I love their relationship. The whole dynamic. I loved watching them fall in love and become this little family.
“I really think Demi has helped you understand that all your emotions are allowed to co-exist. You don’t always have to put on this happy face—no one is happyallthe time and excited all the time. Even golden retrievers get sad sometimes.”
“Are you comparing me to a dog? A dog like Hendrix?” I gape, but internally I’m okay with the comparison to Nate’s dog. He’s a good boy.
“Yes. You aim to please, you want everyone to be happy and never say no to a game of catch.”
“Kincaid,” Chase rumbles as he shakes his head.
“No, she’s right.” I nod, and Summer raises her hands in front of her chest. “About the Demi part.” I glance her way with a smirk. “Being with Demi made me want to be vulnerable. It’s why it was so fucking easy to tell her that I love her. It just cameout of my mouth so naturally, like I’ve been saying it for years, like I’msupposedto be saying it forever.”
Summer stands and meets me in the middle of the living room as I’m pacing. She brings her hands to my arms and gently holds them in place at the sides of my body, stopping me from moving.
“Rest, Liam. You don’t have to keep moving at a million miles a minute. You don’t have to keep running, unattached and uninterested.” A lump forms in my throat. One I wasn’t fucking expecting as Summer puts her arms around my middle and hugs me. “You aren’t too much for her,” she whispers the words against my chest as I hug her back.
“Can I cut in?” Chase’s hand is on Summer’s shoulder, and I move to back away, but it’s Summer who squeezes my hand and walks down the hall into their bedroom.
“Sorry, I thought you meant?—”
“Summer is unpredictable.” Chase palms my shoulder, and I follow his lead into the kitchen, where we both take seats on the barstools. “She’s outspoken and unapologetically herself. She dances in the grocery store when a song she likes starts playing over the speakers.”
That pulls a smile from me. I know it’s true, I’ve been in a 7-Eleven with her when Taylor Swift came on.
“I’m someone who wants routine and peace.”
I feel my head nod, but don’t really know where the hell he’s going here.
“I need Summer’s untamed spirit. I need her wild heart and her open mind. Demi and I are a lot alike in that regard.” I dart my eyes to him. “She needsyou.”
Heart-to-hearts aren’t something Chase and I often engage in. Sure, we share a thing or two here and there, but this is already deeper than most.
“I’ve never seen you as happy as you’ve been the last few months. Even though I haven’t even seen you two together, I know it’s fucking electric, man. I know it because I see you every day and I see your spirit, your goddamn contagious merriment, and the maturity you’ve shown. If I hadn’t seen it with my own eyes, I honestly don’t know that I would’ve believed it.”
“That…means a lot. Thank you.” I dip my head as I nod at him.
His mouth forms a firm line as he nods back. “Demi’s happy with you too. I’ve noticed on the sidelines she’s different. That’s probably why she freaked out over what you said. Chances are, she didn’t expect to feel it back.”
“I’m not sure she does. Some days, I think she might, but then I wonder if it was just me thinking this was more than what it was. For her, it was casual. For me, though…it was the future.”
“Have you talked to her since?” he asks.
I shake my head, stretching a hand behind my neck. “No, I was afraid to push her away. I thought maybe she needs space.”
He shrugs. “She might. But I probably wouldn’t assume she does. Maybe ask her?”
“Should I ask Summer’s advice on this part?” I give him a half smile as I’m only half joking. Summer might need to come back to the kitchen for this part.
“Talk to her,” he says, standing from the stool. His boots scuff their way toward me with his hand out. “If she wants space, she’ll tell you.”
“Thanks,” I say, shaking his hand and heading for the front door.
I sent a text this morning to Demi, but it went unanswered. So instead of sending another, I thought it was more appropriate to talk face-to-face. Whether or not she’ll slam the door on me is a thought that’s only crossed my mind as I’m standing on the other side of it knocking.
I hear her on the other side, likely—hopefully—checking the peephole, and a moment later I hear the lock click and the door swings open.
Her eyes are heavy. Dark and alluring, and I feel like I can’t read them. The one fucking time that would come in handy and I can’t get a read on her simply by looking at her.
“Hi,” I say roughly.
