Page 79 of Every Chance After

We both take a breath, chuckling at talking over each other. Her grip on my forearms tightens as my hands gently rest at her sides like middle schoolers about to slow dance for the first time.

She doesn’t need my help, but she’s not letting go. I’m close enough to catch the sweetness of the wine on her breath and wonder about the softness of her lips as she lightly nibbles her bottom one.

“There you go again, catching me,” she says softly.

Her words yank me back tothatday when she stumbled from her wrecked car, ripped the knife out of her body, and fell into my arms. Here we are again, two feathers caught in the wind.

“I’ll always catch you.”

My promise brings a smile to her face, but a pinch to her brow, too. She’s sad, and my words only make it worse, somehow.

“I love your family,” she says, “but can we go? I don’t want to be rude or unsociable?—”

“Why the hell not? I am all the time. They’re used to it.”

She laughs, hands slipping to my biceps. “They make allowances for you. I stillcarewhat they think. I care what you think, too.”

She hesitantly says the last part, and her words hang there, mixing with the warmth collecting in the small space between us. The ends of her long hair dangle, tickling my forearm. Heat rises with my quickening heartbeat—it’s been an age since I’ve been this close to a woman. It’s been even longer since I remember goosebumps over someone’s delicate touch. Or felt twinges of anticipation and hope, staring into someone’s eyes. All those things are happening with her. She is sunlight, peeking slowly through the window, waking me from my self-induced coma, and begging me back to life.

She is too young for me, too beautiful, too goddamned nice. My guilt and her losses render our situation too fucked up for anything beyond friendship.I know this.

And yet, our proximity pushes me into thoughts beyond friendship. I want to say fuck it and dive into her like I did at the lake after losing my fishing rod. Go deep, searching her. Get lost in her. Let her have all of me. My rough hands massaging those sore hips. The aching pressure of my affection sending her against the wall just to feel all of her on me. Lips tangled with mine, hot, and breathy. Clothes off to make an exploration of every single freckle. I’d fucking worship her.

I doubt she’s known real attention or release, full-bodied and mind-shattering—not because of her age but because of the selfish prick she almost married. Maybe he’d “let” her get hers, but never would’ve prioritized it. Not like I would. Not like she deserves.

Not that I deserve a chance with her.

Damn it, Grady. Focus.

Her breath hits my cheek, and I fixate on her eyes. Her widened pupils bring selfish satisfaction. “Who would dare callTheMarnie Strange rude or unsociable?”

She laughs. “There’s a first time for everything. Like you calling me Marnie. That might be a first... Not sure I like it as much, coming from you.”

“I’ll stick with Marina, then.”

“Tell me, Grady. Are you trying to stand out, or do you see me differently than everyone else?”

“Both.”

Her lips curve into a pleased smile, and I can’t help but offer one, too.

“Are you a couple now?” Marigold’s voice carries down the quiet hallway, forcing our hands away from each other.

“Damn, Marigold,” I huff. “Don’t sneak up.”

“It looked like you were going to kiss,” she points out, sounding confused.

“We weren’t going to kiss. We’re just friends, and I’m an old man, and it’s none of your business.”

Marina glances at her feet, looking almost disappointed. I pick up her cane and return it to her.

“The hallway belongs to everyone,” Marigold explains weakly.

“You’re right.” I rake a hand over my head. “We were talking. Friends talk.”

“It’s just… you’re less shadowy today.”

I feel less shadowy today, not that I’ll admit it aloud. Even to Marigold. My head droops, wondering how to end this line of questioning without confusing her or making her feel bad.

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