Page 21 of Uxpectedly Ever After

And just that single point of contact sends an intense heat spiraling through me, through every vein and blood vessel, all the way down to focus between my legs. It’s like he's somehow managed to touch every single inch of me all at once.

"It was." His fingers tighten around mine, and a big part of me wishes he would just keep holding on forever. "But it's part of the job. We all know the risks when we sign up."

The casual way he says it—like his life being in constant danger is just some accepted fact of life—makes a horrible ache start in my chest. I think back to that gas leak at Ember, the way he didn't hesitate before charging in. How many other times has he run straight toward danger while everyone else was running the other way?

"What about you?" he asks, his voice softer now, breaking into my thoughts. "You never really talk about your mom."

I stiffen. It’s a knee-jerk reaction to pull back, but his grip on my hand tightens just enough to let me know he's not letting go that easily.

"You don't have to," he adds, his eyes searching mine. "I'm just… I want to know you, Clover. The real you, not as my best friend's off-limits little sister who makes me think all kinds of things I shouldn't."

A surprised laugh escapes me despite the sudden heavy turn in the conversation. Yeah, I'm just going to pretend I didn't hear that last part, even as my internal temperature just went up by atleast ten degrees. "She used to make these ridiculously elaborate cocktails for her book club. They were totally amateur with way too much sugar and the weirdest garnishes you've ever seen. They were disgusting." My lips curl into a reluctant, fond smile at the memory. "I'd sneak sips when she wasn't looking, which is probably why I ended up working behind a bar in the first place."

Banks's smile is gentle, and I can’t seem to hold his gaze with the way he’s looking at me. I shift in my chair, crossing and then uncrossing my legs.

I take a deep breath. "She got sick my sophomore year of high school. You already know this because of Kasen, but it was cancer. She went from diagnosis to gone in about five months." The familiar ache rises in my chest. It’s duller now after eleven years but never completely absent. "Kasen took it really hard. I’m sure you remember."

"Yeah. He ended up dropping out that whole semester to help with everything."

I nod, remembering the blur of those months.

"And you?" Banks prompts softly, his thumb now rubbing slow, soothing circles around the inside of my wrist, and yeah, I think I might be melting right here at this table.

"I became super mom." The bitter little laugh that comes out of my mouth doesn't sound like me. "It was suddenly all up to me to keep the house running. I made sure Kasen ate something other than ramen. Got straight A's because that's what she would have wanted." I swallow past the sudden lump in my throat. "Control just kind of became my coping mechanism, I guess. If I could just keep everything in perfect order, then maybe nothing else bad would ever happen."

Banks's hand squeezes mine. "Is that why you hate it when I move your stuff or leave a mess?"

The question startles a laugh out of me. "Yes, you monster. That's exactly why."

"Noted," he says softly, his smile warm, his eyes never leaving my face. My toes curl into the worn rug under the table at the way he’s looking at me. "And for what it's worth, I think your mom would be incredibly proud of you. Running the hottest bar in Portland, working your ass off on your business degree, handling everything the way you do? That's impressive as hell, Freckles."

His words hit me hard, threatening to go straight to my head and make me do something stupid. I can't help it; the question just claws its way out of my throat. "Is that what you really think? Because at Kasen's birthday party last year, you said I was 'just playing bartender until I found a real job.'" The words were so upsetting at the time, they did a great job of getting rid of my crush on him.

He winces, running a hand through his hair again and tugging on the ends. "Christ, did I actually say that? All I remember is being buzzed and trying not to stare at you all night." His eyes lock on mine, serious and completely unguarded. "I've always thought you were incredible at what you do. Anyone who's seen you run that bar knows it's not just some job to you. It's your damn domain. Your passion."

"Then why say it?" I press, needing to hear the reason.

"Because I'm a goddamn idiot who says stupid shit when I'm nervous around an insanely gorgeous woman I can't have." He shrugs, a hint of his teasing grin returning, but it doesn't quite reach his eyes. "It's always been easier to try to push you away than to admit how incredible you are."

No one has ever put it quite like that before. Usually, people focus on how I need to "chill out" or "take a breath" or whatever other patronizing bullshit they think will magically fix me. Banks is the first person who's ever looked at my drive as something to admire instead of something to correct, and I didn’t even realize how much I needed to hear that until this very second.

"Thank you," I whisper, my voice coming out breathless. I clear my throat, desperately trying to regain some semblance of composure.

A massive clap of thunder crashes outside, startling both of us. I hadn't even noticed the storm rolling in, too caught up in our conversation. As soon as the thunder fades, rain starts to beat against the windows in a sudden, violent downpour. Wind kicks up and howls through the narrow alley beside my building, and the old windows rattle in their frames.

"Well, that came out of nowhere," Banks says, finally letting go of my hand to walk over to the window. The spot where his hand was feels cold, and I have to restrain myself from reaching for him again like some kind of desperate addict. "The weather app said it’d be clear all night."

"Yeah, well, predicting Portland weather is always a shitshow," I point out, joining him at the window. A flash of lightning illuminates his profile—the strong line of his jaw, the slight, almost imperceptible bump in his nose from where Kasen accidentally broke it during a backyard hockey game when I was sixteen. I remember bringing Banks ice packs while trying my hardest to pretend I wasn't staring at him. He's standing so close to me right now I can feel the heat radiating off his body, reminding me of all those years I spent trying my best to not notice how much he affected me.

"We should check the—"

The apartment plunges into darkness mid-sentence as the power cuts out.

"Shit," I mutter, blinking as my eyes try to adjust to the sudden blackness. "Storm or the apocalypse?"

A blinding flash of lightning followed immediately by a deafening crack of thunder that rattles the windows answers that question.

"Definitely leaning toward apocalypse." Banks chuckles, his voice suddenly much closer than I expected. "You have any candles stashed away somewhere?"

---