28
reed
Anxiety coilsthrough me like a rattlesnake as I climb the steps to Rose’s front porch. I’ve been tied up in knots since last night and barely slept, tossing and turning like it was my penance. Only the need to respect her wishes kept me from driving back over and begging forgiveness. Not seeing her today was a misery, but now, I’m ready to properly apologize and tell her how sorry I am in person.
I’m ready to tell her more. I won’t wait any longer.
I’ve got a tote bag with a pie from Blackbird’s in one hand and a to-go bag from Luz Solar in the other. I ring her bell with my elbow, but she answers before it’s finished chiming.
My eyes and brain have Rose memorized, but my heart spasms in my chest like the sight of her is brand-new every time. She’s wearing a white tank top and shorts, her dark hair tied up on her head. Her eyes shine, her cheeks pink from the exertion of whatever she’s got going on in there. She’s utterly gorgeous. Including the smears of pale blue paint on her forearms and along her jaw.
It’s a struggle not to fall to my knees right here on her porch and beg her to give me a chance.
She grins at me, the discomfort I put between us last nightseemingly forgotten like morning mist. Too soon, as far as I’m concerned. If she gave me the cold shoulder, I’d deserve it. I’d be miserable, but I wouldn’t fault her. But it doesn’t look like she’s going that route. For a moment, she sways toward me as if she’s coming in for a hug, but her gaze lands on the bags I’m holding.
“Come on in.” She opens the door wider, moving aside to let me pass. “It’s kind of a mess in here.”
I trail behind her through the living room, stumbling over my feet at the change. The decor is gone—not a single cowboy, donkey, or cowhide rug in sight. The furniture’s moved away from the walls, plastic drop cloths laid out around the perimeter. Half the side wall is now a soft blue, paint cans and rollers between the TV console and the wall.
“You’ve been busy,” I say, setting my bags on the table. The warm scent of cumin and grilled meat drifts up from the takeout bag, begging me to dig in. But I’ve got something more important to do first. “I like the color.”
“Yeah?” Her expression brightens even more, as if maybe she wasn’t sure. I hate that she’s been made to doubt her own opinions so much. Even by me.
“It fits you.” I step closer to her. “But are you sure this is what you want? I don’t want to push you into this.”
“Reed, you’re the only one who doesn’t push me.”
That emphasis has my chest constricting, my heart swelling with hope.
“I’m sorry for what I said last night. I made you feel like you and your choices aren’t enough, and that couldn’t be further from the truth. You’re everything, firefly.”
She dips her teeth against her lower lip. “You reminded me too much of how my parents talk to me, and I…didn’t like that similarity. But I could have told you then instead of walking away.”
“None of this is on you. You were right. I let my feelings about the shop get in the way of seeing how much you enjoy it. I shouldn’t have made you feel like less for that. I’m sorry, Rose.”
“I forgive you. Can we hug now?”
“Yes, please.”
She tucks herself against my chest, and I wrap my arms tightly around her. The anxiety swirling through me settles as I breathe her in like she’s the only oxygen I need. I run my hands over her back and shoulders, grounding myself. She’s really here. I haven’t screwed everything up beyond repair. I skim my cheek over the top of her head, pressing a kiss to her crown. Her hands splay on my back, locking me against her. I can’t get close enough to her. I want to tuck her inside my shirt and keep her with me always.
A normal and logical thing to want.
After long minutes stretch by, she finally releases me, tentatively drawing back. Pretty sure I could go on hugging her all night.
“Should we?—”
“Rose.” I hate to interrupt her after saying the wrong things last night, but I need to get this out. It will drive me crazy if I don’t. I’ve still got one hand on her hip, and bring the other up to cup her cheek, tracing the blue smudge on her jaw with my thumb. “I don’t want to be your fake boyfriend. I never did.”
Her gaze darts between my eyes, and I can sense her shrinking from me even though she doesn’t move to slip away. “Oh.”
But I won’t have any more misunderstandings or missed opportunities between us. It’s time to lay it all out.
I lean down, holding her gaze as I touch my nose to hers. “I never wanted it to be fake.”
She pauses, and I hold my breath, waiting. Hoping like never before.
“Oh.” Her hands come back to my sides, fisting my shirt. “You don’t want to pretend anymore?”