Page 174 of Push

We were hanging in there, against all odds, and the constant threat of keeping too many secrets and never quite trusting that our feelings for each other were enough.

I braced myself on a crooked elbow and let my eyes wander over Toby’s face. He scowled, his mouth flat.

“Grumpy bear,” I teased him softly.

Tentatively, I smoothed my finger in the crease knitted between his brows. The line was stubborn, but he gusted out a breath, and some of the tension melted from his shoulders.

I bit back a smile.On the right track.I trailed a finger down his bristly cheek. His eyes fluttered closed, and his palm pressed over my hand, trapping the warmth of my skin against his. I smiled wider. My snuggly teddy bear was still in there.

“I love you,” I whispered.

Toby’s head turned on the pillow. His frown faded, but he didn’t break out with a grin like he usually did or whisper a quick “I love you more.” Haunted eyes stared back at me.

My heart was a sad thud in my chest. Was this how helpless Toby had felt when I’d shut him out after losing my job? Had he felt the same hollow ache when all his sweet words and efforts had only soaked into the miserable sponge I’d become?

I hated that I’d played a starring role in our downfall, and even hours ago, I’d still been forgetting my lines. Opening up was hard when almost every experience I’d had growing up was being abandoned. I needed to try harder to break out of old habits.

I dipped my head, my nose grazing his cheek before kissing him on the same bristly spot. “I really do love you,” I reassured him.

Toby’s lips parted with a soft sigh.

I smiled. He liked that. He gusted another breath when my hand petted the cotton T-shirt he’d thrown on before bed. He liked those cautious touches even more. It wasn’t surprising. I’d snuck a peek at the book on love languages Toby’s therapist had given him. He’d highlighted a fluorescent yellow circle around the chapter titledPhysical Touchand scribbled a note that said, “Me.” He was a touchy-feely kind of guy. He’d always liked showing affection. Maybe some gentle encouragement would coax him out of his gloomy shell…

“You’re so handsome,” I told him, popping a kiss on the tip of his nose.

He blinked up at me, a bit like Noah did sometimes, listening, trying to figure me out. Did he need to hear some more sweet words?

“I never imagined you’d get any cuter than when we first met,” I said, tracing my fingers along the edge of his jaw. “And then you grew up and got all these nice angles.” I kissed his chin. “So handsome.”

Toby remained silent but tipped his head back, hinting he wanted another kiss. I teased him by pecking the corner of his mouth. He snorted a grunt of annoyance, so I pecked the other corner, too.

“And you’re a good father,” I whispered. “The best. I appreciate all the ways you help out… All the ways you take care of the house… And…” I bit back a shy smile as I snuck my hand under his T-shirt. There were so many nice bumps and ridges to discover. “I appreciate how much you take care of your body…”

Toby sucked in a breath, his gaze narrowing on me, razor-sharp, but he lay still on the bed. This wasn’t how things used to happen between us. He led, and I buckled up for the ride. Things were different now. My hand explored the hot skin hiding under his T-shirt, with him not reacting at all…until my fingersfollowed the neat trail of hair from his belly button to slip under the waistband of his stripey pajama bottoms.

Toby’s hand shot up, threading possessively in my hair, gently tugging me forward. His mouth hovered a whisper away from mine, but he still wasn’t taking the lead. Not yet.

“Gwen, are you mine?” The doubt in his eyes—his voice—needled into a soft, vulnerable spot under my ribs.

“Always,” I said. “Even if I’m terrible at showing it sometimes.” His uncertainty echoed in my voice when I asked him, “And are you mine?”

“Since the day I saw you and every day since.” His smile was sad. “Even if I’m terrible at showing it sometimes.”

I smiled back. “Looks like we’re stuck with each other then.”

“Like a couple of soggy Weet-Bix left in the bowl.”

Oh, Tobes.There he was. “That’s pretty stuck.” I laughed.

He sighed, almost dreamy, his hand drawing me down until his mouth was impossibly close to mine. “Yeah.”

When our lips finally met, it wasn’t just a kiss. It was a hundred apologies and a promise to keep trying. It was the moment when a year’s worth of chaos melted into nothing except the deep, bone-aching relief of knowing someone who understood your flaws but pulled you closer anyway.

We’d kissed a thousand times before, but not like that. And when I’d had one of those kisses, I couldn’t stop. I needed another… And another…

Toby was the first to pull away, breathless, watching me carefully—socarefully—as his hand slid up my bare thigh to the hem of my oversized shirt. “Can I?”

He wanted to take my shirt off. I wanted him to, but… Suddenly, it felt like I needed the courage of a gladiator facing a pack of hungry lions to get naked.

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