Page 131 of The Lineman

Then, quietly, I murmured, “Okay. I won’t.”

Mike let out something between a sigh and a laugh. “Better.”

We sat there like that for a long moment, our faces close, our breaths mingling.

Then he kissed me.

Soft. Slow.

Like he was memorizing me.

Like he was grateful.

Like our kiss could make everything okay.

I kissed him back, my fingers curling around the front of his shirt, holding on.

Because, fuck, I was grateful, too.

Chapter thirty-six

Mike

Myneckwaskillingme. My back wasn’t much better.

I cracked one eye open, my body immediately protesting as I sat up in the world’s most uncomfortable hospital chair. My legs were stiff, and my brain felt like someone had stuffed it with cotton.

I blinked, rubbing at my eyes before stretching, only to realize I hadn’t been sleeping alone.

Elliot was still in bed, his chest rising and falling in an easy, steady rhythm. The bruises on his face had purpled overnight, angry against his sun-kissed skin. His leg was still immobilized, his IV still hooked into his arm, but he looked . . . peaceful.

Relaxed, even.

I didn’t remember falling asleep. The last thing I recalled was holding his hand, feeling the warmth of his fingers tangled with mine.

His whispered words still clung to the edges of my mind, mixing with the exhaustion and fear I’d finally let go of sometime in the early hours.

I sat forward. Elliot looked so peaceful sleeping, yet his skin was far too pale, too lacking in life’s color, especially for one kissed by the sun. My eyes lingered on the bruises along his cheekbone, the ones that hadn’t been there last night. I wanted to touch them, to smooth them away, to do something to make up for the fact that I hadn’t been there when he fell.

But I hesitated.

Would it hurt if I touched them?

Would he even want that?

Because last night had already been a lot—too much, really—too intimate.

I had nearly told him too much, said too much, admitted—

I’d nearly let precious words slip past my lips, nearly let myself be honest.

But I wasn’t sure if I was ready for that.

Was now even the right time?

Was I just feeling this way because he was hurt?

Or did I already feel this way and was just too stubborn to admit it?

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