I know it’ll help, so I do it.
“Your eyes because they remind me of Blondie brownies,” I whisper. “Those ants that are stealing someone’s Doritos right now from that bag. And…the sky cause it looks like blue Gatorade.”
He grins. “All elite answers.”
“My hands are still shaking.”
“They can shake. I’ve got them.” He threads his fingers with mine, thumbs sweeping over them. “Say you’re safe.”
“I’m safe,” I say mockingly, but can’t help smiling.
“Say ‘I’m here.’”
“I’m here.”
“Say ‘Lani is going to kill me if I let those sad people ruin this day’.”
“She is,” I laugh. “She really is.”
“Good. Now breathe again.” He leans his forehead against mine for a second. The contact makes my body remember him, remember his safety, remember that this is a person who doesn’t demand, doesn’t push, doesn’t punish me for being normal.
I swallow, and the shame still rises up. “I’m sorry,” I say, quickly. “I’m sorry. My past is always going to ruin things. Whether it’s people bringing it up or me. I’m too—” I can’t say it, but it sits there between us—too much, too messy, too broken.
“Hey.” He squeezes my hand. “That’s not true.”
“It is.” The laugh that sneaks out is ugly. “I’m a walking headline and a tiny grenade, and you keep trying to cradle me like I won’t go off.”
“Lydia,” he says my name so smooth and tenderly. “You are not a grenade. You’re a person who survived the explosion. That’s different.”
My eyes burn. I look away because I don’t want to cry and make him deal with that too. He won’t mind, and that almost makes it worse. I can’t stop myself from being this obvious mess around him.
“I want…” The words get stuck because I don’t know how to ask for something without apologizing for wanting it, knowing I’m going to screw it up. “I want what you keep offering me. I do. All of it, but I feel like I’m ruining everything even when I’m trying to be careful.”
“You’re not ruining anything,” he says. “I’m not here because it’s easy. I’m here because it’syou. I like you. In the big way. In the ‘sit in the grass and look like an idiot’ way. In the ‘steal kisses behind the gym because I can’tnot’ way—”
I stare at him, confused for a moment, before he takes my face in his hand and leans in to kiss me.
He doesn’t do it because he thinks it will fix me. He does it because he wants to share the moment with me, help coax my brain a little away from the panic.
When he pulls back, his nose skims mine. “We take this at your pace, and if anyone tries to pull your past into our present again, I’ll keep you out of the blast radius, okay? And not because I think youneedsaving.” He pauses, keeping his eyes locked on mine. “Because I want you to feel safe and strong enough to save yourself.”
That undoes me in a different way. Not the panicky kind, the kind that feels like gratitude for experiencing something I didn’t think I would ever get to experience.
“What if I mess up?” I ask.
“Then we deal with it.” He brushes his knuckles down my jaw. “Not by pretending it didn’t happen. Not by making it your identity. Just…deal with it. Together, if you want. I can’t promise perfect, but I can promise I don’t scare away easy.”
A shout comes across the lawn—Lani’s voice, obviously.
“IF YOU’RE KISSING, DO IT RIGHT!”
I chuckle.
Bash doesn’t turn toward the noise. He just stares at me and tucks another piece of hair behind my ear. “You want to go back?” he asks. “Or you want to stay here a minute and insult my athletic abilities like you enjoyed doing earlier? Cause I haven’t seen a smile that big on your face in maybe ever—”
I huff a tiny smile. “You mean your lack of it?”
“Whoa. Words hurt.” He squeezes my thigh, then comes to sit next to me.
