The words felt blunt. Honest, but blunt.
"I liked some of them. I cared about some of them." I shrugged. "But when I pictured my future, they weren't in it." For some reason, that answer felt bigger than all the others. "What about you?"
A faint smile touched his mouth. "I'm twenty-one."
"That's not an answer."
"No, but it's a pretty good excuse."
I laughed.
Then his smile slipped slightly. "I dated, but I always knew how it would end."
"You never expected anybody to stick around."
His gaze lifted to mine. "Something like that."
Impulsively, I reached out and brushed a loose strand of hair away from his forehead. My hand lingered briefly near his temple. All I could think about was how much I liked him.
Kieran drew a slow breath and leaned toward me slightly. The movement was small enough that I might have missed it if I'd been looking anywhere else.
A smile tugged at the corner of my mouth as I pushed to my feet. A second later, Kieran stood too.
The space between us seemed to disappear of its own accord.
My hand settled against the side of his face. His fingers curled around my forearm before sliding up to my shoulder, holding on.
After everything that had happened over the last few days, the anticipation felt almost as intimate as the kiss we were about to have.
When our mouths finally met, it felt less like starting something new and more like finding our way back to something we'd almost lost.
FOURTEEN
KIERAN
The first thing I became aware of was warmth.
The second was that the warmth wasn't coming from a blanket.
For a moment, I remained exactly where I was, suspended somewhere between sleep and wakefulness while my brain struggled to catch up with reality. Then memory arrived all at once.
The Christmas lights.
The baking disaster.
The cookies that should never be shown to professional bakers.
Thane. A smile tugged at my mouth.
I was lying on my side with Thane's arm draped across my waist. At some point during the night, I'd apparently decided personal space was optional because I was practically curled against him. The strange part was that instead of feeling embarrassed, I felt comfortable.
Safe.
Comfort wasn't something I'd spent much of my life associating with other people. Comfortable couches, maybe. Comfortable sweatshirts. Comfortable routines. People were different.
People usually leave. I pushed the thought away before it could settle. This wasn't the time for old ghosts.
Morning light filtered through the gaps in the curtains, painting pale gold stripes across the room. Beyond the windows, Seattle was beginning to wake up, but inside the condo, everything remained quiet. Peaceful.
