Page 38 of Safe With Me
“I’m not perfect. We both know that, and I can’t pretend to be.” He took a step closer, so I caught a whiff of soap and the hint of leather and diesel that always clung to him. “But I promise you I will not fuck up and deliberately hurt you again.”
“Deliberately.”
A small twinkle lit in his eyes. He reached out a hand to rub his thumb over my jaw. Tiny little fireworks scattered over my nerve endings. “I’m sure I’ll do something stupid.”
“Is this you trying to sell the idea?” I leaned into the teasing like a favorite warm jacket.
The corner of his lips, where he had the slightest scar from an old football injury, twitched. “Letting you know you might be getting a lemon.”
The byplay felt sonormal, and yet last night I’d been on a first date – ten minutes of one, anyway – trying to move on from him. The ease of this frightened me.
My life hadn’t held a lot of normal or easy lately. I wasn’t sure about the trust fall with life or him.
“Hey.” He brushed a stray lock behind my ear. “Everything’s going to work out.”
“You don’t know that.” With a light touch, I knocked his hand away. His life hadn’t been spinning out of control for days.
He lowered his head, a hint of mint rushing over my ear as he murmured, “I’ll make it okay.”
My disbelieving snort stung my nose. I clapped a hand over my mouth.
He laughed, a low, rough sound, but didn’t step away. “Sounded good in theory.”
I dared to rest my forehead on his chest, just beneath his shoulder. His arms closed about me.
Eyes squeezed shut, I gave in, my cravings overriding my fear, and let him be my friend.
The sky darkened to dusky purple, streetlights casting too-bright pools of light on Gracie’s cul-de-sac as I pulled into her driveway of their little box of a home, a three-bedroom-two-bath like most others in the newish subdivision. She and Andy had moved in a couple of years ago, and we’d all been excited about their first home purchase. Elizabeth and I helped her pick out decor, scouring home stores in Moultrie and Thomasville.
I’d enjoyed pretending I was Mrs. Lenora, home decorator extraordinaire.
Last year, my first cedar-and-floral wreath had adorned Gracie’s door from Thanksgiving until New Year’s.
Elizabeth’s BMW waited in the drive, blocking Andy’s path to the garage, but with it being harvest season, he would be late at the gin. We’d most likely be long gone before he made it home. I pulled to the side of the driveway and killed the engine, gripping and regripping the steering wheel. Lord, this had been my idea. What had I been thinking, anyway?
I forced myself out of the driver’s seat and walked across the driveway and into the garage to the kitchen door. Wiping my damp hands on my jeans, I paused on the top step, the glass panes providing a clear view into Gracie’s neat, clean kitchen. Elizabeth sat at the bar, back to the door, a glass of white wine at her elbow.
She looked around when I opened the door. Something like discomfort flickered over her face, replaced by snapping anger when she glowered at Gracie. “You didn’t say she was coming.”
Propped against the range, Gracie fixed her with a non-nonsense look over a sip of what I was sure was apple juice. “We’re sisters.”
Elizabeth slanted a narrow, sullen glare over her shoulder at me. “I don’t want to be around her.”
Well, sweetheart, that was mutual. I pinned my lips shut.
Gracie lifted a brow.
If anything, Elizabeth’s scowl turned darker. “Are you choosing her over me?”
“I have two sisters, and I love you both.” Gracie shrugged, an easy, graceful movement. “There’s no choosing. Why don’t you want to be around Hannah?”
Elizabeth turned her face away, taking a long, slow sip of wine. Her fingers trembled about the stem, a visible little tremor.
Pushing off the range, Gracie opened the refrigerator and began setting out small containers of delicacies from Shay’s – chicken salad with grapes, pimiento cheese, handmade house crackers. “Elizabeth, you know I’m not going to play with you.”
Ignoring Elizabeth’s silence, Gracie pulled down a small stack of plates and laid out four forks. She lifted the bottle of wine in my direction, and I shook my head. She filled a glass with chilled water and passed it to me before fixing her gaze on Elizabeth’s averted face.
“You feel guilty because of how you’ve treated her.”
