One I’ll miss every day for the rest of my life.
“I’m f-fine,” I lie without conviction.
Strong arms surround me, gathering me up gently and drawing me in against his warm, solid chest. I rest my cheek over his heart and listen to the steady thud of life inside him.
“It’s okay,” he soothes as I clutch Jenny’s photograph with one hand and slide my other hand beneath his jacket to cling on to a handful of his shirt at his back like it has the power to ground me.
A tear slips free, sinking into the cotton. I suck in a shaky breath, willing my throat to stop burning, scared I might burst into full-blown sobs at any moment.
Sterling strokes my hair from my face and dips his head, pressing his nose into the strands. He inhales slowly, making his chest expand against my cheek.
“You’re not alone, I’m here,” he says, pressing a kiss to the top of my head.
“I’m sorry. I just need a minute.”
I fist his shirt harder and tilt my chin up, letting his eyes capture mine between my damp lashes.
He stares with a tenderness that makes my heart stall.
“Take all the time you need.”
I nod, unable to respond with words.
He traces my jaw with his thumb, following its path with his eyes until he reaches my chin. His brows scrunch together, his attention falling to my mouth. He exhales, and his minty breath flows over my lips.
I part my own to breathe him in.
“I’ll be here anytime you need me, Hallie.”
He dusts his thumb over my cheek one final time.
Then it’s gone.
I miss his touch immediately. But his eyes stay on mine, the same promise held in them; he’ll be here anytime I need him.
Anytime I need him.
I gaze back up at him and he smiles at me softly, his blue eyes bringing with them a calm reassurance that I’ve never felt before.
Sterling Beaufort sees my broken parts.
And for the first time, I’m not overcome by the need to hide them.
9
STERLING
I readthe texts from Hallie again.
I’m sorry I couldn’t make dinner. I’ve been meeting with potential matches. H.
Thank you for the flowers. They’ve actually got me thinking. I have a lady who runs her own floral company. I’d like you to meet her. H.
How is Saturday night for a date? H.
I almost type back to the last one telling her I’ll look forward to it more than a kid looks forward to a vacation at Disney World.
Then I remember she doesn’t mean a date with her.
