Page 66 of The Last Kind of Kiss
I know exactly what she means.
“If it’s any consolation, I think what you did is amazing. You gave up your teenage years to help bear some of the responsibility. I know middle-aged men who won’t even lift a finger to help their wives with the dishes.”
“It really wasn’t a sacrifice. I would’ve done anything for my mom. I still would,” Lila confesses, her gaze strolling along the dashboard to evade my stare, and I wish I could exorcise every last bit of her worry.
I don’t get too close, although I’d give up my entire fortune—and my left leg—to hold her right now. “You know, after my first year with the Reapers, I earned enough money to buy a house for my parents. I wanted to give back to them for all their support. God, they spent endless hours Ubering me to hockey practice. They spent their paychecks covering my gear and travel expenses. They basically dedicated their whole lives to seeing me live out my dream.”
She would never admit it, but this battle-scarred common ground that we’ve both found ourselves on feels like an unconventional home.
“I guess family’s important to the both of us.”
“Yeah, it is.”
Suddenly, sitting a console away from each other, the nerves make one last guest appearance, and my mouth goes as dry as a desert badlands. Family is what I crave, and whether Lila knows it or not, she…she’s the closest thing I have to family out here in Riverside.
“I know you were probably just going to go home after this, but would you maybe want to—you don’t have to, it’s totally fine if you’re tired and just want to go to sleep—but would you want to…”
Her patience wanes. “Bristol, I’ll pass out if you don’t get to the point sooner.”
“Cometomyplaceandeatdinner?” I blurt out.
Lila blinks at me in surprise, totally at a loss for words—or maybe she’s trying to find the politest way to turn me down because I look like I’m one strained heartbeat away from entering cardiac arrest.
She takes a second to contemplate my offer, but finally, I receive a nonchalant, “Sure.”
OH, THANK GOD.
I don’t think I’ve stopped smiling. “That’s great! Great. Awesome. Are you hungry?”
“Yeah, actually,” she replies, strapping her seat belt across her body and wiggling into the ultimate comfort position.
I reach for my own seatbelt when my stomach breaks the silence with a loud, hungry growl that seems to go on forever before pitching into a lower whine.
“But probably not as much as you are,” she quips.
I stick the key in the ignition and turn it, waiting for the car to rumble to life and the dashboard lights to blink into existence. “In my defense, the yogurt cup I had earlier seemed filling enough.”
Lila gives me a once-over, which I definitelyshouldn’tlike as much as I do. “Yogurt cup? You’re huge. Shouldn’t you be drinking raw eggs and eating three steaks or something?”
“That sounds disgusting.”
She pins her eyes to my grumbling belly. “Well, yourstomachsounds like it’s harboring a pissed-off grizzly bear.”
I roll my eyes, but it doesn’t cancel out the smile taking shape on my lips. “Maybe I’ll eatyoubefore we get home.”
“Oh, Bristol. If you wanted to eat me, you should’ve just asked.”
22
HOPE IS A DANGEROUS THING
LILA
If you told me thattheBristol Brenner was nervous around me, I wouldn’t believe it. The Bristol I know would be cracking jokes or disguising some discreetly placed touches. But nope, none of that. Just good ol’ awkward silence.
“Are you sure I can’t help with anything?” I ask, swinging my legs against the edge of the countertop and glancing at the chunks of chicken swimming in honey sauce.
“Nope. Just continue sitting there and looking pretty,” Bristol says, stirring his aromatic creation with that dexterous hand of his—one that spent hours ravaging me in the Reapers’ locker room last night.
