Page 44 of Love is Blind

“No, there’s not,” he agrees.

When he doesn’t say anything more, I lace my fingers with his and give his hand a squeeze. Sometimes silence speaks louder than words and holding someone’s hand is more intimate than a kiss.

Chapter Eleven

Ghost

It was supposedto be quick—a simple apology. But I stalled as soon as she opened the door and I caught sight of her wearing my shirt. Whatever plan Holly had put into motion the other day was finally taking affect now that my head was somewhat clear. I had to remind myself why I was there, or I was going to push her up against the door and find peace deep inside of her again. It didn’t matter how fleeting it was I’d take it and that wasn’t fair to Birdie.

So, I did what I came to do. I apologized and explained the situation. I shared Abigail with her—something I had yet to do with anyone who wasn’t in my circle and to my surprise, it didn’t kill me to talk about her.

But once I spoke my piece, I didn’t leave and that’s where my plan went to shit. She took my hand and just held it. She didn’t ask me questions or force me to talk about my feelings. She just let me be and a few moments later, she laid her head on my shoulder and that sense of peace began to nudge at me again.

I settled back against the couch and we’ve been sitting in a comfortable silence ever since.

“So your real name is Reed.”

I glance down at our joined hands, weening off the same thoughts I had when I took her hand that night in the bathroom at Sally’s.

“Yeah.”

I lower my gaze, taking in the way her hair falls over my shoulder. I want to run my fingers through it, but I don’t want to stop holding her hand either.

“What’s your last name?”

I don’t even hesitate for a second before I answer. It’s that fucking sense of peace—knocks a man off his game.

“McCall.” My thumb draws circles over her palm. “Yours?”

“Callaghan.”

Like her first name, her last suits her too.

She removes her head from my shoulder and twists her body so she’s facing me. Those insanely gorgeous light eyes of her draw me in as a soft smile spreads across her lips. “Favorite color.”

Not sure where she’s going with this, I answer cautiously.

“Black.”

“Shocking.” She laughs then squeezes my hand. “You’re supposed to ask me mine.”

Oh, is that what we’re doing? Another thing I didn’t bargain on and still I’m not rushing out the door.

“What’s your favorite color?” I ask.

“Blue.” I frown at her response. It’s not that I got anything against the color blue, I just don’t like knowing she will never see it again.

“So, the clubhouse…do you live there permanently?”

“For the time being.”

My answer is short and to the point. I don’t think it’s necessary to share I took over my old man’s mortgage or that I can’t bring myself to set foot inside of the house since Abigail’s death.

“What about the rest of your biker pals?”

“Brothers,” I correct.

“That’s right, I forgot.” She rolls her eyes exaggeratedly but laughs. “Do your bikerbrotherslive there too?”

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