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“Mm-hm.”
“Are you tired?”
“No.”
“Are you pretending to sleep?”
“Meu pai always said when your wife is ready for bed, you’re ready for bed. That way you’ll always be—” His eyes popped open with a guilty look. “Never mind.”
“Were you going to say ready for it?”
“No,” he scoffed, as though it was the most ridiculous thing.
“Your dad said that to you?” she pressed.
A pink hue touched his cheeks and ears, and she couldn’t help but reach out.
“No.” He scrubbed his face. “I mean, yes. But he didn’t know I understood what he meant. He thought he was being cryptic. Shit. I didn’t mean to assume. Especially not now.”
Her lips curved on one side and a flush chased away the emptiness her tears had wrought. “I like that you assume.”
“You do?” He opened one eye.
“I like that you told me to stop pushing you away. I like that you walked in here like you belong. You keep pulling me from the brink.” She sucked in a breath then let the truth out. “I like that you’re here.”
“Me too.” He twirled his finger through her hair.
“I like that too.” Her eyes followed his action.
“Then I’ll do it forever.”
She snort-laughed again. “You’re very romantic.”
“I practice in the mirror.”
“No you don’t.”
“No. I don’t.” His gaze softened. “I like that I make you laugh.”
“Me too,” she whispered.
“Then I’ll do it forever.”
They stared deeply into each other’s eyes, and she felt something shift within her soul. Another broken piece found a home. She wanted to kiss him. To see if more broken pieces fit somewhere, but his eyes turned serious as he found another strand of her hair to twine.
“Are you going to tell me what hurt you back at the yard?”
She deadpanned. “I don’t want to talk about it.”
He stopped her from turning away. “That’s the only way you can set it free.”
“How would you know? You’re only twenty-five.”
He shrugged. “I’m wise beyond my years. Spent most of the past decade rescuing people from burning buildings and parenting a sick sister. Much of the time before that caring for sick parents. Age has nothing to do with it.”
“I’ll bet they were wonderful parents. I’ll bet they loved you very much.”
“You’re deflecting, but yes. They did.” He brought the strand he twirled over her front, then collected another to make a crisscross pattern on her wet sweater. “Elena and I loved them.”
