He looked at me for a long moment.
"Here," he said. "With me."
"Yes."
"Even though it's complicated."
"It's not—" I stopped. "It doesn't have to be complicated right now."
"No," he said. "It doesn't."
He wasn't moving toward me and he wasn't moving away. Just standing there in the cold, steady as he always was, giving me the space to come to him the same way he'd given me space all night. All summer. All six months of silence.
That was the thing about Sawyer. He didn't push. He didn't manage or strategize or figure out the angle. He just—waited. Made himself available and waited and let you decide.
And my life had been nothing but deciding lately. What to take, what to turn down, who to be in which room, how to be Daphne without losing Daniela entirely. Every conversation a calculation. Every choice another door opening or closing.
He was the one place where I didn't have to decide anything.
He'd just tell me…and I'd argue. And he'd be right, and it would beso simple.
I closed the distance between us and put my hand flat on his chest.
"Stop giving me space," I said.
Something shifted in his eyes.
"Yeah?" he said.
"I've had enough space." I looked up at him. "Six months of space."
His hand came to my jaw. Not gentle…not gentle at all. Firm, gripping me, angling my face toward his.
"You're going to argue with me in there," he said.
"Probably."
"Good." His thumb traced my cheekbone. "I don't want it easy."
Then I grabbed his jacket, pulled him down and kissed him.
SEVEN
Sawyer
She kissed me first.
That was the thing I was going to be thinking about for a while—the way she'd grabbed my jacket and pulled me down like she was done waiting, like she'd made the decision somewhere between the paddock fence and now and wasn't interested in revisiting it.
Six months.
I'd been patient for six months and she'd walked out of Millie's back door in her jacket and her boots and come straight to me like she'd known where she was going the whole time.
I walked her backward to the trailer without breaking the kiss and somehow managed to get the door open. We tripped up the stairs and stumbled in, and I slammed the door shut again with my foot while I pressed her up against the counter.
She moaned against my mouth when her back hit the counter.
Six months. Too fucking long.
