Page 65 of Silver Linings
“That’s not embarrassing, Silver. That’s beautiful.”
She fidgets, trying to crawl out of her skin at the thought of someone, anyone, perceiving her. But I’ve always seen her—I always will.
“Did we just…trauma bond?” she asks, clearly trying to lighten the mood.
I laugh. “I think we did, Sunshine.”
“I’m sorry about your brother, Hendrix.”
“I’m sorry about your parents.”
She shrugs as if it’s nothing, but it’s not. I have the overwhelming urge to lean forward and offer her any sort of comfort I can, to selfishly take comfort I know only she can provide.
I bridge the minuscule gap between us, giving her enough time to pull away if she chooses, and press my lips to hers.
It’s soft and exploring, but in seconds, it deepens to something headier. My body is begging me to take more, but my brain is telling me to chill out, to not take too much too soon. Silver is used to men who are just around for an evening, and I won’t be that to her. So, I pull back, even though it just about kills me.
I don’t ask her what this is or what we are to each other. We can take our time to figure that out. I just know I want to be hers.
I already am, even if she’s not there yet.
She protests once I’ve pulled away, but she immediately lets out a huge yawn. When I look at the clock, I see we’ve crept past three in the morning.
We settle further into bed with the intention to sleep when Silver lets out a soft, sleepy admission. “I think I really like you.”
The confession drops on my head like an anvil but lifts my heavy heart just enough that maybe I can finally get some sleep. “I really like you too, Sunshine.”
When I fall asleep, it’s with her hand still tucked into mine.
eighteen
. . .
I wakeafter five in the morning to Silver wrapped around my body like a koala bear. It’s the best sleep I’ve gotten in years.
It’s creeping closer to dawn, and I need to get up and out of her apartment before the rest of the building wakes and someone rats me out to Mr. Fairbanks. But as I look over at her, mouth slightly parted, hair mussed from sleep, her lashes fanning against the tops of her cheeks, pulling myself out of her warm bed will be harder than pulling a semi-truck with my bare hands.
In the still-quiet silence of the morning, with only muffled city sounds distant in the background, I marvel at the past twenty-four hours as Silver’s soft breaths puff against my bare chest.
I almost couldn’t believe it—how easy it was to look into her soft eyes, so open and willing to carry my burdens—and recount the horrors of that day. After Maddox died, Mom quietly begged me to talk to a grief counselor, but I didn’t see the point in rehashing the worst day of my life to a sympathetic stranger when it wouldn’t change anything. It wasn’t going to bring him back, and it wouldn’t make me feel any better.
Except it had—felt better—when I told Silver. An inexpressible weight had lifted off my chest as I told her, and she looked at me with understanding, not pity. She too had lost someone pivotal to her. Two people. She understood loss on a level that was different from mine, but that still changed the way she moved through the world.
Silver’s eyes open slowly, bleary and unsure, her body stiffening slightly against mine, as if waking up next to someone is a foreign concept for her. She slowly looks down to where her body is plastered to mine, covers shucked down around our waists, and slowly slides her gaze upward, taking in every detail. When her gaze settles on my face, her body loosens, and a sleepy smile graces her full mouth. A mouth I’m aching to taste again.
“Good morning.” She lets out the cutest yawn as she averts her eyes and removes her wrapped limbs from my body with an inaudiblesorry.
Without her weight blanketing me, everything is suddenly much colder. I want to beg her to come back and cling to me again, press the softness of her body against the rigid planes of mine, but I don’t want to crowd her while she processes whatever is currently making her mind race.
“Morning.”
She looks over at me, and she looks…shy. It’s a look certain to end me completely, a softer side of her I don’t think anyone but me has ever seen.
“How are you feeling?” I ask at the same time as she says, “Did you sleep well?”
We both huff out a laugh as she gestures for me to go first.
“I slept fine after…well, you know.” My ears flame with humiliation.
