Page 84 of Delicate Storm

“At your floor,” he adds, pointing into the hallway, his eyes on my door.

“Oooh. Are you coming in?”

“No, Paige.” He smiles. “Not tonight.”

“Shame.” I pout and he shakes his head.

“It really fucking is. But how about I walk you to your door?”

“I like what happened last time you did that.”

Easton chuckles and it lights up his face, making me giddy. “You should laugh more. It suits you.”

“Thanks. Do you have your key?”

“Yep.” I pull out my key and unlock the door, but I can’t bring myself to step inside. “You’re really not coming in?”

“Paige,” he warns, his deep, strained voice making me shiver. “I—”

“You can’t. I get it. I do. But just so you know, I really want you to. Actually, I want you in general.” I step forward and walk my fingers up his chest as I whisper, “All the damn time.”

“Fuuck, Paige.” Easton steps back and runs his hand through his hair, his expression pained.

“Sorry. I—” My phone rings, cutting me off, and I groan. “Shit, that’s my dad. I better answer.”

“You better. I have to go anyway.”

He takes another step back but doesn’t press the button until I walk inside, waiting. I hold the door open and wave, my longing gaze lingering as I sigh.

“Night, Paige.” Easton shakes his head and spins around.

“Night, Window-Seat Guy,” I say to his back, smiling when his shoulders lift in another laugh.

“I’m home, Dad,” I answer when the doors shut. “Safe and sound.” And very much alone, just like I wanted.

Only I no longer wish that were true.

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

Easton

It’s a short week for me with the bye this weekend, so I make the most of my time with Isaac, packing as much into my days off as physically possible.

This morning—the movies. Which I’m still uncertain about, but he’s been desperate to go, so I figured it was worth a shot, and I’m hoping the early screening will be less busy.

On our way down to the parking garage, we stop off at the lobby to check for mail, and I instantly regret it when I find Paige walking through the glass doors at the front of the building, heading in our direction.

I smile, but my expression remains cool and definitely doesn’t reflect the fact that I am still cursing myself for walking away the other night. Isaac was at my mom’s ahead of a game against our biggest rivals—which we won—so I had no reason to go home, and fuck… I wanted her. But I would never take advantage of the situation when she was obviously drunk.

Our eyes lock, and I can tell instantly that she remembers as her nose crinkles adorably. As though she’s embarrassed. Butshe has nothing to be embarrassed about. I’m the dick that rejected her. I should be embarrassed.

Each step brings us closer together, and I’m grappling with what to do or say when she turns toward the building’s restaurant seconds before we’ve reached her, making the decision for me.

I’ve barely taken a step toward the front desk when Isaac tugs on my hand, pulling me in Paige’s direction.

“That’s my friend, Dad.”

“Your friend?” I scan the lobby looking for other kids but there’s no one around. “Who?”

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