“Talk to me,” I murmur into her hair.
She laughs lightly, pulling back to meet my gaze. “I always wanted a barre at home. Never got one. Somehow, you knew exactly the perfect gift to give me. That is so on brand for you.” Her smile is like the sunrise, brimming with brilliance.
The words hit me square in the chest. This woman—this incredible, talented, generous woman—was made to believe she had to conform to earn love. The thoughtmakes me want to find her father and have a very long, very unpleasant conversation.
Instead, I kiss her. Not to seduce or distract, but to pour everything I can’t quite say yet into the press of my lips against hers.
She melts into me, all soft curves and warm skin, her fingers drifting along my jaw like she’s memorizing the shape of me. We stand there like that, quiet and close, sunlight stretching across the room behind us, painting everything golden.
“Do you know how much I appreciate you?” she whispers against my mouth.
I kiss her, slipping my fingers into that silky soft hair. “I’m starting to get a picture.”
Lucy pulls back, eyes wide and twinkling, lips parted. “Just starting? Wow. You must be zoned out more than I realize. Or you’re ignoring me. There is always that I guess.”
“You’re impossible to ignore, Lucy. I see you,” I say simply. “All of you.”
“And what do you see?”
“I see someone beautiful on the inside and out, doing her damndest to make it in a world that keeps throwing her curveballs. I see someone brave and resilient and stronger than she realizes.”
Someone I don’t want to let go.
Someone who feels like she’s stitching me back together just by being here.
“Dang, Nash. You really know how to pour on the charm, don’t you?”
“This isn’t charm,” I whisper against her hair. “It’s just the truth.”
I kiss her forehead, slow and deliberate, smiling when she leans into me.
“Now get cleaned up. I want to take you to dinner.”
She pulls back and quirks her head, a question in those sparkling eyes. “Like… a date?”
I meet her gaze head on. “A date,” I confirm, voice low. “I want one with you.”
There are a hundred reasons I shouldn’t let myself fall for this woman. She’s complicated and wounded and still figuring out who she is outside of who she used to be. I’m not great at relationships, better with broken bones than broken hearts. My schedule is insane, my life is chaos, and I have no idea how to be what she needs.
But none of that matters when she looks at me like that.
Like maybe she could fall, too.
Like maybe we could figure out how to catch each other.
Like maybe the bubble never has to pop.
“Oh, and Lucy?”
“Yes?”
“You’re ready to go without the boot.”
Her eyes light up, her smile growing exponentially brighter. “Yeah?”
“Yeah.” I shove my hands in my pocket and watch as she does an ecstatic little wiggle, then practically bounds from the room.
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
