Millie’s eyes pinch at the corners like she’s hurting. “I didn’t really explain.”
I keep shaking my head. “You did. You said enough.”Please don’t say it again. I know you don’t want me.
Now she’s shaking her head. “No. I didn’t. You don’t understand—”
“I do.”
She holds up a hand, looking irritated. “Youdon’t.My family—” She stops. Closes her mouth and presses her lips together. “I have to think about my family.”
From where I sit, all she does is think about her family. Who thinks about her? I want to ask, but bite back the question.
“The four of us are all I can deal with right now.”
So, no room for me.
I want to argue that I could help her deal. I’d be good at it. She could lean on me. I could be her brick wall.
You sound like a fuckingcoño.
I grind my unspoken promises between my teeth. Swallow them down.
Instead, I apologize for my real regret. “I never meant to scare you.”
Her eyes flash, a little of that ire I’ve seen sparking in them. “You didn’t scare me.”
You ran.
I don’t say it aloud, but maybe she reads it in my face because she looks away, eyes going to the game that I’m sure neither one of us has even seen one play of.
“You don’t scare me.”
She could have said it like a challenge. The way she challenged my assumption that she was a nurse. The way she challenged my stupid cock-up about her lingerie. But she doesn’t say it like that.
Her voice is feather soft.
If I don’t scare her, then maybe she feels safe around me. Without even thinking, I sit up straighter. Not just to shed the shame I’ve carried all week, but to be her safety.
Her protector.
I don’t take my eyes off her profile, so when the corner of her mouth curls up in a smile—showing up like a friend I never thought I’d see again—I don’t miss it.
“Do I scareyou?”she asks.
My laughter feels like a presidential pardon. I lean my head back and laugh clouds of relief into the cold air.
She turns to me, grinning, but waiting for the answer.
“Honestly?” I say when I can speak. “You scare the hell out of me.”
Her eyes light up like this is the best news she’s had in years. “Good!” she says, laughing too.
A moment later, the sound of Emmett and Mattie arguing makes her turn to track their approach. But she looks back at me, quick and nervous.
“So, are we good?” she asks, then bites the corner of her mouth. The mouth I want to kiss now more than ever.
I bite the corner of my lip, mirroring her. Remembering the moment I took her lip between my teeth. Remembering the moment she bit back. Remembering everything that was unsaid but so clearly spoken in those moments. But I get it. I can’t have her. And that sucks. But she doesn’t hate me. In fact, I’m pretty sure she likes me.
And that’s fucking fantastic.
