Page 32 of Best of Me

Her pouty lips purse to the side for just a moment before she nods and gestures for me to lead the way.

Mallory claims the left side, which suits me just fine, seeing as I prefer the right. We both make ourselves comfy and dig into the sundaes she made. One bite in, and I know this is going to be a staple in my life. “Jesus, this is so good,” I groan between bites.

“Right?” She grins and licks her spoon. “It’s my best friend Ashley’s creation. She calls it her ‘Has the Sads Sundae.’ She always makes it when she’s feeling down. I figured you could use it.”

“Wait, what? Why do you think I’m sad?” I mean, she’s not wrong, but she doesn’t know that.

“Your texts,” she says. Shrugging as if that explains everything. Newsflash: it doesn’t.

I eat the last spoonful and place the bowl on my nightstand. “I’m gonna need you to elaborate.”

She polishes off hers as well and passes me her bowl. “Duke. We haven’t talked in two days, which is fine. We’re both busy and have lives. But for you to textmeof all people, out of the blue at nine o’clock on a random Tuesday night…yeah, it’s safe to say something’s wrong.”

Her intuitiveness blows my mind; I bet it really helps in the classroom. “It was just a rough day on the job.”

Mallory licks her lips as she turns to face me, drawing her legs up under her. “You wanna tell me about it?”

My initial reaction is to say no. As amazing as Valorie was, she never really grasped how emotionally draining my job could be at times. She always expected me to move on from the traumas I deal with day in and day out in the blink of an eye.

But Mallory isn’t her sister, and I decide to take a chance. I bare my soul to her, telling her about the chase and the drugs and how the driver was badly injured. Somehow, I end up lying with my head in her lap as she plays with my hair, listening patiently as I confess to her how every accident I work makes me think of Val. Through it all, she listens patiently, never once judging me. By the time I’m finished, I feel freer than I have in years.

She continues raking her fingers over my scalp, offering me silent comfort. We’re both quiet for so long that it startles me when she speaks. “I-I think you’re incredibly brave, Duke. To have loved and lost the way you have, to have experienced everything you have, the fact that you’re still able to get up every day and put on that badge speaks volumes. You’re a good man with a good heart, and I know we aren’t all that close and that we don’t really know each other all that well, but if the things you deal with start to weigh on you too much, just know I’ll always be here to listen. That probably doesn’t mean much—”

I fly up from her lap, spinning to face her in the process so that we’re knee-to-knee. I clasp both of her cheeks, tilting her gaze to mine. “It means everything. Do you hear me? Everything.”

She nods, causing my hands to fall away. “Thank you.” Her words are nothing but a whisper.

“Why are you thanking me?” I ask, genuinely perplexed. I literally just ignored this girl for two days, asked her over out of the blue, and dumped all of my emotional baggage at her feet.

She reaches out and wraps her pinky around mine, the gesture equal parts surprising and soothing—or maybe it’s only surprising because how damn right it feels?“Because out of everyone, you called me. You needed someone and you called me. Don’t you get it?” Her amber eyes glisten. “I’ve never been anyone’s first choice, but you. Called. Me.”

The next thing I know, we’re both leaning in, and sparks fly as our lips softly brush. Feather soft, she sucks my bottom lip into her mouth before opening to me. Our knees and lips are our only points of contact as our tongues dance together as if it’s a choreographed routine, perfected over time. While our previous kisses have been fueled by lust, anger, and resentment, this one is a slow kindling built on connection and understanding. This kiss feels healing, like she’s knitting the tattered pieces of my soul back together. If I’m being honest, it kind of terrifies me, but not enough for me to stop.

After several more torturous moments, Mallory pulls away.

“Stay?” I ask, reaching forward to tuck a wayward strand of hair behind her ear. “Please. I’ll take the couch. Just…stay?”

Her eyes seem to glow as she nods. “Okay, Duke.”

I was totally prepared for her to argue, for me to have to beg, so her easy acquiescence throws me for a loop. “Huh?”

“I packed a bag, just in case.”

“Then I guess you don’t need one of my shirts to sleep in?”

A beatific grin splits her cheeks. “I brought sleep shorts, but I’ll take a shirt if you’re offering.”

I hop up from the bed, retrieve the larger of her two bags and a shirt from my closet. “I’m insisting.”

Mallory rises to meet me, and our fingers brush as she takes her stuff from my outstretched hand. She quickly fishes out her phone charger and plugs it in before she disappears into the bathroom. In her absence, I pace the room a few times, trying to rid myself of the nervous energy pulsing through me in waves.

I freeze when I hear the hinges of the bathroom door creak, trying to play it calm and cool. Too bad calm and cool goes right out the window when I see Mallory in my shirt. I bite downhardon my bottom lip, forcing my forbidden desire for her to remain unspoken.

Mallory moves past me, her lips tipped up in a mirthful smile as if she knows I’m on the verge of losing it. I’m frozen solid, wholly spellbound as she climbs back up into my bed, settling herself under the covers this time.

She fluffs the already-full pillow before snuggling down into it. “Aren’t you going to bed, too?” Her question spurs me into action, and I grab the quilt draped over the chair in the corner. “What are you doing?” she asks.

“I said I’d take the couch.”

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