Page 30 of The Best Kind of Forever
Has she been crying?
She bites down on her lip, not pulling away until it’s a shade darker. “I’m okay,” she squeaks unconvincingly, opening the door wider so I can come in.
I take in the sight of a half-eaten carton of ice cream on her coffee table and a black-and-white cat cantering over to me. Ice cream is a code red. At least, it is in the Hollings household. Faye only breaks out the hard stuff when she’s really hurting inside, like when her spineless ex-boyfriend broke up with her over text. I may or may not have gone over to his house that night and broken his nose.
“You’re scaring me, Stacks.”
“I’m sorry.”
There it is. Those two words send a grenade the size of Texas spiraling into my chest. She’s made up her mind. This will probably be the last time I see her, speak with her.
But then she continues talking.
“For scaring you,” she clarifies, walking over to the couch and patting the spot next to her.
Oh?
I follow her like a puppy with its tail between its legs. I wait to let her speak, but it feels like she’s taking an eternity to get the words out.
She finally sips in a full breath.
“I’m sorry I haven’t texted you all week. I wanted to—I did. I’ve just been…nervous about starting something with you.” She fidgets with the hem of her tank top. Her fingernails are short and slightly bloody, like she’s been chewing them to the quick.
“I don’t want you to feel pressured to do anything,” I immediately blurt out.
“I know.”
“Okay.”
“I wanted to tell you that…” She trails off, and even though the gloss over her eyes is hardly noticeable, it still sends a sucker punch to my gut.
“You don’t have to—”
“I want to give this thing between us a chance.”
Come again? Did she just say what I think she said?
“A-are you sure?” I ask her, failing to camouflage the confusion blending into my words.
She nods her head, and there’s a warmth tucked away in the saffron flecks of her eyes. God, she’s so beautiful. I want to spend lazy afternoons counting the freckles on her face, then see if she has them anywhere else on her body.
“I’m—that’s great.”
Ever since we shared that dance together, things have been becoming more and more real. This is the first time I’m not thinking about my hockey career or my reputation. All that exists in this moment is me and her.
I can tell my words don’t seem to assuage her fear, so I grab her hand, squeezing her palm and breezing my thumb over the back of her knuckles. She lets out a small gasp from the contact but doesn’t pull away. Those kissable lips of hers jack up into a small smile—a smile that I’ve missed seeing for the past week.
Aeris is heartbreakingly appetizing in all the right ways, like an addiction in the making. I’m starving for a single taste of her—whatever she’s willing to give me, even if that means I’ll be on my knees for whoever knows how long.
“I thought you were gonna break it off.” I chuckle awkwardly, already starting to feel heat rise in my cheeks.
“Oh, uh, no. Sorry if it sounded that way.”
“You never have to apologize for what you’re feeling. Ever,” I whisper, moving my hand to caress her cheek, wiping away the leftover water lingering beneath her eye. “I want you to feel like you can tell me anything, okay? I’m here for you. Whatever you need. I’m not planning on going anywhere.”
“Thank you, Hayes. I-I want to be able to open up to you; I’ve just been hurt in the past.”
She’s been hurt in the past? Look, I have no idea what dickmuppet broke her heart, but if I find him, I have no problem giving him a one-way ticket to the ICU. Aeris isn’t even technically mine, but I already feel this possessiveness over her that scares me.
