Page 78 of Sunshine

If he were still here, would I forgive him? Would Wells and I still have this . . . thing between us? This thing that feels a lot likehope?

A tear slides down the side of my face, dropping off my cheek and into the soft pillow. The truth is, I don’t regret a single moment that led me here, wrapped up in Wells’s arms. But I also don’t know what to do from here.

What I said earlier, about making a mess of this . . . I think I need to take it back.

My eyes squeeze shut as another tear falls. Is that what I’ve done? Have I made a mess of this?

If we do this, it’s going to mean something to me.

I feel him shift behind me, a warm hand flexing around my ribs as his mouth nestles on my nape. “You’re up?” he softly murmurs against my skin, sending a riot of goosebumps over my shoulder and scalp.

I quickly wipe my face before I turn to face him. He’s sleepy and swollen and my heart nearly bursts at the sight. He cracks a single eye open, barely a sliver, and his lips curve into a smile that punches right into me. “Yeah,” I say back, cheeks pulled wide. And I feel the heavy haze of grief begin to dissipate.

He pulls me into his chest. “Did you get any sleep?”

I shake my head. “Not really,” I admit.

He hums, his fingertips featherlight as they stroke down my bare back. “I have to leave soon,” he says. “Kasey and I are taking a couple horses out to Williamson County.”

“Are they being adopted?” I ask, looking up at him.

“Maybe.” He smiles. He presses his thumb into my bottom lip, dragging it down and watching in fascination. “I can’t bear to leave you like this.”

“Then don’t,” I try, reaching to pull his shoulders into me.

He relents, letting me move his large frame over my body until he’s caging me into the bed. Heat pools in his eyes. “Trust me, sunshine,” he murmurs. “If I could lock you in this room and keep you here for months, I would.”

“Why do you call me ‘sunshine’?” I ask, my gaze fastened to his face. I’ve asked so many times over the years—I finally want to know.

He looks down at me with so much tenderness I almost can’t stand it, his eyes bright and honest as he asks, “Isn’t it obvious?”

I shake my head, and his smile grows wistful.

“I’ve always lived in the shadows . . . the shadows of my brothers, of Jason. I never felt as exposed as you made me feel the second you showed up in our lives. I knew you were Jason’s girl, but . . . you saw me, too. You looked at me and found me hiding in my obscurity. Your light pulls me out of it, Layla. It shines over me in a way I’ve never known before.”

Tears burn my eyes as he adjusts his weight over me, his hand winding into my hair. “Having you like this . . . it’s like touching the sunrise. You might pull me in so deep that I burn to ashes, but I don’t care. It’s already worth it.”

He kisses away my tears as they fall until we’re both breathless. Until our fingers turn frantic and our mouths hot.Sliding a hand down my body, he curls his fingers into my slick skin and groans, circling around me and making me come in mere minutes. It’s obvious he’s taken care and interest in learning the ways I like to be touched, and now he wields that power over me until I’m panting and writhing beneath him.

When I reach to touch him, to grab him beneath the sheets, he shudders and shakes his head, pulling away. “I can’t,” he breathes. “Or I won’t leave this bed, and someone will come knocking.”

I laugh, my skin electric as I come down from the high of him. “Okay,” I say. “I’ll get dressed.”

“Stay,” he insists. “I want to know you’re here, warm in my bed. It’ll be a few hours—go to sleep, get some rest, and I’ll bring you home when I’m done.” He presses a tender kiss to my temple. “Okay?”

I nod, pressing another kiss to his mouth. “Okay,” I say. It’s probably better anyway—I already didn’t go home last night, and sneaking in at dawn feels more scandalous than walking in later.

My mother will be upset regardless.

He smiles, pleased. And it shatters my heart.

Wells dropsme off late in the afternoon, after insisting on feeding me one of Mrs. Bennett’s egg salad sandwiches at the cabin with sweet tea he pulled out from his fridge. It’d felt so ordinary, so normal to share lunch with him, that I couldn’t deny the deep contentment that washed over me as we sat together at the tiny kitchen table.

The few hours of deep sleep after a night of incredible sex didn’t hurt, either.

My dress, now soiled, lies in a hamper in Wells’s closet. He brings me home in the black T-shirt and sweatpants he lent me last night, and as we both look out the window, it’s obvious he’s nervous for me to walk through the front door.

“You’ll call me?” he asks. “If you need anything?”

---