Jace pulls me to a stop and his knees bend slightly. My eyebrows tug together as he slides his arm beneath the back of my knees, lifting me into the air in one fluid movement. “Oh,” I breathe, adrenaline running through my veins as he sweeps me into his arms. “I can walk, Jace.”
“Barely,” he laughs, the sound vibrating through my body as I wrap my arms around the back of his neck. He doesn’t say another word and I let my head fall against the top of his shoulder as he carries me out of the bar and to his truck.
“I doubt your girlfriend would be happy about this,” I slur, not even thinking about the words before I speak them.
Jace is silent for a beat. “I don’t have a girlfriend, Willow.”
The rocking motion of his body lulls me. The darkness pulls me into its depths and the only thing I notice is the absence of his warmth as he sets me in the backseat of his truck.
Leaning my head against the window, I glance up at the front of the cab in a drunken haze and meet his gaze through the rearview mirror. His throat bobs as he stares at me for a moment. My brothers ramble about one of the maple trees as Jace’s gaze doesn’t waver.
The darkness tugs on the corners of my vision and I let my heavy eyelids fall shut. The gear shifter clunks as he puts his truck in reverse, easing from the parking spot. His scent is about as strong as it was when I was leaning up against him. I can’t tell if it’s just because I’m in his truck or if it’s clinging to my shirt and my hair. I pull my collar up to my nose, breathing in once more before I drift back to sleep with his green eyes following me into the dark.
CHAPTER TWELVE
JACE
Wet leaves stick to the soles of my shoes as I walk down the sidewalk with a drink carrier in one hand and a bag of pastries in the other. It started raining earlier this morning and has faded into just a mist now, but the cool, damp air slides in through the opening of my jacket. As I get closer to the maple shop, I can see the lights shining through the glass store front.
Tucking the bag beneath my arm, I reach for the door handle and give it a gentle tug. There’s no resistance as I pull against the weight of it, slipping through the crack and out of the cold and into the semi-warm room.
I’ve been leaving Dr. Grey at home with her sister since she’s not the best with staying away from painting supplies.
Pausing just inside, I shrug off my coat and kick off my shoes, not wanting to dirty the floors that Willow cleaned a few days ago. Drop cloths cover parts of the wood floors and the material is a nice barrier between the cold surface and my sock clad feet.
I survey the space, looking for Willow as my eyebrows cinch closer. The lights are on, and the door is unlocked, yet I don’t see her anywhere.
She’s not on this side of the checkout counter, but as I reach it, I see a mess of blonde hair sticking up from the other side.My footsteps are light and I walk around it to find Willow sitting crosslegged on the floor. She’s wearing a pair of old, baggy sweatpants with a tear in the left knee and an oversized T-shirt that has seen better days.
She lifts her gaze from the paper on the floor in front of her, bloodshot eyes squinting against the harsh light from above as she meets my gaze. I bite back a grin as I take in her appearance, knowing damn well she’s feeling the effects of the alcohol she drank last night.
After I carried her to my truck, she passed out by the time we made it out of the parking lot. She didn’t wake when I lifted her out of the backseat and carried her into her bedroom and tucked her into her bed. She was too peaceful to disturb, so I had simply brushed her golden hair away from her face before I left her for the night.
And now, here we are, almost in the middle of the morning with her eyes tired and her face pale.
“Hey,” I say as I lower myself to sit down on the floor in front of her. I set down the bag and the drink carrier before lifting one of the hot coffees to hand to her. “Here, drink this.”
It’s just a simple hot vanilla latte, but there’s two extra pumps of vanilla in it. Just the way she used to like her drinks: extra sweet.
She takes it from me without any objection. “Ooh, how did you know I needed caffeine?” she asks, wincing as she takes a sip of the burning liquid. “Be careful, Miller. You’re speaking my love language now.” She takes another sip. “This is perfection.”
“It was a lucky guess after how much you drank last night.” I pause and push the brown paper bag across the floor to her. “There’s a danish in there for you too.”
She sets her drink down, immediately opening the bag to peer inside. “Is this cheese and raspberry?” She pulls it out,a content smile tugging on her lips as her eyes flick to mine. “They’re my favorite.”
I know.
Willow’s eyes linger on mine for a second as she lifts the pastry to her lips. They slowly part and she sinks her teeth into the dough, her eyelids fluttering shut as she tears a bite. Her body sags, a soft moan humming in her throat as she chews it. “Oh my goodness, this is amazing.”
My eyes are fixated on her mouth as she chews. Her tongue darts out, catching a small crumb on her bottom lip as her eyelids flitter open. My heart pounds inside my chest and blood rushes past my ears.
“Do you want some of it?” she asks, holding the pastry up for me.
Her question snaps me out of my fixation and my breath catches in my throat. “Huh?”
“You’re watching me eat like you’re going to come steal it from me.”
A quiet laugh rumbles in my chest as I lean forward, pulling the bag back to me. “I got my own,” I say, pushing my hand into the bag to grab my own pastry. “So you’re safe. For today, at least.”
