He doesn’t flinch. Just reaches out, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear, his fingers grazing my cheek like he’s trying to memorize it. “Actually,” he murmurs, “I might have another option.”
My heart stutters. Hope shoots through me before I can swallow it back down. “What do you mean?”
“I’m not assuming anything, you don’t owe me that.” His voice is even and sure. “But my lease is paid through to summer. The Valkyries offered me a relocation bonus, which includes an apartment if I need it. You can stay here as long as you need, no pressure. I just don’t want you to feel like everything’s ending. If you ever want to try finding something in California… I’d help you. But that’s your choice, Liv. Always.”
Do I want that? I moved here to be closer to Daphne, to start over, to build something steady for once. The thought of packing up again feels impossible. But then… maybe impossible isn’t the same as bad. Maybe it’s just new.
I meet his gaze, my pulse still racing. “I have a year left of school,” I say, though it comes out weak, almost like a question. “But I could spend the summer with you. Maybe even find an internship there.”
Tenderness glazes his eyes as he looks at me. “I would love that.”
Wrapping his arms around me, that thread tugs against my wrist, my ribs, my heart… the one tethering us together. I press my lips to his gently and breathe in the comfort he gives so easily. For the first time today, I take a breath that travels all the way from the top of my head to the tips of my toes.
“I’m sorry, too,” I admit. “I didn’t mean to make you feel bad when you finally got something good for you. I was just scared.”
“I know.” His lips find my forehead, and I deflate.
I pull back just enough to meet his gaze, a shaky smile tugging at my mouth. Maybe I can do this again, we can do this. This room isn’t mine, this place doesn’t feel like home, he does.
I pat his chest. “I hope you’ve limbered up, because I’ve already moved these boxes once today. This is all on you, now.”
He huffs a laugh, brushing his nose against mine. “You’re lucky I love you, Olivia.”
A rumble of appreciation ripples through my skin at that, and I let myself believe him.
Chapter fifty-three
Liv
Afteraboutanhourof repacking the things I’d unpacked, there’s a knock at my door.
“I might’ve called for reinforcements,” Jay says, walking over to reveal Hudson and Daphne with drinks and a bag of something that I’m hoping is food.
Hudson holds up the bag that smells like heaven. “We brought snacks. And by snacks, I mean fries. And by fries, I mean six portions because I panicked.”
“He’s really good at over-buying things. Remember when he got two types of milk before we were not-dating?” Daphne hands me peach iced tea as he mumbles something about never not dating, but I nod. I do remember being on the phone when it happened, and I still think he’s the biggest puppy dog of a guy I’ve ever met. “Drink then eat. I know you’ve hardly done either in twenty-four hours.” My best friend pins me with a no-nonsense look, then she begins being the mother hen she is and starts sorting boxes around me.
Smelling the salt on these fries has my mouth salivating like never before. “Yes, gimme, I’m starving.” Hudson hands over the bag, and I practically melt on the spot when the first taste of hot potato hits my tongue. “Oh my god,” I moan loudly around another bite.
Hudson guffaws beside me. “Jesus. Warn a guy before you make noises like that. I’m an innocent, fragile man.”
Jay elbows him. “You’ve never been innocent or fragile a day in your life.”
“Hudson, are you being helpful?” Daphne asks with a hand on her hip.
I snort into the fries. “You like my noises, right, Jay?” I turn to him, holding a fry to his lips, and let a playful smirk lift my mouth.
“Olivia,” he warns, but it’s a light warning because the smile on his face and the interest in his eyes tell me so. “Do you really want our friends to find out what I intimately like about you?”
I shrug, playing it off.
Hudson raises his hand out of the corner of my eye. “I, for one, would not like to know.”
Daphne flicks a balled-up piece of packing paper at his chest. “Then stop listening and pick something up.”
He sighs dramatically but obeys, scooping up my stack of sketchbooks like they weigh nothing. “I’d like everyone to acknowledge that I am being heroic.”
Jay laughs under his breath, shifting the box in his arms. “You picked up a couple of sketchbooks, Hudson.”
