And there it is again.That swooping thing.
We resettle with Echo banished to the foot of the bed, where she curls up with her back to us in a display of feline disapproval.Silas and I end up face-to-face, his arm tucked under his head, looking stupidly content.
“So Echo has a vet appointment next week,” he says, “and I’m dreading it because she howls the entire car ride.Like, biblically.The last time, the lady in the car next to me at a stoplight looked genuinely concerned that I was torturing a small child.”
I smile, watching him talk.He’s so animated when he tells stories, his free hand gesturing, his eyes crinkling at the corners behind his glasses.
“And then—get this—the second we pull into the vet’s parking lot?Complete silence.Like she’s saying ‘oh, we’re here already?how delightful.’The vet told me she’s the best-behaved cat they see.Meanwhile, I have scratch marks on my arms from getting her into the carrier.”
He keeps talking about Echo’s duplicitous behavior, about a photo shoot he has coming up for a local family whose toddler apparently has strong opinions about whether or not he’ll smile (“spoiler: he won’t”), about how he’s been repainting this vintage dresser he found at an estate sale and discovered there are approximately seven hundred layers of paint to strip off first.
And somewhere between the dresser restoration and him explaining some obscure furniture refinishing technique, it hits me.
Oh no.
Oh no no no.
I’m in love with him.
Not just wanting him.Not just enjoying his company or thinking he’s hot or appreciating that he’s patient with my body image issues.
I’m in love with Silas Montgomery.With his terrible cat stories and his enthusiasm for furniture restoration and the way he touches me like I’m precious.The pebbles he drops for me, his endless patience, the way he looks at me like I hung the moon—all of it.
I’m in love with my brother’s best friend.I’m in love with a man who lives hours away in a town I swore I’d never move back to.
I’m in love, and I’m completely fucked.
“You okay?”Silas stops mid-sentence about wood stain, his brow furrowing.“You’re doing that thing where you overthink.I can literally see the gears turning.”
“I’m fine.”My voice comes out steadier than I feel.“Just...tired.”
He studies me for a long moment, and I think he’s going to push.Instead, he pulls me closer, his hand cupping the back of my head as he presses a kiss to my forehead.
The tenderness of it makes everything worse.Or better.I can’t tell anymore.
“I can’t do three weeks apart again,” he murmurs against my hair.“I barely survived this time.”
My heart stutters—part joy, part terror.
On the nightstand, my phone buzzes, shattering the moment.
Hunter
Wrapping up at the bar.Be home in 20.
“Oh shit.”I sit up so fast I nearly knock Silas in the face.“Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit.”
“What’s wrong?”
“Hunter just texted.He’s leaving the bar.He’ll be home in twenty minutes.”I’m already scrambling out of bed, following the trail of discarded clothes like breadcrumbs while I get dressed.“I have to beat him there.”I find my jeans draped over his lamp in the living room.How did they even get there?“Where’s my other boot?”
“Under the couch.”Silas is up too, helping me search.“Okay, so you’ve got maybe twelve minutes?—”
“To drive ten minutes, park, get inside, and look like I’ve been asleep for hours.”I yank my shirt on, realize it’s inside out, and don’t care.“I’m so screwed.”
“You can do this.”He hands me my jacket.“Just—drive safe, okay?Don’t speed.”
“I have to speed!”
