world, I’d sayfuck itand convince her to sleep in my bed or with me on the couch, but that’s not for today.
Today is for baby steps.
So instead, I walk her to the door. When we’re at the mudroom, she bends, pulling on and then tying up familiar shoes, the ones I left on her front step last Sunday.
“They fit,” I say once she stands, and even in the dim lighting, I catch a blush moving over her cheeks.
“I’ve worn them every day. Haven’t fallen once, to my disappointment.” Warmth overtook me at the idea that even when we weren’t talking, even when she was so mad and confused, she put those shoes on, and that I was able to keep her safe. “I kind of wanted you to be wrong so I can wear my comfy ones.”
I step closer, grabbing her chin between my thumb and pointer finger.
“When you’re with me, you can wear the comfy ones. I’ll always catch you,” I whisper, and I hope she knows I mean more than if she slips on life when her face goes soft. She shifts closer, moving on instinct, I think, a hand going to my cheek, her thumb brushing over my mustache.
“Jesse,” she murmurs, and I smile.
“I’m not going to kiss you tonight, Hallie.” Confidence moves through me, warm and thick, when a flash of disappointment crosses her face, but my decision is made ironclad when it’s quickly covered by relief. “You’re not ready for that, so I’ll wait.”
“You’ll wait?”
I shrug.
“The thing about forever is that it’ll be there tomorrow,” I whisper. When her face goes soft, I know I said the right thing, but I still second-guess my decision not to kiss her; the desire to do so is strong.
But I hold steady, and instead, I pull her into me, holding her there tight in my arms until her body relaxes, until her shoulders soften, and she melts into me. Her arms wrap around my back, and her breathing slows. We might stand there for one minute, we might stand there for ten, but I don’t care. I’d stand here all night if I knew she didn’t need the sleep.
Regrettably, I step back, then help her slide on her jacket. Reaching over to the bin of winter gear, I grab one of my worn Three Kings beanies and slide it over her head. “You didn’t wear a hat over.”
“I was kind of in a rush to get her.”
That now familiar warmth settles in my chest, and I lean down and press my lips to her forehead.
“Well, you can have mine.”
Becausesheis mine.
And as I watch her walk off and then wait for the confirmation text that she made it home safe, I conclude that she came into Wren’s life all those years ago so she could be mine one day.
No, not mine—ours. Emma’s and mine and Wren’s and Mom’s and Dad’s and, fuck, even Madden’s.
