He scans it quickly with a small tremor at the corner of his lips. “Karaoke.”
“Karaoke,” I croak. “On Thursdays.”
He pins me in place with his gaze. “You want to go?”
“I—” Do I? Can I? “Not really? No. Maybe?”
“It’s on your bucket list.”
“A list I made when I didn’t know I’d have to face all of them within twelve hours.” I’m slightly hysterical, and my breathing is so fast my chest heaves.
“Five seconds, Honeybee.”
The nickname makes my breath catch. He’s been using it all day—slipping it in like it’s the most natural thing in the world. But it cuts me to the quick every time because he doesn’t remember. Not really. Not the important things.
“You can do anything for five seconds.”
My legs tremble at his words. They’re exactly what he used to say to me when I was being punished. He’d help me through it five seconds at a time.
He may not realize it, but my Valen still exists in that battered mind of his. He’s still the same boy I fell in love with—he just has more scars now.
It’s something else we have in common.
Valen raises a playful brow in challenge. It’s how he got me to climb our tree the very first time too. Another sign that his memories of us weren’t wiped away completely.
“I don’t know if I can stand up in front of a crowd on my own,” I admit, only to have my skin blaze with heat.
“Then I’ll do it with you.” He scowls as though he can’t believe he just said that.
“What if I’m terrible?”
“Then you’ll fit right in. No one is good at karaoke. That’s what makes it so fun.”
“What if?—”
He crosses the room with determined strides and takes my face between his calloused palms. “Clover. What if you stop playing the what-if game? You’re already doing things you thought were impossible. You’re here, with me.” His thumb caresses my cheek, and I lean into it. “What’s one more?”
I’m going to kiss him. Right here. In this murder motel with the terrible lighting and fungus-growing carpet. I lift onto my toes. His blue eyes glow dangerously as a low growl escapes the back of his throat. So, so close. He leans down—I push forward. We’re less than an inch apart. So close I smell the mint of his toothpaste and the woodsy scent of his cologne.
My eyes drift closed when I feel the ghost of his lips dragging across mine.
“Y’all hungry?” Chief pounds on the door, and I gasp for breath. “Diner’s got a special on burgers.”
Valen drops his hands, and I almost pitch forward.
Our moment is shattered, but the desire—that’s definitely not one-sided—hangs cloyingly thick in the room.
“Yeah,” I call out with a shaky voice. My gaze cuts boldly back to Valen. “Starving.”
We joinedChief for decent burgers at the diner, and it suppressed my anxiety for a solid hour. Now I’m running through all the best reasons to back out of karaoke—it’s late, I can’t sing, I don’t have proper attire, my burger may have given me food poisoning.
I stare at myself in the chipped motel mirror, scrutinizing everything. My outfit. My hair. My entire existence.
“You look perfect,” Valen says from the bed.
I jolt as if his words electrocuted me. I didn’t know he was watching me. “Perfect,” I snort. “Maybe for someone who’s 99.9% sure she’s going to throw up.” I should have just stayed in my loungewear.
“Perfectly terrified is a good look on you, Honeybee.”
