Page 60 of Nothing At All

Think about this. Well, that was my first instinct, to think it out, but did I really need to?

“You’re serious,” Samantha breathed, sober and intent now. “Oh, wow.”

Annoyance pricked to life again. “Don’t start about him.”

“I’m not. I just . . . you’ve never said that about a guy or . . . wow.” She paused, eyes wide and lips parted, completely gobsmacked. “I’m happy for you.”

I blinked. “Really?”

“Yes. If he’s good to you and loves you and you love him, then absolutely.” She paused, stunned expression fading into excitement. She leaned forward with the phone. “So have you told him?”

“No.” The word left my lips in the smallest voice possible. I hadn’t, because it had taken me weeks to figure myself out. And I thought I was so self-aware. I wanted to roll my eyes at myself.

“Okay.” Samantha dragged the syllables out, a tiny frown of concentration drawing her brows together. “Has he said it?”

“Yes.” Guilt wrapped itself around me.

Sam winced. She knew me, and I knew she recognized that tone. “What did you do?”

I shrank into the pillows, remembering the shattered expression on his bruised face. “I couldn’t say it back then because I didn’t know what I felt.”

“Okay. That happens.” Samantha waved a hand like the answer was obvious. “So . . . tell him.”

“I will.” That shivery panic moved through me again. “Look, Sam, I need to go. I’ll . . . I’ll call you later this week.”

“Sure.” She blew me a kiss. “Love you, babe. It’ll be okay.”

Dropping the phone, I pressed my forehead against my updrawn knees and dragged in a deep breath, holding it, then letting it go again. Samantha was right. I simply had to tell him.

I would just . . . tell him. He’d believe me, even though I hadn’t reacted well to his declaration, and he’d be happy.

Of course he would.

Chapter Eighteen

Dan

A night out should not feel like walking up to a sketchy traffic stop.

Even with my dash cam and body cam, sometimes my gut twisted with knots when I settled my hat on my head and stepped out of my unit. I’d learned to lean into the sensation because my instinct was rarely wrong.

Lila flinching when I laid my hand on her lower back to usher her ahead of me into the Cue Club put those same tight lumps in my belly, narrowing my focus, making the music and chatter both too loud and a muted rush of sound in my ears.

She freaking flinched from me.

That couldn’t be good.

Shit, was she going to break up with me? I pushed down the dread and panic – that never helped anyone. I didn’t get it, though. Last weekend had been good. I mean, things had gone well with her parents, and we’d checked in all week. I had those pretty gold earrings in my pocket, too, ready for an opportunity to give them to her.

If she’d been a little distracted during our video calls, well . . . that didn’t have to be bad.

Pulling my hand back, I schooled my face to the neutral expression I used on those about-to-go-bad stops. “You’re jumpy tonight.”

Her eyes flew to mine, wide and panicky, a little guilty.

Oh, hell.

I stepped to one side, away from the huge party of locals streaming in behind us. I didn’t touch her, just led so she could follow. Tiny lines of anxious misery settled about her mouth, and my gut rolled over.