I arch an eyebrow. “Really?”
“I was a sucker for my father’s attention. Never got it, no matter what I did.”
I frown, unable to understand how anyone could resist Everly. “I’m much older than you.”
“And wiser?”
“Definitely not. I married you for selfish reasons.”
“I did the same thing,” she counters as if nothing I could say would make her let go.
“I’m grumpy, not at all gentle.”
“A gentleman, though.”
“A dangerous one.”
She tips her head up and our eyes float together and click.
Everly’s smile is irresistible. “What if I said I’m okay with that?”
Like closing an envelope, I seal us back inside the hug and we tuck away that conversation for now. Maybe forever if I let myself stay in the void.
For the first time in months, someone took care of me. Everly, my wife, honored her vows without even realizing it. She did for me what I didn’t even realize I needed.
After we lost Bran, my mother was there, but she was lost in grief of her own, having seen the death of her husband and then son. Of course, we talked about him, but I quickly and quietly went back to work, to cope.
I’m quiet now. Too quiet for this moment to be normal, but it’s like Everly senses that I’m going through something and gives me space and time.
But not too much space, because we’re still hugging. This might be the longest hug of my life. The longest hug in history. The best one, too.
But she doesn’t let go either. Maybe she needed it as much as me.
When we part, I keep her less than an arm’s length away.
Everly lifts her chin to meet my eyes. The words are on the tip of my tongue, desperate to tell her that her hands on me, cutting away the evidence of how little I’ve cared about anything these last months, loosened something inside. She unlocked the door to the cage in my chest. She opened the windows and let the light in. Some part of her, that kindness she showed me, the simple yet intimate gesture of washing my hair and cutting it, threatened the void—the one I’ve become all too comfortable occupying. I’m afraid that if I let myself feel, I won’t be able to handle it. I want to tell her this.
But I stutter. The words stall. And for the first time in my life, I fumble the ball.
15
EVERLY
Just when I sense Grey and I are about to have a breakthrough, my phone beeps. I’m not exactly Miss Popularity and don’t have countless text threads consisting of multiple family members and friends who treat the form of communication like a social media app, sharing photos of their half-eaten pancakes—okay, Heidi does that sometimes. But there are only a handful of people who text me.
She’s one. The wedding planner, seeking a refund, is another. I receive the occasional message from my aunt in Quebec City.
More than likely, it’s athrext(that’s a threat text) from the Spider.
I’m afraid that if Grey sees, he’ll track Todd down, Hulk out, and squish him like a spider.
But that’s the least of my problems at the moment, because his expression is pure stone. It’s like the phone’s sound caused a Pavlovian response, and we silently but mutually agree to forget the hug and return to our corners in the boxing ring.
He says, “Everly, let me make one thing clear. You didn’t do anything wrong at the salon earlier. That was all me and—”He scrubs his hands down what remains of his beard. “And I’m sorry. It won’t happen again.”
I lift my gaze to meet his and all I see are those gray eyes battling with something deep inside.
“I’m truly sorry. I usually take my anger out on the field or in the gym,” he adds.
