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“That makes sense,” I said. It didn’t even hurt. Of course Asher would want to take care of his brother like that. “There’s a lot of work that needs to be done.”
“I know that now,” Forrest said. “And you’re out of your mind if you’re worried about him throwing you out.”
I huffed quietly and curled onto my side, pressing the phone against my ear. “I don’t care about that right now. I just can’t stop thinking about you getting hurt. I’m sorry I wasn’t able to be with you. I should have been. I should have come help.”
“I helped myself,” Forrest said. “There was no way in hell I was ruining today for you. Baby—it was amazing. Ash showed me the video, and I can’t get over it. You fucking killed it, sweetheart.”
“I’m sure I looked like a total wreck,” I said, my stomach twisting when I realized Forrest had now seen me, but I hadn’t seen him.
“You were perfect,” he said fiercely. “And I know you won’t believe me, so I’ll say it until you do.”
I chuckled into my pillow. “I wish you were here. The wall feels weird without you behind it.”
“I know,” he said. “I’m in my old childhood bedroom, and it’s the worst. My parents are downstairs drunk on egg nog, and they want me to be up at dawn to open gifts.”
Right. Because it was Christmas Eve.
“Happy Christmas,” I murmured.
“I love you,” he said, and suddenly the whole world froze. “I know Ash already opened his fat mouth about how I feel, but I think you knew anyway. Tell me you knew.”
It felt like jumping off a cliff, admitting that I did, but I nodded all the same. “I knew. And—”
“Wait,” he said in a rush. “Just…just wait. Until next week. You can tell me then.”
It would kill me to do that, but I would. I would do anything for him. “Whatever you want,” I promised.
“Right now, I want you to sleep. I want you to bask in your fucking triumphant return. And when we’ve both gotten some rest, I want you to tell me every damn detail about your new job and what this means for you.”
“They haven’t called me back yet,” I said with a grin.
“Oh, sweetheart, they will.”
I grinned and hugged myself tighter, realizing that in a week, the arms squeezing around me might be his. Assuming there were such things as Christmas miracles. “I think you might be right.”
“So then let’s call this a good night,” he said.
I closed my eyes. “Will you sing to me again?”
“Just keep the phone close, sweetheart,” he said. There was a beat of silence, then his voice rose again through the little speaker and carried me off into the dark.
* * *
