She loves me. She loves me. She loves me.
Bella loves me.
“A little overbearing. Impulsive. Kinda frightening,” she continues.
“Do I scare you?”
“Never.” She frowns. “Not anymore, at least.”
I look away dramatically, deep in thought, as I force my fingers to peel away from her skin. “I think we should change that.”
I need to see her smile. I need to get my old Bella back—the one who isn’t so frightened of shadows.
She scoffs. “I wouldn’t say golden retrievers are scary.”
That might single-handedly be the most offensive thing anyone has ever said to me, but there’s a mischievous grin on her lips I don’t want to disappear.Thatis my Bella. The one who snaps and then licks the wound later… Sometimes. Only if I don’t piss her off again.
“Hellhound is more accurate,” I say as I nudge her toward one of the benches.
As embarrassing as it was, she readPercy Jacksonto me a few years ago as a way to practice her speech—and because the only way I can sit still long enough to read a book is if she’s reading it to me. Greek mythology became my whole ass personality after that. There was some kind of Greek reference in my drawings for so long, I am officially a master at drawing armor.
“Eh.” She shrugs and bites the inside of her lip. “You’re harmless. You’re more like a handbag dog; all bark and no bite.”
She’s all shit, and she knows it. But Jesus Christ, I’m hooked on every word that comes out of her mouth becauseshe’s finally back. I’ve waited so long, and it was all worth it.
Bella, ever the timid princess she is, lowers herself onto her seat far too gracefully. I plop down onto the bench in a heap, which is far more fitting. Especially when a can of spray paint is in my bag—it’s my newly acquired hobby.
I shove my hand in my pocket to stop myself from reaching out for her, and my fingers brush against the cotton strings of the bracelet. I run my tongue over my teeth as I pull it out and show it to her. “I, uh.” I clear my throat. “I accidentally broke it.” She blinks at the red and black tangles in my palm. I’ll admit, it’s a little worse for wear from living in my pocket. “And you’ve kept it on you?”
“Of course. It matches my complexion.”
Her brows knit together, but it’s filled with understanding. “I can make you another.”
“No. Can you fix it?”
She shakes her head, and I hate it. I’m not surprised. It’s ripped past the point of return. All the edges are fraying, and the knots have come undone. Only a miracle could salvage it.
Her delicate fingers fiddle with one of the string bracelets around her wrist—the red-and-black one that’s an exact replica of the one I broke—and she unfastens it.
Time seems to slow as she grabs my hand and fastens it around my wrist. She waswearingme.
She was wearing me.
She was wearing me.
She was wearing me.
“Don’t break it this time,” she says with a playful bite.
“Yeah, yeah,” I mutter, reaching for my bag. I’ve been busy all week, and I can’t wait for the look on her face. “I got you something.”
She stills. “Wait. What do you mean yougot me something? How did you know I was going to be here?”
I smirk. “I know everything.”
Bella slaps my arm, but it doesn’t hurt. She’s the only one who could get away with it. “You prick! You knew I was back, and you didn’t even sayhi?”
She’s so adorable when she’s angry.
