He dislodges himself from my octopus grip and kissesaway the tear tracks. We roll onto our sides and face each other. He brushes my hair back, and I’ve never felt more adored in my life. The tenderness in his gaze, the softness in his expression, the way his fingers linger in my curls.
“I get it,” he murmurs. “It’s a lot.”
I nod. “You make me feel big feelings, Storm Cloud,” I say roughly.
I skate my hand over his chest, attention following my fingers. I lightly flick his nipple piercing before moving to stop over his heart. I make a rumbling sound and then let my hand explode open.“Boom.”
I fall silent for a moment, then whisper, “That’s what it’s like. A thunderstorm of emotion raging inside me.” My gaze flicks up to his. “I’ve always loved thunderstorms.”
We get pop-up storms in Florida all the time. When I was little, I’d always try to run out in them, forever driving my mom mad. But to step out under a sky that’d just opened up, the rain pouring down, wind whipping around like a physical push, the crashing of thunder so loud itshakesyou. You’re surrounded by something so much larger than yourself.
It’s scary, but exhilarating.
Like love.
“I love you, JJ.”
He bites his lips, and his nostrils quiver on a fractured breath. His throat bobs.“Boom,”he says roughly.
“Boom,” I whisper.
I shuffle closer to him and catch his lips in a bruising kiss, all teeth and teeming emotion. It’s inelegant and raw and messy. I think it couldn’t be more perfect.
Eventually Jed breaks away and snuggles into my neck. The most beautiful sigh escapes him. His muscles go completely lax against me, and damn, it’s like hitting ahome run. I’m responsible for that. The letting go. The comfort.
“What time do you have to leave?” he murmurs, breath skimming over my skin.
My heart sinks. Way too soon. I reach around him and grab my phone. The screen lights up. It’s past three. I quickly set my alarm. “I have a few more hours. I should leave around seven.”
He lets out a soft whine. “You’re going to get, like, no sleep.”
“Worth it.”
We’re both quiet, and I almost believe he’s fallen asleep when he mumbles, “Thank you for showing up for me tonight.”
“Always.” I’ll always show up for him. I want to be that for him.
“Forever thinking of others.”
His breathing evens out, the rise and fall of his chest settling into a deep, steady rhythm. I lay a kiss on his forehead. My eyes slip closed, and I just hold on. To him. To the moment.
“You’re wrong,” I whisper into the quiet. “I came here just as much for me as for you.”
I don’t know what any of this means. I don’t know how we do this—makeuswork while living separate lives in a demanding career that leaves zero downtime.
Easton and Maddox, Paulie and Shelbs, they all manage it, though. I bury my nose in his hair and breathe him in—and hold it for as long as I can. Desperate to find a way to keep a part of him with me when I leave soon.
If my friends can do it. So can we.
FORTY-FIVE
SHANE
There isno amount of caffeine that will make me feel human again. I stare into my cubby. And stare.
“Michaels!” A hand slaps across the back of my head.
I blink and turn.
