Page 31 of After All This Time

"So you had a good night?" I break the silence, keeping my eyes fixed on the road ahead.

"Yeah, it was fun."

"You been harassed much or just by that one guy?"

"You mean Tate?"

"Yeah."

"He wasn't harassing me. He's just a huge flirt. Kind of like you and the way you act around every woman I've ever seen you with," she fires back, and my eyes snap to hers, expecting her to crack a smile or laugh it off at least. But no, she's completely serious.

"I'm nothing like that guy!"

"Oh, please," she scoffs, rolling her eyes. "You flirt with anything that has a pulse, aside from me, of course. I'm the exception to the rule, but I guarantee if you could, you would." She's teasing, but something about the way she says it gets under my skin.

There's something about the idea of her that feels… off, wrong even. Or maybe not wrong at all, and that's what's throwing me. We're not related by blood, just by circumstance, but I've neverlet myself think about her like that. She's the one person I've always seen as off-limits; that line between us has always been there. And yet, here I am with the thought of her ever being more than my friend clawing at the edges of my mind.

Where in the hell did that thought even come from?

It's like my brain took a sharp left turn I wasn't prepared for, sending me full speed down a winding road of "what-ifs" and "this could never happen," while some traitorous voice in my head whispers,"But what if it did?"

"I've even seen you flirt with my mom," she adds, bringing me back to reality.

"What the fuck?" I whip my head back toward her, eyebrows practically hitting my hairline. "That's bullshit, and you know it."

"Okay, fine, maybe not my mom, but definitely with her friends. I've seen the way they look at you."

"What can I say? I like older women." I casually throw it out there, half expecting her to laugh and move on. She does, but the sound fades quickly, her fingers absently twisting a loose thread on her jeans while she gazes down into her lap. "Listen, Mills, I know you can handle yourself, but just be careful with guys like that."

She lifts her head, eyes narrowing as she holds my gaze, and for a moment, I forget I'm behind the wheel—my focus is entirely on her.

"Guys like what? Ones who are openly into me?"

"No, because any guy would be dumb not to want you."

Her eyes widen just a fraction before she slowly looks away from me and stares straight at the road ahead. I feel it—this energy shift, one I just forced upon us, and suddenly, my mouth feels like sandpaper. I clear my throat, my fingers flexing against the steering wheel as I grip it tighter.

"You can't exactly take him home to your mom." I shrug it off, keeping my eyes firmly fixed on the road. "She'll lose her shit, and my dad will blame me for not stepping in."

The silence that follows is fucking loud.

Out of the corner of my eye, I see her arms crossed tightly over her chest, her body angling away from me like she's trying to put as much distance as the car allows between us. The air from the vent rustles a few loose strands of her hair, sending them dancing across her face, but she doesn't brush them away; she just stares out her window like she's trying to burn a hole through the glass.

"How could I forget?" she eventually says, her voice cold. "This babysitting gig you've got going on means your ass is on the line if I dare to make my own choices."

"That's not what this is," I urge, trying to pull us back from whatever cliff we're racing toward. But she refuses to budge and continues to block me out.

"Okay."

That's all she says—just that one single word that lands like a well-aimed punch to the gut.

Is there any word more final than a woman's okay? Do I want my balls handed to me before I make it home? No to both.

So I shut my mouth, respect the invisible wall she just put up between us, and silently drive home.

When we finally reach the apartment, the quiet stretches on. I unlock the door, push it open, and Amelia walks in behind me without a word. But when her shoulder brushes mine, something inside me snaps. Before I can stop myself, I reach out for her, fingers curling around her delicate wrist. She freezes, staring at the spot where I'm holding her, and I can practically feel the tension leaving her body. I give her a gentle, playful tug, pulling her a little closer to me in an attempt to close the distance between us.

"Come on," I say, trying to manage a half smile, "you can't just stop talking to me forever, Mills. Do you know how awkward that's going to be? Living here every day in complete silence while you sit there thinking about all the ways I'm an asshole?"

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