Page 152 of Push

“The mean one?”

“Everyone has bad days. You’re never intentionally mean.”

“The yard sale…”

“I’d upended our life, and you were hurting pretty damn bad. It’s not the same thing.”

“I sold all your favorite stuff.”

“The keyword being ‘stuff.’ I can buy new stuff. It’s easy to replace. You aren’t. You’re kinda…dunno…priceless. One of a kind.”

My cheeks flamed, and my patched-up heart squished in my chest. “I think the same thing about you.” I touched my hand to his cheek. It was stubbly and rough but still soft—just like the sigh that escaped him.

“You really think that?” he asked in a whisper. “About me?”

“Yeah.”

“In a…good way?” He sounded doubtful.

“In a very good way.” I pecked a kiss on the tip of his nose. “You’re a sweet and genuine guy under all the jokes. A super hard worker. A great dad. A wonderful friend. You always help me feel safe—even when I’m spiraling. Plus…” I hoped he could hear the grin teasing in my voice. “You’re kinda gorgeous.”

“Damn,” Toby breathed out. “Gorgeous enough for a sexy kiss?”

“That wasn’t our agreement, Tobias.”

“You going all bossy lawyer on me isn’t helping things. Can I negotiate my way into a sexy kiss tonight?” His body pressed impossibly close to mine. “Maybe…some sexy kisses starting”—he flicked the waistband of my unsexy knickers—“here.”

I squirmed. “Um…” I swallowed hard. “Toby… We’re not…”

He groaned. “I know we’re not ready. My body just refuses to listen to my brain.”

“Soon.” I gnawed down on my lip. “Maybe.”

“Only when you’re ready.” A hint of sadness edged his voice when he whispered, “Only when you truly love me again, okay?”

“Okay,” I whispered back.

I buried my face in the pillow and clamped my lips together. Important words stayed stuck in my mouth. I didn’t want to admit I was already there. It was even more than being “all in,” like Toby wanted.

I truly loved him again.

And that thought was terrifying now I knew how bad it hurt to lose him the first time.

48

She Kept Her Appointment

Gwen

A man followed me.

Pitt Street was chaotic in the morning rush. When the train stopped, I spilled out the doors, tumbling onto the street with the horde…

And there he was.

Sunglasses, a charcoal suit, and slicked-back curls usually would’ve blended in with the sea of commuters, but the man stood out. Tattoos etched every inch of visible skin on his hands and neck, and he lounged against the station wall, pretending to read a magazine.

Aboutquilting.

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