Aura’s gaze dropped to my hand again. “Does it hurt?”
“My hand?”
“No, Easton. Your aura.”
I gave her a look.
She blinked. “Sorry. My name makes that sentence difficult.”
“My hand hurts less than my pride.”
“Your pride needed a parole hearing.”
“Rude.”
“I’ll handle it.”
“Don’t.”
I frowned at her. “Don’t what?”
“Don’t shut me out of it and call that noble.” She sat up a little, the sheet tucked around her, her hair falling over one shoulder. “If we’re doing this, if we’re actually doing this, you don’t get to decide that your problems are too heavy for me. You carried mine tonight. I can carry yours too.”
I stared at her.
She looked nervous, but she didn’t back down.
“I’m not saying I can fix it,” she said. “I’m not Cade with a black card or your coach. I’m not your mom. But I can sit beside you when things are ugly for you.”
My throat tightened.
“You want help with class notes while you’re overwhelmed from practice and spiraling? I’ll help. You want someone to tell you not to text Maddox something incriminating? I’m excellent at confiscating phones.”
“You’d be terrifying in that role.”
“I was born for it.”
“You’d read my texts.”
“For legal quality control.”
“Absolutely not.”
“Then don’t commit crimes in writing.”
I shook my head, but I was smiling again. “You’re bossy.”
“You like it.”
“I do.”
Her smile dimmed into something softer. “Let me stand in daylight with you.”
The words hit harder than they should have, maybe because she knew exactly where to place them.
I pulled her closer until she was half in my lap, sheet and all. “That’s all I wanted.”
“I know.”
