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God, it was such a long way down.
Not just to the floor.
Arabella swiped her hands over her face as if she could smooth away the
stress headache pounding at her temples or the sick feeling in her stomach.
As if she could smooth away her dad’s terrible decisions, her own mistakes,
the old house they’d had to give up, their old life.
“Arabella…”
“I’m just tired,” she groaned, somewhat incoherently.
“I’m seriously worried about you.”
Arabella lifted her head and blinked. June’s big, dark eyes swam into
view. Her forehead had a big worry crease in it and her lips were flattened
out. She did look concerned. That was nice of her, Arabella decided. So
very, very nice of her. She blinked again, because she swore that June was
closer than she was before, but her eyes were grainy and tired, and her brain
was so sluggish from all the stress that it almost didn’t make sense.
June touched Arabella’s knee. She was wearing black dress pants so she
couldn’t feel the touch, but she imagined she could. Her mouth went dry
like she could feel those fingertips on her bare skin. She felt silly, getting all
revved up and hot about something so simple as the brush of June’s
fingertips on top of her clothes. She berated herself for her reaction. That
touch was meant to comfort, not to spark flames or make her heart pound.
Even if that’s what was happening.
Arabella thought that would be it, but when June set her hand softly on
her cheek, her heart started to slam even harder. Her eyes shut and she
waited. She wasn’t going to make a move. She wasn’t going to make any
movement. She’d told Summer she wouldn’t. June had drawn a line and she
wasn’t going to cross it. If June wanted to, it had to be her. It had to be her
making the decisions.
She didn’t walk across that line. She sprinted. June’s hand brushed over
Arabella’s jaw. Her eyes wrenched open, and she saw June lean in. She
