Page 31 of Anton

“You don’t have to worry about that. My family took care of it.”

Good. Now hop on your bike and leave. You’re not her hero. Blyat, you’re not anyone’s hero.

Still, my arms remain at my sides while unshed tears brighten her eyes. Her shoulders sink, and the way she looks at me tells me she’s waiting for comfort I don’t know how to give.

I’ve dealt with brutality, with things that should have broken me years ago, and none of it has ever been as hard as this is. It’s the most uncomfortable I’ve ever felt.

I don’t know what she wants from me. If there’s something I should be doing or saying.

“Is there something wrong with me?” she asks.

I almost wonder if I misheard. What the hell could be wrong with her? She’s close to perfect.

“What are you talking about?”

“Nothing.” More tears gather in her eyes as she fights to keep herself from falling apart in front of me.

So I do something I know I’m going to regret: I hold her.

She sags against me, and I wrap myself around her with an uncertainty I don’t know how to hide. At first, I barely have my arms around her, but the more she presses into my body, the more natural it begins to feel.

“Is this okay?”

She nods against my chest. “It’s more than okay. It’s perfect.”

“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves,” I say, though the corner of my mouth betrays me with a tug.

Her laughter warms my chest. “You’re funny.”

“And you’re annoying.”

She leans back far enough to catch my gaze, her eyes still wet as she searches my face. “I think you’re lying.”

I might be.

My arm rises, fingers catching her jaw, thumb brushing across her bottom lip. The second I touch her like that, I feel it again, stronger this time: that pull that’s been building since the second I saw her.

She stares up, watching, waiting…

And the longer she does, the harder it becomes to pretend I don’t want this.

But I can’t. I won’t.

I’ve never kissed a woman, and I’m not about to start now. Not with her. Not when I want it this badly. Because nothing good comes from wanting something you’re not supposed to have.

We stay like that, and this unfamiliar sensation fills me. Something dangerously close to contentment, as though this is where I’m meant to be.

Her hand hovers before she cups my cheek. “Thank you…friend. I needed that.”

That simple touch sends a current through my body.

I stay quiet, and she keeps staring at me before she says, “If you ever need me, I’ll be there too.”

I scoff. “What would I need from you?”

“You never know. I might surprise you.”

You already have.