Page 56 of Falling Into Forever
“The day your sister died, and the day I left Hope Hollow.” He lifts the hem of his shirt and points to the pole in the center of his boat tattoo. There, hidden in the details, are the two dates I wear around my neck like a noose. “We’ve always been connected, Sayls.”
My eyes burn, and I can’t seem to swallow. Shaking my head, I take tentative steps forward with him griping my hand like I’ll disappear. We walk a while in silence, and I think he’s letting me work through the atomic bomb that keeps trying to light its fuse inside my mind.
He breaks the silence first, bringing this conversation full circle. “I balance out your sour attitude. Sweet and sour. You and me.”
That drags me from my thoughts real quick.
“Are you saying you’re the sweet one?”
He stops and slides a salacious gaze my way. “It depends on what we’re talking about, I suppose.” The heat creeping over my skin continues to spread lower. Why does my body insist on reacting this way? His focus never wavers from mine as he cups my cheek and leans in to whisper in my ear. “From what I remember, you certainly tasted the sweetest.”
Air hisses through my teeth. The sharp inhale expands my lungs while my heart thrashes in my chest. Is this what we’re doing now? He said he’d get me to fall in love for real, and this feels so real that my core spasms at his words.
I’m not going to survive him.
“But if we’re talking about disposition,” he continues, like he didn’t just start a riot in my world, “there’s no contest, Oscar. If we were a trope, you’d be the grump to my sunshine.”
Dante ghosts his nose over the shell of my ear and along my jaw before planting a deceptively gentle kiss against my lips. When he pulls back, I’m panting and struggling to remember what we were talking about.
Yup. I’m screwed. Seven ways to Sunday, screwed.
And he knows it. It shows on every inch of his face—from the crinkles around his cerulean depths to the lazy uptick of his lips.
“But I did like how you reversed that inApril Rain. It’s fun seeing you as a sunshiny heroine.”
Right. Grumpy-sunshine.
“You are not the sunshiny one,” I grumble when my mouth remembers how to form words.
Surprise lights his face. “No? Are you saying you are?”
“I…well.” The scowl that forms on my face says no, not sunshiny. But am I truly the grumpy one in this relationship? Crap. Iamthe grumpy one to all his stupid sunshiny early morning happiness.
“Sassy? Oh, thank God you’re here.”
Peering around Dante’s large frame, I realize we’ve hit The Common.
Hope Hollow is one of three towns that surround Heart Lake, but we have the largest town center, affectionately known as The Common. Standing there with her hands on her hips is Cassie Holly.
Cassie would describe herself as my best friend, but that’s only because she refuses to take no for an answer. She grew up down the road in Chance Lake, but all three towns are so small and close together that they might as well be one community.
“I’m going to kill Mrs. Shelly.” Cassie glares at the tent she came from, and I bite my lip to keep from laughing. Her high school and college sweetheart, who broke her heart when he entered the NFL, is grinning like a fool from inside. “She signed James up to run the Tag ’em and Bag ’em booth with me. With. Me. I cannot take another second of his puppy dog eyes and sickly sweet words. You have to come over to balance it out.”
“Because she’s grumpy?” Dante asks with an impish smirk.
“Well, yeah,” Cassie says with an inflection that actually meansduh.
“I’m not grumpy,” I growl.
Two heads swivel in my direction.
“Okay, fine. Maybe I’m grumpy right now, but it’s early. And he’s making me be social.” I jab my thumb in Dante’s direction.
“That must be it, Oscar. Come on, game time.” Dante drags me closer to Cassie’s booth but keeps us on the periphery, likely knowing the gathering crowd will send me running home. Does he remember that, or is it something he’s learned?
“Is this too close?” he whispers.
“Yeah.” My voice cracks at the single word.
