My heart pulsates, his words sinking in.
I want so badly to press him for more. More answers, more anything. But his expression is already hardening again, and I don’t want his guard to go back up. Not when I’ve just gotten it down. So I force myself to lean back against the seat, force my expression, my voice, to relax. And this time when I take my turn, I decide to let my guard down in the same way he’s done for me.
“My turn,” I whisper, locking my eyes with his. “Lately, I get these dreams. These boys, brothers—it’s like I can feel everything they’re feeling. And it’s horrible. The way they’re treated, it’s disgusting.” My throat constricts, and I swallow down the lump building there. “But they’re so strong. So much stronger than me. And despite everything, their hearts are so full. Full of love for each other, and hope.” Wetness pools at the corners of my eyes. I blink it away. “I know they’re not real. I know it’s just a dream. But in many ways, I look up to them. They’re my role models.”
After a quiet second, I shake my head, pushing the thought away and lightening my voice. “And . . .go,” I nudge, trying to smile.
I watch as his hand slowly comes up, his chest rising and falling, then his thumb is just barely brushing over my lips. I can’t tell if he’s even touching me, or if the soft stroke I feel is purely from the heat of his skin moving against mine. Somehow we’ve leaned forward again, not a clue who’s inching toward whom, but our lips are so close, our breaths tangle together. My exhales becoming his inhales. He traces the curve of my forced half-smile, like he’s telling me he sees the truth. That I don’t have to pretend. It’s a small gesture, but it pierces straight through my chest.
Without warning, his heat starts to dissipate, and his form begins to blur.No, not now.Stay, I want to beg, even though I know he can’t always control it. He keeps his thumb at my lips, the solid outline of his body fading all too quickly before my eyes, as he whispers, “Sometimes . . . I don’t want to leave.”
And then, before I can blink, he’s gone.
Chapter 24
I’m still smilingwhen I hear the door to the print shop close behind me, as I step out onto the quiet sidewalk. This is the perfect end to a day of running boring errands, including earlier this morning when I finally caved and picked up a new cell phone. Mundane, annoying tasks, but I’m really making an effort at adulting today. And this, my final trip to the little print shop, is my reward.
Feeling the plastic bag tap against my hip with each step I take is comforting, just knowing what it holds, and my heart feels fuller for it. I’m about to cross the street when a colorful gleam from a window to my left catches my eye. A jewelry shop? I scoot closer, squinting as I peer inside and scan the items on the store’s display shelf. Huh. I’m not usually the jewelry kind of girl, but there’s a particular little knick-knack perched atop the sale rack that I just can’t resist. I smirk as I reach for the store’s door handle, a fresh wave of flutters rushing through my stomach as I do.
Not even ten minutes later and I’ve arrived at the inn, pulling the door open to let another guest exit first.
“Lou!” Claire hollers from her desk as I step inside. She gives Dylan—ugh—a quick parting kiss and signals me over. As he passes by, he nods and his lips curve. Although I’d rather ignore him or flip him off, Claire’s eyes are trained on our interaction, so I manage a tight-lipped smile for her sake.
“Hey, Claire.” I reach her at the same time the front door closes behind Dylan, then set my bags on the desk.
Claire quirks an eyebrow and grins, an expression that has me wrinkling my nose in confusion. “What?”
“Oh, I don’t know.” Her grin widens. “Just that I happened to see a certain someone take you to breakfast this morning.”
Oh,that. “Bobby didn’t ‘take me to breakfast.’ We went out for a bite, because that’s what friends do. There’s a difference.”
She narrows her eyes with the resemblance of a foxhound sniffing for clues, but doesn’t press it. Instead, her expression softens as she pulls open her desk drawer and hands me a postcard. “Another one. Someone back in LA really misses you.”
Oh no. I’m a terrible best friend. I’ve been so caught up with everything going on, I haven’t even replied to her last one. Guilt consumes me as I grab the card and begin reading.
It’s me again, Bitch!
I’m coming to visit you! Mom and Daniel are keeping the girls next weekend so we can have a sleepover like the good ol’ days. I’m thinking we’re long overdue for a girls’ night! Hope you’re free Saturday and Sunday. Otherwise, clear your schedule, slut, because there’s no way in hell you’re backing out of this.
P.S. I’m pumping enough milk to last baby Audrey a few days, so you better prepare yourself to get shit-faced with me.
P.P.S. You’re still beautiful.
xx
It’s only Sunday, and already next weekend can’t get here soon enough. It hits me then that I’m grinning . . . on a Sunday.Well this is new. “Hey, you have plans Saturday night?” I ask Claire.
She pauses, eying the ceiling in thought, then says, “Nope, don’t think so.”
“Want to come over? My friend Jamie’s going to be visiting, and we’re gonna do another girls’ night kinda thing.”
Claire doesn’t even hesitate. “Yes! I’m in!” She pauses, eyes dropping to the small plastic bags between us. “Did you go on a mini shopping spree?”
I shrug, remaining casual so she doesn’t make too big a deal out of it. “Not really. Just picked up a few things for my room. Anyway, what’s the story with you and Dylan?” It’s a good way to change the subject, but it’s also a question that’s been eating at me.
“Story?” The notepad sitting in front of her must have suddenly become very interesting, because she picks it up, squints down, and flips through its pages.
“Yeah, like how’d you guys meet?”
