My smile grows a little wider. “You’ve been working damn hard. I’m proud of you.”
Matty buries his face in my chest again. “Thank you,” he says, exhausted, then leans back on his desk.
The relief of his touch is something else. It gets all mixed up inside me. I want to get on with it, just tell him how I feel, but I manage to keep my mouth shut.
He’s right up on a deadline. And since he sat there like a champ while I tattooed him in front of my boss, I fully intend to show Matty the same support.
“Is there anything I can help with?”
He shakes his head. “The computer work is the last hurdle. The only other thing is the set, but that’s too complicated. I’ll have to do it myself.”
I lean back. “Too complicated for who?” I challenge him.
Matty’s smile turns into a grin. I know he likes my attitude, and seeing him respond to it is hot. “Trust me. You’d have to take that whole thing apart super carefully and then take all these little pieces from the blue cabinet and place them in this detail that’s exceptionally counterintuitive, especially—”
“The blue cabinet?” I ask, pointing with my good hand.
He scrunches his mouth to the side. “Yeah, the blue cabinet.”
I point at the current set. “Where does this one go?”
He gestures to the plastic tub. “There. And I even wrote down instructions so I wouldn’t forget, but you only have one hand—”
“Got ‘em,” I say, swiping the handwritten notes from the bottom of the tub. “And I don’t mind moving slow. Even if I’m just a tenth your speed, it will still help.” I give him half a smile. “I’ll get started?”
Matty throws his hands up in the air. “Fine!” he laughs. “You win.” He catches my eye, and we stand like that for a minute, both of us smiling.
“I’m glad you’re here,” he says.
“Me, too,” I say. “Now get that cute ass of yours to work.”
CHAPTERTWENTY-FIVE
MATTY
I don’t knowwhat time it is when I finally finish my editing project. My eyes ache, and my body buzzes with exhaustion.
What I do know is that I feel good. Really damn good, actually. With the help of my friends and Stone, the film has come together even better than I imagined. My heart swells with pride just thinking about it.
I glance over my shoulder. Stone is busy at work, assembling the last pieces of the set slowly with his good hand. I doubted that anyone could make sense of my chaotic notes, but somehow, he’s pulled it off.
Somehow, he’s here. Despite the way I ran from him, trying to hide from what he meant to me, Stone still came back.
I push back from the computer and stand. When he looks up to me, his lids are heavy, and I see that he’s pulled his hair back under his cap. His sleeves are rolled up, revealing the vividly black tattoos that I’ve somehow memorized without even realizing it.
The blooming flowers, flickering flames, and the warm smile of his grandma.
My heart jumps as Stone looks to me. “How’s it going?”
I cross over to him. “Finished,” I say, pushing the word through a yawn.
But even in all my exhaustion, something stirs. Stone is here for me, even when I’m not strong enough to be here for him.
I want to be strong enough for him.
I trace my fingers over my own tattoo. Strike that. I am strong enough for him, every bit as strong as I need to be.
I drape my hands around his shoulders and lay my face against his chest. His heart beats, heavy and steady, and I take a deep inhale of his scent. His heat is like an embrace, warming all the other feelings away.
