Page 66 of Late to Love

“What do you mean?” My emotions swirl, unable to land on anything.

“Do you want sympathy, or do you want solutions? An ear, or actions? Tell me what you want, and I’ll give it to you.”

“I want you to be just as pissed off and confused as me!” My words come out forcefully, and they take me aback.

But not Anthony. He nods, licking his lips and studying me intently.

I take a deep breath and let it out. “How aren’t you mad?”

A sympathetic grin. “Because I see his side of it. And I see yours. Beauty of being forty-one, I guess. Nothing is black and white.”

“Yeah, well, tell that to Jim Belle,” I snark, crossing my arms and wanting nothing more than to wallow in petulance. Seems like a great place to be right now.

“I will, if you want me to.”

“Ugh, stop being so understanding!” I groan in frustration.

He leans over, cupping my chin and pulling me to him for a soft kiss. He deepens it instantly, sweeping his tongue into my mouth and claiming me with a sureness that I’m desperate for. I kiss him back, needy and eager, but this time it’s not a physical need. It’s emotional. And it wallops me so hard that it nearly takes my breath away.

Even still, the kiss doesn’t settle me. It might actually make it worse, because all I want to do is go to the hardware store and yell at my dad that if he’d just give me one ounce of understanding like the incredible man driving this truck, he’d see I’m happier than I’ve ever been.

He’d see that I love this man.

The realization is unsettling. Terrifying, actually. Am I deciding I love him purely out of spite? Or has it taken something like this to push me to that realization?

I don’t know.

“Darcy, I…” he stops, his eyes searching mine.

For one heart-stopping moment, I think he’s going to say the very words I just thought.I love you.

But he doesn’t. Instead, he sighs. “I’m on your side. Always. Okay?”

I nod silently, not trusting myself to speak.

The gravel crunches beneath the tires as Anthony pulls us back onto the highway, the engine revving as we get back up to speed.

“I know what I need.” The words come out steady.

Anthony simply glances at me, nothing but understanding in his eyes.

“Take me home. I need power tools.”

“Hell yeah, you do.” He grins, then punches the gas.

Chapter24

Anthony

IHATE WAKING up alone. I hate going to bed alone. I hate making a small pot of coffee. I hate taking a shower by myself and seeing the shampoo and conditioner that isn’t mine sitting in the shower, taunting me.

I hate that I’m too busy to go to my spot on the beach and sit and think. I hate the snot-nosed little kids that are running around like hooligans and absolutely refuse to listen to me when I tell them not to run, because their parents sure as shit can’t be bothered to do it.

I want Darcy. I want to wake up with her. I want her teasing me. I want everything about her, always. But I sure as shit haven’t figured out a way to tell her. I need to—hell, Iwantto, but she retreated like a turtle after the blow-up with her dad yesterday. I dropped her off at her house as requested, then came back to work to focus on anything that wasn’t Darcy. The problem was that everything I saw reminded me of her. The bowling lanes, obviously. Pool tables that didn’t hold a candle to the masterpiece she’d hand-crafted for me upstairs. The drinks I made, each one somehow tying back to her. And I slept like shit, grabbing the silk pillow next to me and breathing in her scent, which only got me hard instead of helping me drift off to sleep.

I’m a fucking wreck.

I don’t like seeing her sad. But I can’t fix that. It’s not my place, and if I want any kind of lasting thing with her, then I sure as shit don’t need to stick my nose into her and her dad’s relationship.

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