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And she confirmed it with her next words. “He’s spent more birthdays in the ground than he did above it.”
That ricocheted through me like a bullet.
“He’s spent more birthdays in the ground thanIhave about it.”
All the air seized in my lungs.
Fuck.
Fuck.
“And this year, my parents celebrated his birthday at a cemetery scrubbing the ash off my brother’s headstone so that we could see his name again.”
My hands convulsed. “Baby.”
She shook her head, deliberately didn’t look at me, and whispered, “So, don’t say dead, okay?”
I forced out a silent breath, continued brushing her cheek lightly back and forth, back and forth, wanting her to turn her eyes back to mine, especially since I could see them swimming with tears, moisture glinting in the late afternoon sunshine. “Okay, sweetheart. I won’t.”
A shaky nod.
An even shakier breath.
“Thank you,” she whispered.
And then we stood there, silent and not looking at each other. Until she shifted again.
This time, I let her go, let her slide down my body until her feet hit the ground.
We’d taken a giant leap forward, and even though from the outside it probably wouldn’t seem like a lot,Iknew it was huge.
She’d shared.
Had peeled back a layer, peeked out from behind that shield.
And she’d given me a tiny piece of Billie Rose.
I was greedy. I wanted her to drop the armor, let go of the layers. I wanted her to allow me to gather them all up and put her back together.
But I knew I needed to proceed carefully.
So, I cradled the piece she’d given into my care like the precious gifts they were, and I turned the subject back to lighter topics.
I hoped so anyway.
“So that wagyu tape?” I teased. “Did you cry because I picked the wrong type?”
Her body jolted and then—fuckingfinally—she looked up at me. “Wagyu tape. Really?”
I shrugged, fighting a grin.
A roll of her eyes.
I bopped her lightly on the nose. “So, was it wrong?”
Her lips turned up, but something soft settled in her face, and I held my breath when she reached up and touched my jaw, fingers stroking through my beard. “It wasn’t wrong,” she whispered.
“Oh,” I whispered back. “Okay.” A beat. “Too much hockey then? You’ve had enough of us in your vicinity?”
