Her brows snap together. “Stop air quoting my words back to me!”
“That’s all you have to say?”
Pen has the grace to flush. “I’m thinking.”
“Oh, now she thinks.”
Glaring, she looks away. “Your sarcasm sucks.”
“Yeah? Well . . .” I got nothing. I’m drained.
“August?”
“What?” It comes out waspish. Last thing I want to do is answer any more of her accusations.
She reaches me in three quick paces, plastering herself against me and wrapping her arms around my waist. “I’m sorry.” She hugs me tight. “I’m so sorry, August.”
It takes me a second because she’s quick, and I didn’t expect this. My heart turns over in my chest, and all the lingering fight falls away. I rest my cheek on the top of her head and hold on.
“It’s okay,” I tell her.
“No, it’s really not. I shouldn’t have said those things. I’m really messed up—” She cuts herself off and kisses the center of my chest. “You make me happy too.”
Well, good. That’s good. Because I need her happiness.
She kisses me again, softly, before pressing her cheek to my sternum. Her voice grows small and muffled. “Part of me doesn’t like it.”
She leans back, and her brown eyes are glossy with remorse. “If you have the power to make me this happy, then you also have the power to make me miserable.”
It shouldn’t make me feel better, but it does. Maybe we’re both messed up. Sighing, I lean my forehead against hers.
“It goes both ways, Penny love. You can level me without half trying.”
A fine shudder works over her frame. “I really am sorry.”
“No, don’t. Sweets...” I kiss her cheek, the damp heat of her temple. “It’s over. Okay?”
Her answer is a small shake of the head. For a long moment, we’re still. Pen smooths my chest with soft pets like she’s trying to soothe me. I let her do it, because it feels good. My eyes close, and I stroke her hair, letting the silk of it run over my fingers.
“We had a fight.” She says this in wonder.
“Yeah.”
“I don’t like fighting with you.”
“Can’t say I’m a fan of it either.” I lean back to meet her eyes.“But it’ll happen again.” When she frowns, I can’t help a smile. “People sometimes fight. It’s human nature.”
“Yes, but this time is worse because it’s my fault.”
Her pout is adorable. I nip her earlobe, loving the way she shivers.
“I hear the making-up part can be good. Hot, even, if done right.”
She quirks a brow. “Is that so?”
“I’m almost certain it’ll lean toward hot if you put real effort into it.”
“Hmm...” Her gaze narrows but humor lights her eyes. “Well, it is my turn to make it up to you.”
