Page 69 of Worth the Shot

God, why does he always see straight through me?

I swallow, hard. “I just—I’m scared,” I admit. Quiet. Raw. “I don’t know how to do this without waiting for it to fall apart.”

His expression softens with understanding. “You don’t have to pretend,” he says. “Or rush. Or be fearless. Just stay. That’s all I want. Stay when it’s easy. Stay when it’s hard. Just…” His voice drops to a whisper. “Stay with me. Choose us.”

Something splinters in my chest, but in a good way. Like the fear that’s been consuming me since Matt finally releases. I move before I can chicken out, sliding onto his lap, straddling him, heart against his heart.

“I’m trying,” I whisper. And then, braver: “I want to. More than I want anything else, I want this. With you.”

His hands settle on my hips like he was built for this exact moment. He presses his forehead to mine, breath warm and uneven. “You’re here,” he murmurs. “That’s enough.”

We lay like that for a while. Our legs tangled, foreheads touching, breaths mingling until the coffee goes cold and the morning light shifts across the floor. And somewhere along the lines of “just friends” flirty texts and movie nights that ended in desire so thick it was consuming, I think we started to build something. Something that feels warm, safe and a lot like home. My heart doesn’t feel like a ticking bomb anymore. Instead, it feels…whole.

Eventually, we manage to stop touching each other long enough to get it together and go dress shopping, like he promised. That’s after we shower together, obviously to save water, because we’re very environmentally conscious people.

I change into the outfit I packed for our date last night while Brennan pulls on a pair of jeans and a long-sleeve T-shirt that fits him a little too well. Keeping my hands off him in public is going to be a problem.

I grab my bag, and Brennan holds his hand out.

“Gimme your keys,” he says, in that annoyingly sexy, casual, confident way that makes it sound less like a request and more like a decision that’s already been made.

I unzip my purse and hand them over without breaking eye contact.

He smirks, then winks. “Good girl,” he murmurs, pressing a kiss to the top of my head.

“You know I don’t have any⁠—”

“Gas? I figured.” He shrugs, like it’s nothing. “So I’m going to fill your tank, and then we’re going to find you the most beautiful dress this city has to offer for the most beautiful girl in the world.”

He tips my chin up and kisses me again, slower this time.

I manage to pull back, barely. “We’re about to go absolutely nowhere if you don’t stop kissing me like this,” I whisper, my voice rough.

He laughs softly against my mouth, kissing me once more—quicker this time.

“You’re right,” he murmurs. “I could kiss you forever and never come up for air. My bad.”

He grabs his wallet and opens the door, motioning for me to go first.

The second it shuts behind us, his hand finds mine again like it belongs there. He presses a kiss to the back of my palm, then laces our fingers together and doesn’t let go the whole walk to the car.

“Sorry it’s kind of a mess,” I say, half embarrassed as I take in the state of my car. Empty water bottles, paper coffee cups, and random—probably clean—scrubs everywhere.

He just laughs. “Don’t apologize, baby. You’re busy. I don’t mind the messy parts.”

Baby.

Something about him using that word, in a mundane moment like this, hits like a live wire—fast and impossible to ignore. I can’t help but smile.

He opens the passenger door for me before heading around to the driver’s side. The second the dash lights up, he shakes his head, letting out a quiet laugh.

“Two miles til empty is crazy, Laney. You’re gonna get stuck somewhere someday.”

I sigh, rolling my eyes. “I’ll be fine. I know my car.”

“Right,” he says, pulling away from the curb. “We’ll go with that.”

We get to the gas station just as the number zero flashes on my dash next to the gas symbol. Brennan gets out, already pulling his card from his wallet as he swipes it. I watch him through the side mirror as he pushes his sleeves up, grabs the pump, and slides it into my tank. My mouth waters as I study the flex of his arm, the veins along it—God, that does something to me.