Page 64 of Safe With Me
Dipping at his knees, he shifted his arm and tugged me over his shoulder, my surprised laugh morphing into a squeal. He spun toward the hall and my bedroom. “Come on, sugar. Let’s go create something unique and pretty.”
I woke to familiar darkness, shadows lightened by streetlights peeking through the blinds. The solid warmth of a hard chest against my back was less familiar, just like the heavy arm thrown over my waist. I’d never spent the night with any of the local men I’d dallied with, except Tick, and that had been more of a convenience than a desire to sleep close to him. Sleeping with Tate was different, addictive, as I’d learned over the last few nights.
He shifted, pressing his face to my neck. “Hannah.”
His sleepy murmur rumbled through me, the raw emotion in the way he said my name pulling at me. A heavy sigh full of contentment moved his body.
While sexual awareness always hummed between us, ever since that first night on my couch, the warmth of him next to me like this was different. In the curve of his body, I was sheltered,safe, able to relax into him like I hadn’t with anyone else. Maybe because we’d had that foundation of friendship. He’d worked to repair the damage he’d done there.
I trusted him again.
He stirred, fingers flexing on my hip. Smiling, I wriggled deeper into his embrace, and with a huff of a chuckle, he tightened his arm, pulling me closer.
I traced a design on the back of his wrist. Maybe a heart, but I’d never tell. “I’m glad you’re here.”
“Me, too.” Sleep husked drawl. “I haven’t been home in a long time.”
He must be dreaming. I nudged my elbow into his belly. “You slept at your place Friday night.”
“That’s not home. Haven’t had one since Daddy went.” He was still drowsy, but sounded a little more alert. “I’m at home with you.”
I flushed warm all over. Could anything be sweeter than that?
Maybe an “I love you,” but we’d agreed we didn’t want that. Of course, maybe I loved him a little. He’d been my good friend for a while, and I loved my friends – Sara almost as much as I loved my sisters. I shied a little – but I could be honest in the dark, with Tate pressed close, holding me like I was something infinitely valuable. My sister was doing awful things, but I still loved her.
My mama had been neglectful – and sometimes downright mean as she played favorites – but I still loved her.
Daddy had . . . prioritized, I guess was the word. He’d prioritized his needs, his well-being, over ours. And I still loved him.
So if I could love my friends and love people who hurt me . . . well, I could love Tate just a little.
“Hannah?” Sleep still husked his voice, but he was a little more awake.
“Hmm?” I traced another design on his wrist.
He shifted to prop on his elbow. A gentle hand turned me so I lay on my back. Even in the dim room, I could make out his serious expression, the tight line of his mouth. “I’ve told you I’m sorry–”
“Tate.” I curved my palm around his bare shoulder, skin warm against mine, and rubbed my thumb over the muscle there. “You don’t have to–”
“Shhh.” He pressed his finger to my lower lip, and I swallowed the urge to lick him, taste him. I wanted him, all the time, wanted to be filled with the taste and touch and smell of him. The sound of him. I wanted all of him. Yes, I was inlikewith Tate Edwards. “Listen, I know you’ve forgiven me. I know I don’t deserve that. Want you to know . . . I’ll be steady for you. I watched Daddy and I know how. I’ll be that for you.”
The promise nestled in the simple words stole my breath. And I believed him. I trusted him to choose me, to care for me.
With my throat aching, I wished I could round that out toto love me, but I understood. He’d said he’d watched his daddy, and that also meant he’d watched Mr. Darby fall apart after Mrs. Ashley died. Sometimes a hurt was too big to risk again.
“I believe you.” Sliding my hand to his nape, so the crisp hair there tickled my fingertips, I drew his mouth down to whisper against his lips. “Thank you.”
He chuckled, the sound vibrating into my mouth, all the way through me. “So fucking polite.”
A giggle bubbled up from my chest, easing the aching pressure in my throat, like the cool fizz of ginger ale on a warm day. He made me feel like that – young and free and fizzy and warm.
The future opened up before me, nights like this in my bed, days bookended by us being together for breakfast and supper,his easy touch and pure emotions. I would take this and value it. I’d value him.
And us.
Even if he never loved me, just a little.
Chapter Eighteen
