Page 97 of Get Me to the Starting Line

I smile at his response. There isn’t anything he can do personally except intimidate the shit out of Ian, but I’m not surprised he says this.

“Thank you.”

Julien reaches a hand to stroke my cheek gently, my eyes fluttering closed at the contact.

“Can I ... Can I kiss you?” he asks, his voice so gentle, my heart clenches.

I nod, expecting the burning passion of the last two times we kissed. But instead, he takes his time, cupping my face and neck in his hands, pulling me in. When his lips meet mine, they’re tentativeand soft. Almost reverent. I grasp at his shirt, keeping him close even though he clearly doesn’t want to go anywhere.

He pulls away a fraction. “You are strong,” he whispers, bringing his lips back to mine.

“Caring.” Another slow kiss where his tongue swipes along my bottom lip, and I part for him. Fuck, he tastes so good.

“Stubborn and smart as hell.” He kisses the smile right off my mouth, deepening his movements. Claiming me.

“And so fucking beautiful.” This time the kiss isn’t soft or tender. It’s hot and heavy, his body pressing into mine. As though he wants me to physically feel his words with my body.

I feel it alright. I feel it so deeply it scares me, and I have to pull away, gulping air into lungs that feel too tight. Those dark, intense eyes sear straight through my heart and into my soul.

I love him.

Iloveher.

Over and over again my mind traces the words. I’ve never been in love before. Maybe as a teenager, and there was a girl I thought I loved in my twenties.

But not like this.

This all-consuming feeling that’s equal parts exhilarating and fucking terrifying. What if I lose her? What if I lose Levi? What if they don’t love me back? My own mother didn’t, and that’s supposed to be the purest love.

The drive home is silent except for Levi’s babbling in the back seat, alternating between “shit” and “woo,” his two favourite words. Every time he says “woo,” my heart clenches. I’m surprised I haven’t had a heart attack.

I appreciate that Leah has let me sit in silence—she seems to be processing the events of the day, same as me. Her knuckles are white with how tightly she grips the steering wheel. I want to soothe her, but she’s giving off I-need-to-think vibes. All I want to do is touch her.

My hip isn’t even that sore anymore. It’ll ache after a long day, but I’ve been cleared. Dr. Sharpe said so at my last appointment.

As the night progresses, the silence gets heavier and heavier. I can feel the weight between us and my stomach is in knots. Do I tell her I love her? I don’t know if I’m ready to share that yet. The feeling is still so new to me.

I need to sit with the words in my mind for a bit longer. If I blurt them out the second I think them, I could destroy the one chance I have.

Once Levi is in bed, Leah squares her shoulders and marches over to the couch where I’m icing my hip. My shoulders tense as if bracing for a battle, but it looks like there’s already a war raging inside her. I wait for her to say something.

I wait.

And wait.

Finally she blows out a breath, stealing mine in the process. Uneasiness settles in the pit of my stomach, and I no longer want her to speak. I don’t want to hear what she’s thinking. I just want to kiss her and soothe whatever doubts she’s having.

“How’s your hip?” she finally asks.

My brows raise in surprise. That’s not what I was expecting. “It’s feeling pretty good. Caleb gave me the all clear at my appointment yesterday.”

She nods, digesting the words. “Is the elevator in your building fixed?”

There it is. The question I’ve been waiting for. We haven’t talked about my apartment in weeks. We haven’t talked about my apartment since I got the call that it was fixed.

“Yes, it is.”

“I think ... I think it would be best if you moved back to your place.” Her voice trembles, but she’s not mincing words. She doesn’t want me here anymore.

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