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“I’m sorry,” he mumbled, cramming his restless hands into the pockets of his jeans. “I don’t know what it is about this place. I just keep telling you shit.”
“You tell me things because you trust me—because you know I love you.” She said it quite clearly. Without hesitation.
He blinked at her. “You love me?”
“Oh my god, Grant. How could you not know that? After everything you’ve been through in your life I can understand why it would be hard to believe, but think about how close we are and how long we’ve been friends. Who do I call when I’m having a shitty day? Who listens to you when you’re having a shitty day? Who do I choose to spend my free time with? Who’s the only person who has a key to my house? Who do I own an imaginary timeshare dog with?” She wiped her face on the hem of the blanket wrapped around her. “Just because I can’t handle a stupid symbol of permanence doesn’t mean the feelings aren’t there. You know damn well how I feel about you.”
Maybe he’d sort of known that. It made sense, but he’d thought it was sort of a low-key affection—that she found him funny enough to hang out with and put up with him when he was pissy. He’d never really considered there might be an attachment that went both ways.
Forget attachment though. She’d said “love.”
She loved him.
She loved him, of all people. How did he even deserve that?
“I love you too,” he said, half afraid she’d laugh at him and say she’d been joking. Too late to turn back now. “I think I always have.”
As she rose from the chair, she let the blanket fall. Underneath, she was wearing one of his T-shirts that reached the middle of her thighs, and a pair of leggings that hugged her every curve—she’d even kicked off her flip-flops. In the firelight, she was small, and tousled, and vulnerable. She walked carefully over to him, mincing over bits of gravel, then wrapped her arms around his middle and gazed up at him, her eyes wide and shadow-filled.
“And as for your family—barring Will—I have no idea what the hell is wrong with them. They should all be ashamed of themselves for what they did to you. Just because they’re your blood relations doesn’t mean they’re not toxic. They went out of their way to make you feel disposable. Who does that to a person—to a child?”
“I wasn’t the easiest kid to get along with.”
“I don’t care if you were Attila the Hun! They brought you into this world and they had a responsibility to make you feel safe and loved, and they fucked that up! That’s not on you, that’s on them.”
Chapter Sixteen
Arabella held Grant to her, surprised by the narrowness of his waist and hips every time she wrapped her arms around him.
Frustrating, ridiculous man.
He loved her.
He’d actually said the words, and a feeling of lightness rippled through her, reminding her of the way sunlight played off the still lake during their days here. This was something real—something they’d been working on for years without even realizing it.
How could the man possibly think she didn’t love him? It wasn’t the sort of thing she said easily, but he should have known her feelings from her actions, if nothing else. Did he seriously think, after all these years, that she didn’t?
Sure, things between them had started off light, and platonic, with them hanging out and joking around at the club, sharing their exploits and egging each other on. But then they’d started talking about more serious things. They’d been there for each other through work problems and stalkers and movie marathons. They’d bought each other cakes to celebrate birthdays and didn’t knock before strolling into each other’s places.
It had only been one small step from all that to realizing that her love for him wasn’t the brotherly kind. Hell, there had never been a time where she wasn’t exquisitely aware of how hot he was. But he’d treated her like a buddy, not like a girl. She was pretty sure he’d never even given her a second look before the night they’d hooked up, but he’d been staring at her ever since.
Standing on tiptoe, she wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him down for a kiss. The meeting of their lips was long and sweet and made her chest ache. That feeling scared the hell out of her. That feeling, that pull toward another person, was the exact thing she’d been trying to guard herself against. No other man had managed to get through her defenses, but Grant had snuck through a side door she hadn’t even been aware existed.
She’d heard of friends becoming lovers, but had always assumed that any feelings between them would be placid and boring. Ever since the first time they’d been together, though, she’d been obsessing over him.
He lifted her and carried her back to her chair, then settled her on his lap and covered them with the fleece blanket. The warm feeling in her chest spread.
They kissed for what felt like hours, lips and tongues exploring, Grant’s patience with foreplay never ceasing to amaze her. By the time they came up for air, she was squirming and ready for anything he had in mind.
The crackle of the fire had died down, and the night air chilled the bits of her that weren’t covered in blanket.
“Maybe we should move this inside.”
“Sex inside?” she teased. “That doesn’t seem to be our thing.”
“It’s like we have some sort of an objection to being comfortable.”
“Being comfortable is so vanilla.” She snickered, and he grinned down at her.
