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He follows me, my name a garbled string of letters and sounds as his movements still. As his breathing slows down. As he pulls out of me and collapses onto his stomach, reaching for me the moment he hits the mattress.
“Hi,” I whisper. I brush the hair away from his forehead and press a kiss to his eyebrow. “Are you alive?”
“No.” He opens one eye, and he looks dead to the world. “You killed me.”
I laugh and snuggle into his side. “How does your head feel?”
“I think I might be reconcussed.” Dallas grins. “If I can survivethat, I’m definitely back to one hundred percent.”
“Good.” I close my eyes and rub my hand down his arm. “When we can move again, we should shower then try to get some sleep. Tomorrow is going to be a long day.”
“It’s going to take me five to seven years to recover. But you’re right. With lunch and then a 4 p.m. kick off, we’re going to be dragging our feet this time tomorrow.”
“I’m glad I get to spend Thanksgiving with you and June. Even if we are exhausted.”
“Me, too. Family is important to me, and I’m excited I get to spend time with yours. I know they can’t know we’re together, but one day they can, and I’m going to make sure there’s no doubt in their minds I’m the right person for you. Because you’re the right person for me.”
Dallas feels like a fairy tale. And when I drift off to sleep, his arms around my body and our hearts beating in unison, I know one day, I could love him wholly, and it would be the easiest thing I’ve ever done.
I’m already on my way there.
FORTY-ONE
DALLAS
“Is something wrong,Maven? You’re walking a little funny.”
If looks could kill, I’d be dead. She glares at me as we ride the elevator up to her dad’s apartment, and I fight back a grin. I love when she gets feisty.
“This is your fault,” she hisses under her breath.
“I told you what was going to happen. You’re the one who didn’t believe me.” The doors open, and I take June’s hand. “Listen to me next time,” I add over my shoulder.
Heat flares behind the sharp blue of her eyes. The apples of her cheeks turn bright red, and when she nearly trips over her feet, I laugh. I walk down the hall slowly, swinging June’s arm back and forth. We’re going to need a minute for Maven to pull it together.
“It’s number twelve,” she calls out. “There’s probably some sort of decoration out front.”
She’s not wrong. I stop us in front of a door that’s covered in three dozen paper turkey hands. I tilt my head to the side and try to read some of the names.
“What is all of this?” I ask.
Her shoulder brushes against mine, and she traces over the scribbled coloring job of one in the top right corner. It looks like it could be one of June’s drawings that I have hanging on the fridge at home. “Decorations from his work.”
“He deals with cancer, right?”
“Pediatric cancer,” Maven says softly, and my heart sinks to the ground. “Spirits can always be down this time of year, especially for kids, so he finds ways to make people happy. Turkey hands. Paper snowflakes. There’s probably a box of all the past mementos in the storage closet. He knows it’s not the most profound thing in the world, but sometimes a distraction is nice.” She looks down at June, and her eyes shimmer with tears. “I’ve only been around JB for four months, and I feel like she has a part of my soul. Like she’s mine. I can’t imagine what that pain would be like if something happened to her.”
She is yours,I think.
This thought has been coming to me more and more frequently these days when I see the two of them together. When I watch the patience Maven has and her ability to turn situations into teachable moments, I know with absolute certainty she would be the world’s best mom.
June got sick when I was on the road last week. She had a fever and kept vomiting. I was five seconds away from buying the first plane ticket home, but Maven told me she had it handled.
And she did.
Not once did she complain about losing any sleep or the amount of laundry she had to fold. It was no big deal, a small bump in the road over a long stretch of smooth highway.
“I see where you get it from,” I say.
