Stone’s grip on my upper arm drags me back to the here and now.
I paste a plastic smile on my face. “Oh, um. Yeah, I’m good.”
He smirks, and I realize he probably thinks my silence and fearful expression is because someone interrupted.
Good. Let him go on thinking that. He doesn’t need to know the truth.
“That was—” He blows out air and runs a hand through his disheveled blond hair, his beautiful blue eyes alight with passion.
“Something,” I finish for him. Because he isn’t wrong. I follow him out the door, thankful he sent off whoever it was. I don’t think I can face any of his family members or friends after that. “But why did you do that? Your family is around.”Not that that has stopped us before, but…
His expression dims as he clenches his jaw. “You’re right, and please forgive me. But as for the reasoning, which by no means justify my actions,” his eyes darken, “your post-wrestling messy appearance made you one of the most tempting creatures I’ve ever seen.”
Here I was, thinking he was disgusted and thinking of ending things with me…
Silly, silly girl.
“Huh,” is all that comes out. I fiddle with my hair, hoping that it will cover my neck while still maintaining some semblance of style, but I know it’s no use. The frizzy mess is unfixable.
Stone removes my hands from my hair and holds them. “I truly am sorry, Lucy. I know I can get a one-track mind when it comes to you sometimes.”
“I know,” I whisper, then add, “me too. I could have stopped you. To be honest, I wanted—”
“You should never have to be in charge of stopping me. That’s not your job.”
Something inside me awakens, pushing against the numbness.
No, notthat.I’ve put the Beast to bed right now through my process of numbing out.
Stone’s the first man to ever tell me I’m not in charge of stopping things. I vividly remember one of my college boyfriends telling me it was my fault he kept having sex with me. He said I should do a better job at stopping him before things went too far. I tried to explain to him that my drive wasn’t like other girls, but he said it didn’t matter.
He said it was my job to metaphorically pump the brakes, not his.
“Thank you for saying that.” I squeeze his hands before letting go. We walk in silence a short distance into the kitchen. He motions for me to sit, which I do, using the opportunity to try and relax my body. After a moment, he returns with drinks.
He hands me a glass of water before telling me to take my time calming down. Then he’s off to rejoin the group. I don’t have time to even begin to think over why I’m suddenly feeling so guilty before Stella walks in and joins me at the kitchen table.
“Do I need to fight my brother for you?”
Her question catches me off guard. “Why?”
“You look sad. Like really sad.”
I contemplate how I should answer for a moment, but she interrupts and moves to sit beside me instead of in front of me. “Let me be blunt for a moment. I know he’s my brother, but I also know he has a not-so-pretty streak in him when it comes to commitment. Trust me, we were all shocked when we found out about you. And to be honest, I’m surprised he’s still with you, so that’s saying something.”
“Oh, that?” I laugh nervously. “Yeah, I know about his past. But he’s been nothing but committed to me. I’m not sad because of him. It’s… personal.”
She tucks a strand of loose brown wavy hair behind her ear. When I meet her eyes, the steel-gray color acts as a knife slicing through to my inner core. I feel cut open and laid upon her husband’s biology classroom dissecting table. (Yes, he showed us today while we were galivanting around town).
I quickly avert my gaze.
“I understand,” she finally says. “But please know I’m here if you need me. I’ve thoroughly enjoyed having a sister—even one who lives six hours away—over these past couple of months. For the record, I’m cheering you on. I’m praying the two of you are end-game.”
Stella leans forward and wraps me in a surprise hug, and after a moment of pause, I hug her back. Normally, I would cry over a moment like this, but the string labeled “numb” is still pulled taut, and I have no idea when I’ll release it this time.
After she leaves, I remain in the kitchen long enough to finish my water. Once I rejoin the group, who have moved outside to a campfire, I fake smiles, answer questions when asked, and clutch Stone’s hand for dear life for the remainder of the night.
He doesn’t kiss me goodnight once we are back to his mom’s house. He allows me to hole myself up in Stella’s old room, not bothering me with intrusive questions I don’t have answers to.
