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“I’m not,” she said, refreshingly honest like always. “Not even close. I, too, have learned that being with someone like you isn’t a bad thing. I’ve been alone for so long that I didn’t really know what this”—she gestured between them—“would feel like.”
His grip on her knee flexed. “What does it feel like for you?”
“Like I’m standing on the edge of a really high cliff, one where I can’t even see the bottom, and I’m taking a deep breath. The air is so clean, so crisp, and it fills my lungs. I get a little lightheaded, and I know I’m going to fall… But I can’t tell if I’m going to fall back onto safe land, or down to the unknown abyss.”
He swallowed hard. She’d pretty much explained how he felt about her to a T. “Which one am I—the cliff, or the ground behind you?”
“I don’t know,” she admitted. “Both options feel scary, but if I could figure out which one you were, I think I’d let myself fall that way.”
His heart beat against his ribs, and all he could think was: Do it. Fall. I’ll catch you, and I’ll never let go. But that wasn’t fair to her. “Shel…”
“Shh.” She leaned forward, touching her finger to his mouth. “You don’t have to say anything.”
There was so much he wanted to say, though.
He cupped her face, staring into her eyes so deeply he felt like he might be lost in them forever, and he didn’t really give a damn. He enjoyed everything about her, and there was no shame in that. Her sense of humor. Her laugh. Her smile. The way she bit her lip when she was worried. The way she made him feel. The way he made her feel.
He loved everything about Sh—
Shit. Fuck. Damn.
Had he just used that four-letter word in the same sentence with a woman’s name? Was he falling in love with Shelby Jefferson?
No. He couldn’t be. Not even he was that stupid. There could be no excuse for doing the one thing he’d promised not to do. He’d sworn he wouldn’t fall for her, and he damn well wouldn’t. He just liked her a lot.
That was all.
Yeah. Keep telling yourself that, buddy.
He pulled back abruptly, leaving her hanging and decidedly un-kissed. “I have to go.” He needed to separate himself from her for the night, take a deep breath, and remind himself to keep his fool heart closed to anything warm, soft, or tender. She didn’t want his heart, or him, and he’d best remember that before it was too late and he ruined everything.
“Are you okay?” she asked, her forehead wrinkling.
“Yeah, I just forgot something.” Like my damn common sense. He picked up his jacket and bent for his shoes. “I’ll talk to you tomorrow, okay?”
And then he ran like hell.
Chapter Sixteen
They walked down the road together, holding hands, and the streetlights flickered overhead. The air was damp with recent rain, and the macadam shone in the moonlight. Their feet splashed in the puddles with each step they took, and he tightened his grip on her hand. After his weird exit last night, she hadn’t been sure what to expect from him today, but he seemed normal, for the most part. She still didn’t know what had spooked him.
One second he’d been there, about to kiss her, and the next…
He’d been gone.
“I didn’t like the end of that movie,” he said, breaking the comfortable silence.
“Why not?” she asked, glancing up at him. The moonlight played with his scruff and his hard jaw, making him look harder than normal. Or maybe that was her overactive imagination playing tricks on her again. “What was wrong with it?”
They’d seen a drama. It had been a movie about a couple who met on a train, didn’t see each other after their breakup, and then ran into each other years later. The man, Harry, had since been married, and they’d had an affair, but in the end, the man stayed with his wife while the heroine, Jessica, faded away into nothing. It had been an emotional, well-acted, and well-written movie.
It was up for a few Oscars and everything.
“He loved Jessica.” He stared straight ahead. “Love like that only happens once. He might have married Marie, but his heart belonged to Jessica. It always did. They were meant to be.”
She took a deep breath, staring at him in surprise. Was he a closet romantic who believed in soul mates? “But he had kids with Marie, and was happy.”
“He might have thought he was happy, but he wasn’t. He was alive, but he wasn’t living.” He pulled her to a stop, dragging her into an alley and into the shadows. He backed her against the wall, and she gasped at the contrast of the cool, sharp edges of the brick and his hard, warm chest. “There’s a difference, you know.”
