Page 103 of Chasing You

She sighs, dropping the spatula into the bowl and giving me her attention.

I lean my hip against the counter, watching as she bites the inside of her lip. We’ve been living in this bubble of happiness, ignoring anything outside of the feeling of being together again, so I know she’s nervous to rock the boat.

I brush my hand across her cheek. “It’s okay, I’m not going anywhere.”

She’s still struggling to believe that things between us aren’t going to end the same way twice. Quiet conversations with our heads on her pillows have been filled with her every worry, and me doing my best to tell her that this time will be different.

But words are simply that; nothing will convince her more than my actions matching exactly what I’m telling her.

“If—“ she lets out a big breath. “If you hadn’t got hurt, you were going to leave the next day.”

“Yeah.” I won’t try to pretend that wasn’t true.

“What would’ve happened then?”

I run my hand down her arm, landing my fingers in between hers. “I was already planning in my head how to ask my boss for more time off so that I could come back soon.” I squeeze her hand in mine, as if emphasising the words. “At that point, I didn’t believe I had half a chance with you. I was convinced that even friends would be a stretch, so I decided to come back in a few months, see if you’d changed your mind.”

“But then you got hurt.”

“Then I got hurt.” I nod, sliding my arms around her waist. “And the only person I wanted to see was sitting at my bedside the entire time. It scared me, the thought of not working for so long. Initially my mind went straight to worry, to stress, that I’d fucked everything up by getting hurt. But seeing you there beside me,” her hazel eyes hold me hostage as I speak. “I realized what Ihad gained, more time with you. And that seemed to make everything better.”

“So getting beaten up was really the best gift you could’ve gotten,” she says with a small smile.

“It gave me this,” I say, pushing her hair behind her ear. “So yeah, I’d say I’m pretty lucky.” She snorts, shaking her head before I smile against her mouth, catching her lips in a searing kiss.

I’m waiting for her to ask me what’s going to happen in just over two weeks when I’m supposed to be cleared for work, and I don’t know how I’m going to answer. With every passing day, I’m getting closer to needing to make a decision, and simultaneously getting further away from feeling confident about making one.

All I feel about the idea of going back to work is dread, and I’m not sure what that means for me.

But Marina doesn’t ask, she just goes back to her brownies. “Can you get the tin?” she asks. “Third drawer from the left.”

I nearly trip over her ankle as I squeeze past her to get to the drawer. Her kitchen is barely big enough for two people.

“This would be so much easier at the house,” I mutter under my breath as I pull the tin out of the drawer.

“What? The B&B?” she asks. “I don’t think we would get a second of peace.”

“No,” I look down at my feet. I guess this is as good a time as any. “Not the B&B, the house.”

“What house, Miles?”

I haveto force my knee to stay still as I drive up the paved driveway to the house I put an offer on when Isla and I went house hunting. As soon as I walked through the door and saw the big wooden kitchen with a white marble countertop, I was sold.

I pull up, putting my truck in park in front of the doublewooden doors, the top half decorated with stained glass windows.

It reminded me so much of my window at the Lost and Found that I had an immediate good feeling as soon as we pulled up behind the realtor that day.

“Miles,” Marina’s voice is wary as she unbuckles her seatbelt, “whose house is this?” I don’t answer, I just open my door and jump out. I hear her door open not a second after mine, and they fall shut at the same time.

“Miles.”

I reach out for her hand, pulling her towards the light stucco building as I pull a key out of my back pocket. I feel nervous, more nervous than I thought I would be.

I slide it into the doorknob, barely breathing as the lock pops open. I push on the door, letting Marina walk through first.

She’s quiet as she walks through the small entryway, taking note of the staircase on her right before turning to her left. She floats down the single step that leads her into the open living space, the kitchen being the first thing she sees as I follow her down.

“What?” She looks down at the wooden floors. “I feel like I should take my shoes off.” I chuckle as she slides her feet out of her sneakers, walking further into the space in her little socks.

---