Page 25 of Sin Bins and Second Chances
I didn’t fight for her back then, but I sure as hell would now. She was never getting away from me again. At the first opportunity, I’d have a ring on her finger, my last name as hers, and a baby in her belly. I didn’t even care what order it happened; I just wanted it all.
With a shaky breath, I step forward. Then she does thesame.
Fucking keep it together, man!I shout at myself.
My hand reaches out for her. “Let’s go for a walk.”
It’s the only thing I can think to do, because by being outside, I know we risk being seen. I’m hoping that will keep me from kissing her again. She needs to make the first move time.
Her familiar scent wraps around me as she warily takes my hand. Warm and sweet, like cinnamon rolls on a crisp autumn morning. I feel like a wimp, the way her scent steadies me and grounds me. There must be something wrong with me. I prefer to take control, but at this moment, she has all of it. I need her to, so I don’t.
We walk in silence. There were many times we’d taken walks on this property while in school. Memories of sneaking out into denser areas of the ranch to make-out fill my mind and I chuckle.
“What’s so funny?” Daisy asks.
“I was thinking about all the times we’ve been out here. Walking around like this. Running around.”
She laughs. “Yeah.”
We stroll at a leisurely pace. I should probably say something, but words escape me. I simplyenjoy being near her and I know I can’t tell her, not yet.
The cooler breeze picks up, bringing a chill to the air. Daisy shivers next to me and I curse myself. I should’ve thought to grab her a jacket or something.
“Let’s head back. You can change and then we’ll head over to your grandparents.”
“Okay.” She releases my hand and leads the way.
That wasn’t my intention. For her to let go. Do I grab her hand? The decision is made for me when she picks up her pace and takes the steps two at a time. She leaves the front door open for me, better than slamming it in my face.
Fuck, I’m already screwing this up.
I can hear her mumble as she takes the steps. I’m confident that she’s cursing my name as she grumbles her way upstairs to her room. This feels weird, but I don’t know what I’m doing. I don’t date. I haven’t put in any effort since her.
I walk into the living room. It feels like I’m stepping back in time as I take everything in. The same assortment of art and family photos hang on the old wood-paneled walls. A few photos andknickknacks decorate the mantle. My eyes hesitate over the large family photo of Daisy with her parents.
Instantly I know there isn’t a more recent photo in the room, and that fact made me sad. Daisy looked so young and carefree. The smiles reached the eyes of all three of them in this one. I remember when this photo was taken. I’d shown up shortly after to take her to the movies that night. A new dystopian teen movie had just come out, and she said she needed to see it.
Of course I took her to see it. Anything she needed. Anything she wanted. I wanted to be the one who provided for her. Needed to be the one—on some instinctual level, I never quite understood until recently.
Daisy Miles was always meant to be mine.
I should’ve been there for her. She ended things, but I still cared back then. Fuck, even her cousin, Andrew, should’ve let me know what was going on. If I knew her dad was sick then, I would’ve helped however I could. The idea of her meeting someone and then him leaving her right when she needed someone only pissed me off even more. Didn’t she know she didn’t need to do it allalone? I would’ve been there for her, at least as her friend. I can’t even imagine how her mom felt.
Watching Daisy’s parents together, it was just like watching her grandparents, and Andrew’s parents. It was this beautiful, deep love. The way they all loved and cared for one another was visible. The way they laughed and genuinely enjoyed the other’s company. It was something out of this world.
To see that growing up and then watch your father die, I can only imagine what Daisy felt about losing her father and watching her mother lose her husband. It would be heartbreaking. It would be a reason to push someone away. Part of me wondered if that’s why she seems hesitant.
“Okay, I’m changed.” Daisy spoke behind me.
I turned around and slowly take in her outfit. This isn’t much better than the little dresses she wore. Skin tight leggings and a large sweater that hangs off one of her shoulders.
“Can I drive the golf cart?” I tease.
She laughs. “Maybe if you’re a good boy, I’ll let you drive it back.” She winks and turns to head towards the door.
Fuck.
As she turns around, I see the peek of atattoo on the back of her shoulder. “When did you get a tattoo? What is it?” I never pictured her with one. She showed no desire to get one when we were younger, not that people don’t change.
