He shudders, and I run my hand through his hair, pulling himtighter against me, saying nonsense, words that I know aren’t helpful, but are the only words I have to offer.
I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.
My own tears form, my vision blurring, and after a long moment, he quiets, and our bodies shift. Jacob straightens, but he doesn’t move away. Instead, his hand lifts, coming to my chin, his thumb making a gentle arc across my cheek.
“Thank you,” he says, and I shake my head.
“There’s nothing to thank me for.”
“But there is.”
I’m about to protest again, but his thumb skates across my cheek once more, and I fall silent. We watch each other, my arms still around his body, his other hand at the small of my back. We don’t move an inch—neither of us breaking away or moving closer to each other.
We stay exactly as we are. Even when a loud cheer sounds from the house, when a bracing burst of wind travels over my skin.
Later, perhaps, I’ll wonder why the cold didn’t register. But now, in this moment, all I feel is warmth.
16
We trudge back to the inn quietly, both of us emotionally depleted. And as we enter the lobby, I can picture how the next few minutes are going to go.
We’ll both offer awkward goodbyes, unsure what to say now that we’re in the middle of a vulnerability hangover. We’ll wake up tomorrow as if today never happened, as if we didn’t just cry in each other’s arms.
We’ll bicker less, uneasy allies, but I don’t want that to happen.
I want more.
We reach the foot of the stairs, my hand on the banister, but before we take the first step, I turn to Jacob.
“Should we go to the Hart?” I ask.
He blinks. “The Hart?”
“It’s the pub. The one everyone was going to after?”
He looks up the flight of stairs, then back at me. “Is that what you want to do?”
“I—” I don’t know. I don’t actually care about going to this pub in particular. I don’t really feel like being around too many people,but I want an excuse to talk to Jacob more, to be around him. “I do,” I say.
The corners of his mouth twitch. “Okay,” he says softly, and my stomach flips. The way he’s looking at me, it’s as if he can see right through me. As if he can read my mind.
“I’ll just go change,” he says, gesturing to his kilt, and my mouth opens before I can think better of it.
“Don’t,” I say.
His brows fly up. “Don’t?”
“Uh, don’t…you think we should head over there now?” Not much of a save, but it’s the best I can manage at the moment. “Since we ducked out of the reception early, we should probably go there now so we can, uh, pay our respects.”
For some reason, Jacob’s eyes grow dull at my explanation, the light, teasing glint disappearing. “Oh,” he says. “Okay.”
He takes a step back, but I reach out, placing my hand on his arm.
“Actually, go change. If you want. I’m going to run up and check on Dad.” We’ve left him alone here all day, and for the first time, I feel this urge to see him. To make sure he’s okay. Maybe he could even come with us, even for a short while, just to take a break from his hotel room.
Jacob stares at me, his confusion clear, but he just nods, saying he’ll meet me back down here in ten.
I hurry up to my dad’s room. I can’t blame Jacob for being confused. I’m confused myself. My thoughts are going a mile a minute:spend time with Jacob; keep him in the kilt; check on Dad; get back to Jacob; find a way to be alone with him.I feel like a girl with my first crush, all butterfly feelings and second-guessing and uncertainty.
