I blow a breath. “I’m going to need you to stop saying things like that to me, Isla, orI’mgoing to needyouagain.”
She shoves my shoulder, laughing. “So, clothes then?”
“Clothes,” I agree, rising to my feet.
Isla puts her undergarments on, then slips her dress over her head. She flips her hair and begins to finger-comb. “You look good with a smile.”
I touch my lips and find that I am, indeed, wearing a full-mouth smile. And even with this realization, I can’t stop it. I can’t stop this giddy feeling in my chest. I can’t stop wanting to prolong every moment I share with her. And that’s when the truth hits me like a bolt of fucking lightning.
I’m falling in love with Isla Covington.
“Are you telling me I should smile more, Red?”
Isla smacks a hand to her mouth as laughter escapes her lips. The sight cleaves my chest in two. I’ve never seen her so relaxed before. When she’s on the ice, she’s so focused, intense. I like this look on her, strawberry cheeks, easy, radiant smile, hair tousled by my hands.
“Pot meet kettle, Covington.” I tug on the bottom of a strand of her hair. “But I’m not going to tell you to smile more because I’m selfish and I can’t stand the idea of anyone else getting to see you like this.”
She swallows hard. “You are the furthest thing from selfish, Wes.”
A war wages in my mind, between putting all my cards on the table or sprinting in the opposite direction.
What would’ve happened if she hadn’t lost my number? Would we have kept in touch? Could Isla and I have ended up in a relationship before we both learned the hard way that the people we love can inflict unimaginable pain on us?
I could find out if there’s any shot at making a relationship with her work—whether her head is anywhere in the same vicinity as mine—but I’m not sure I can survive laying myself bare to another person and have them toss me away like I’m nothing.
After enduring mistreatment, I don’t think Isla would be careless with another person’s heart, but not all hearts are broken with malice. She might not want to hurt me, but she’s gaining the power to devastate me.
I don’t need to decide this now.
Instead, I hold my hand out to her, marveling that she takes it, that she wants us to remain linked.
In my truck, Isla takes the middle seat, sliding close enough to rest her head on my shoulder. She catches me off guard again, sending my thoughts spiraling in different directions. I can’t ignore the undeniable kernel of hope that if I could convince her to spend time with me, she would see the future for the two of us that’s starting to crystallize in my mind.
“So, where are we going?” I ask.
“Home,” she replies. Isla’s tough as nails, but anyone would need time to recover after dealing with a family like that.
My heart sinks at the idea of ending this night. She thinks I agreed to come with her because my little brother asked me. I spend the next ten minutes talking myself into taking a risk. It isn’t until we’re a block away from her condo that I finally speak again.
“Isla?”
“Hmm?” The sound is coated in sleep.
I wait until I’m in the parking deck before running a finger against her cheek. “Isla, you’re home.”
Her eyes flutter open. She shifts to stare out the window and sits up.
“I want to spend more time with you,” I blurt out before I can talk myself out of it. “Away from the rink. Away from…everyone else. Just me and you.”
“Even after that trainwreck of a dinner?”
I nod.
“Well, of course you do.” She recovers some of her usual spunk, bumping her shoulder into mine in jest and repeating my words from earlier. “I’mincredible.”
I want her to give me shit for the rest of my life. To keep me on the edge of my seat, wondering what she’ll say next. To live in this sense of awe thatI’mthe one she chooses.
“So, Friday?” I ask.
