For one reckless moment, I let myself imagine what it would be like to stay. To climb in beside her, pull her close, fall asleep with her in my arms.
Instead, I brush a strand of hair off her face and force myself to step back.
"Goodnight, Gorgeous," I murmur and kiss her forehead.
Then I walk out and close the door behind me.
I lie on the couch in the dark, staring at the ceiling, and tell myself the same thing I've been telling myself for three days.
Just a little longer.
Just be patient a little longer.
And maybe she'll decide she wants this to be real.
Chapter 7
Steph
I'm not asleep when Kevin carries me to bed.
I should tell him I'm awake. That I can walk, and he doesn't need to lift me like I weigh nothing and cradle me against his chest like I'm something precious.
But I don't.
Because of the feel of his arms around me, the solid warmth of his chest, the way he moves, making sure not to wake me—it's the safest I've felt in years. Maybe ever.
He set me down on the bed with a gentleness that makes my throat tight. The blanket comes up over my shoulders, tucked in with the same care he does everything. Then his hand brushes my hair back from my face, his touch feather-light.
"Goodnight, Gorgeous," he whispers so quietly I almost miss it.
Gorgeous.
My heart stutters.
Then he presses a kiss to my forehead—soft, lingering, achingly tender—and the warmth of it spreads through me like liquid heat.
I keep my breathing even as he steps back. As he walks to the door. As it clicks shut behind him.
Only then do I open my eyes.
I lie there in the dark, staring at the ceiling, my fingers pressed to my forehead where I can still feel the ghost of his kiss.
Gorgeous.
He called me gorgeous. Like he meant it. Like it wasn't just a casual endearment but something real, something true.
I roll onto my side, pulling the blanket tighter around myself, but it doesn't help. My skin feels too warm, too tight. My heart won't slow down.
I can hear him moving around on the other side of the wall. The creak of the couch as he settles in. The rustle of the blanket.
He's ten feet away.
Ten feet, one thin wall, and an entire lifetime of fear standing between us.
But right now, lying here in the dark with his kiss still burning on my skin, that fear feels less important than the ache building low in my belly. The want I've been trying so hard to ignore.
I close my eyes and try to sleep.
