Especially in the glow of golden light, and snow outside the window.
The doorknob rattles, followed by a brisk knock.
“Extra hangers,” Evelyn calls, her voice maddeningly cheerful. “And an extra blanket. Don’t mind me, I’ll leave them here.”
We come unstuck. He huffs a disbelieving laugh, whereas mine wobbles.
Her footsteps retreat down the hall.
“One of these days,” he says on a rough sigh.
I swallow, dizzy from yet anotheralmostthat was interrupted.
“Maybe it’s a sign,” I whisper.
“Or maybe we just need better timing.” His smile is soft, his eyes slightly squinting like Bill Pullman’s, and my heart tripsover itself just like it did when I saw While You Were Sleeping for the first time.
“Maybe.”
“What are you thinking about?”
I let out a sigh. “The ‘lean’.”
The moment right before he ruins you, like Aiden is so close to doing to me.
He tips forward, and my breath catches, because I think this mightfinallybe it. But instead, he presses a kiss to my jawline. His lips whisper across my skin, leaving a wake of fire in their place.
“You’ll have to explain to me what that means later,” he rasps, like his self-control is ready to snap.
Before I can respond, he heads out the door, and I’m left in a fantastic room and a heartbeat I can’t quite steady. There’s one thing for sure: I can’t ever explain “the lean” to Aiden Wheeler.
Because that might be the end of me.
The lights flicker once, then brighten just a little to a steadier hum as if the room agrees.
twenty
CHLOE
Dinner comesand goes in a blur of boxes. Chili simmers while we work, and Phoebe narrates every detail of her unicorn room like she’s the realtor and we’re the emotional support clients.
By the time dishes are stacked and the lights are dimmed, things feel like they’re on a more even keel. Like the house is quietly noticing what we have to contribute and is adjusting.
I stand in the golden glow of lights Aiden helped string, eyeing the bed as if it might bite.
But I think I’m worried it might swallow me whole.
The present version of Aiden comes with new scars and new walls. But then the old version peeks through, the one who gave up the best room in the whole house for me to sleep in.
There wasn’t a warning label when I signed up for this.
A quiet fear nags that this room, this house, this version of him may erode my defenses faster than I can rebuild them.
My door is open in case Phoebe needs me, but that means I also hear every creak and groan of this unfamiliar house. Itdoesn’t scare me, but it does unsettle me. I’m used to being within running distance, not halfway across an old ski lodge from the ‘20s.
Down the hall, a floorboard creaks.
My pulse spikes anyway.
