Page 64 of Promise

I lick my lips, nervous but almost giddy from our position.

Dart tracks the quick movement of my tongue before meeting my eyes. “I need the same. I need you to force my attention when you think I’m not listening. Tell me if I hurt you.” Pain slashes through his eyes, knowing he’d never intentionally do such a thing, but it happens. A sharp comment. A terse retort.

We weren’t perfect. But we were . . . ours.

“I need you to not push me away but pull me closer. When you need me.”

The truth could be read two ways. Emotionally. But also, physically.

My hands are tucked behind my butt, palms flat on the fridge, like magnets holding photos against the appliance’s surface.

We just stare at one another.

Amber eyes reflecting the darkness of mine.

“Remember our first kiss?” Dart’s voice lowers, his gaze dropping to my mouth again.

How could I forget?

“You were out with girls from the hospital,” he begins.

“And you somehow ended up at the same bar with your friends.”

“That might have been intentional.”

I laugh quietly. “Liar.”

His eyes dance, the truth in them. “I gave you a ride home.”

And I remember being caged in, like my current position.

He’d opened my door like a gentleman, helping me out of his truck, and I stumbled, falling back against the side of the bed.

We just stared at one another for the longest minute of my life.

Like we are doing right now, both privately recalling the memory.

“You were terrifying.” His mouth slowly curls, and he reaches for my hair, slipping his pinched fingers down the short length. Watching as he caresses the strand.

“Me?” I chuckle harder. “You were frightening.” My brother’s best friend. A known flirt. And yet he was so focused on me, always teasing me by calling me Forever.

“Meant it when I said it,” he whispers, as if reading my thoughts while running the back of his fingers along the side of my throat, watching once again where he touches me.

“Forever.” The word ghosts between us. Louder, he says, “Knew I’d never be perfect, but I’d be better with you by my side.”

“Dart,” I whisper, overwhelmed by the honesty.

He sets his fingertip gently on my clavicle, in that little dip between the bones, then drags it up my neck, causing me to tip back my head and glance up at him. He still watches his finger, painting a line over my skin until he reaches my chin.

He gently pinches me there, tipping my head down, catching his gaze on my lips again.

“Still want to be by your side,” he says. “Want you to let me try again.”

I swallow hard, uncertain how to answer him.

“I think we just need more time.” Like Mom said, a lot has happened so quickly.

Dart nods, still looking at my mouth.