I step back, running my palm down my jawline, stuffing my hands into my pockets only to find I’m wearing station-issue shorts. She giggles at my lack of composure—the way she undoes me with a look or a touch.
And the kitchen door opens.
Hallie’s eyes go wide. Her hands land on my chest and she shoves me backward. I turn.
Dustin’s in the doorway, drowsy eyes making complete sense of what he’s seeing.
“Okay. Well …” He looks between me and Hallie. “Cool. Cool. Midnight meeting of the extremely not suspicious people.” He gives us a two-finger salute. “I'll just ... go ... because this is obviously a rookie-in-training moment.” He nods, nervously. Then he gives me finger guns and shakes his head. “You seem to have it covered, Grey.”
He steps back out of the kitchen. Hallie’s hands fly up to her reddening cheeks. “Oh my gosh! Grey!”
I start to chuckle and then I’m belly laughing.
Hallie swats at me. “This isn’t funny!”
“Yeah it is,” I keep laughing. “It’s really funny.”
She huffs out a soft laugh. Then she’s laughing with me. “Greyson! What are we going to do?”
“Nothing. And neither is Dustin.” I smooth my hand down her hair and tuck her into a hug. “He’s a wild child, loose cannon, but he’s not telling anyone about this—not even Patrick.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yeah. I am.”
And it dawns on me, I can trust Dustin. He’s got my six. Why did it take this to make me see it?
“Okay. If you say so,” she says reluctantly.
“Are you okay?” I pull back, looking down at Hallie, searching her face.
“I am. Yeah.” She sighs. “I am.”
“Regrets?”
“After that kiss? Not on your life.”
“I’ve got more.”
“More kisses?”
“Yeah. They’re in infinite supply.”
“I think I’ll finish my cocoa first.”
I wrap my arm around her, lifting her mug from the counter and popping it in the microwave to warm it again. Then I escort her to the table.
“Tell me more stories,” I ask her.
“Stories?” She smiles. “You want more of my stories?”
“I want to know everything about you—and Mia.”
She launches into a story about Mia’s birthday party when she turned four. It was a dragon-princess party and all the guests dressed as either a dragon or a princess, but Mia wanted to be a dragon princess. I listen with rapt attention, running my thumb over the back of her hand that’s resting on the table.
She asks me for a story when she finishes. “About baseball. When you were younger.”
I tell her about the first game I remember playing. I struck out, but I fell for the game anyway.
