“You didn’t,” Gwen says in shock as she walks toward the shelf and runs her fingers along the spines. “Thank you,” she adds softly as tears begin to roll down her cheeks.
“I didn’t want to make you cry,” I say, pulling her into a tight embrace.
“They’re happy tears,” she tells me. “It’s happiness.”
Relief washes over me.
“So… you like the shelf?”
“I love the shelf,” she sighs into my chest. “I can’t believe you remembered all the titles.”
“Not all of them,” I laugh. “You have way too many books for that.”
“You had this set up before the game today,” Gwen says, and I nod. “You were really confident that your big ice moment would work, weren’t you?” she asks with a laugh.
“I wasn’t certain,” I admit, “but I was hoping it would. These past few days without you have been too painful. I don’t want to go through that again.”
“Me neither,” Gwen sighs, burying her face into my chest again.
Chapter 23
Gwen
We’ve been standing, holding each other in the bedroom for what feels like an hour when Zane slowly lets go.
“Did you want to try to get some sleep?” I ask as he looks at me. Zane shakes his head, a small smile forming on his face.
“Do you want to stay the night?” he asks, his hands gliding slowly up and down my back.
I don’t answer with words. Instead, I lean in and kiss him. I press into his lips, wrapping my arms around him, and the answer is clear enough. Zane understands. He gently leads us toward the bed.
We sit down at the end of the bed, still kissing. Zane brushes my hair to the side and kisses my neck.
“I’ve been wanting to do this all day,” he admits softly.
“Sit on the bed?” I ask.
“Yes, exactly that,” Zane laughs mockingly.
I can’t help but laugh with him when Zane leans in and kisses me again. It starts slowly, his mouth moves against mine with quiet patience. One hand slides along my back, the other is anchored at my hip.
Zane waits for me to lean closer, and when I do, something shifts.
The kiss deepens. My fingers slide into his hair before I even realize I’m doing it.
“Does this feel good for you?” Zane asks, and I immediately nod.
“Yes,” I whisper. It feels more than good. It feels great, it feels like I want more, and I need him to know that.
Zane’s hand moves to my jaw, his thumb brushes my cheek like he’s memorizing the shape of my face.
“You’re beautiful,” he says.
I can’t help but laugh, like it’s a reflex. Some kind of self-defense, a mechanism I built up over the years.
“I mean it,” Zane says, quieter now, and the thing is, I believe him. Not because he’s saying the words, but because I can feel it in the way he looks at me. The way his hands don’t hesitate when they touch me, like they’re unsure of what they’re allowed to hold.
I move even closer to Zane, closing the last inch between us.
