Page 30 of Trusting Skulls

I answer, watching my sister stop on her way to the house to talk to a bunny that just hopped on the path. It makes me happy. Willow is living in her very own fairytale.

“Hello.”

“Hi. It’s me,” Lexie says quietly.

Instantly, I feel better. I fall back on the grass and stare at the blue sky above. “I recognize your voice, Lex.”

“You’re home?”

“Yeah. Jackson and Willow picked me up this morning.”

My eyes fall closed, and I focus on the soft sounds of her breath. So close yet so far. Excitement pumps through my veins, because this is the beginning. For months I’ve focused on myself. I’ve faced demons I never thought I’d be able to survive. It’s given me the confidence that I can withstand any storm that comes our way. She deserves no less.

Now, it’s her turn to heal.

“I’m glad you’re back,” she admits.

I take in the inflection of her voice. Now that the alcohol is out of my system, my senses are sharper. She’s nervous. That is something new. She usually takes a monotone stance with me.

It’s exhilarating. It’s just the type of energy we need to make a spark. A spark to ignite the fire that will fuse us together.

I’m going to weld our souls into one.

“I opened the hair pin you carved. It’s beautiful. Thank you.”

I inhale deeply. The smell of the river wraps around me in this moment, cementing it in my mind forever. My hands twitch at the image she’s conjured. In my mind, her copper hair is piled messily on her head, held by something I created with myvery hands. The soft tendrils tickle the back of her neck. I’m so jealous of them.

“Are you wearing it now?” I ask, my hand slowly pushing against the ache in my cock when she laughs. Her hesitation pulls at my heart strings. A yes answer would be a confession. Why? Because she never wears her hair up. It makes her uncomfortable. I’ve put it up myself in an attempt to keep her hair clean when she was getting sick. She always took it out immediately after.

“Yes.”

She says it so quietly it’s barely a whisper, but the groan that leaves my throat is loud.

I’m not sure what she thinks about it. The silence on the other end could indicate a million things, but I’m no longer holding back my attraction for her anymore.

It’s something I’ve talked to my therapist about. He asked me if I had talked to Lexie about how deep my feelings ran for her. That I wanted to be more than friends. My response was simple. No. I didn’t want her to think I wanted her for the same things every other man wanted.

What he told me changed my whole outlook on our potential relationship.

“You don’t want the same thing. They want one moment of temporary self-gratification. You want endless moments of mutual fulfillment.”

“Will you wear it up for me?”

Her breath hitches, and I hear her drop the phone. I’ve flustered her. Hopefully in a good way. Again, a yes would be admission. A no … a lie.

“Maybe.”

I’ve never grabbed onto a possibility so fast in my entire life.

“Did you read my letter?” she asks, failing to hide the slight tremble in her voice. I sense a new vulnerability within her, but one that’s necessary for us to move forward.

“I did.”

No sound. She’s holding her breath. Her letter was a question. She’s anxious for my answer.

Jesse will never let her call me again if she passes out, so I give her the oxygen she so desperately needs.

“I want both. I want everything. Your actions, your thoughts, your feelings … you. I want you, Lexie.”

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