Chapter 28
Warmth spreads through my veins when my lips press against hers, a sweet vanilla flavor on my lips that I want to savor forever. The deep ache in my chest loosens as she presses herself closer to me, and my hands grasp her sides, wanting to hold her and never let go. Our kiss is exploratory, gentle yet firm, and all I can think about is wanting to do this forever—holding her, exploring the places she likes to be touched and kissed. Arms wrap around my neck, dainty fingers grasp the back of my hair, and a groan slips from my mouth into hers. My head dizzies when her tongue traces my bottom lip, seeking permission that I more than willingly allow.
Hands roam, mine tracing circles on her hips against her denim waistband, hers over my shoulders as she shudders and melts closer to me. Something as warm as her—apples and cinnamon invade all senses as we explore each other as much as we can, standing next to my car. Cool air wafts around us in the middle of October, pressing us even closer together as we find comfort within each other, but something nagging in my gut tells me I’d always find that in her.
She breaks away first, but not before peppering light kisses against my mouth. My forehead rests against hers, our breaths intermingling with our proximity.
“We should probably head out,” she suggests breathlessly, her fists balling against the front of my shirt like it’s the lifeline she needs to keep her feet planted on the ground. My arm bands around her waist and tightens as another kiss is placed on her lips.
“Probably,” I suggest, my breathing slowing to a normal rate again. “There’s better places I’d rather show you, anyway.”
I kiss her once more, somewhat nervous that this is the first and only time she’ll let me kiss her, before stepping away and following her to her side of the car. She looks over her shoulder inquisitively as I step around her and tug on the door handle, opening the door for her.
She smirks, placing a hand on her cocked hip. “I can open doors for myself, Tanner.”
“You can,” I agree. “But let me do this for you.”
Her eyes are playful, and her smirk forms into a bashful smile as she steps forward. We’re on opposite sides of the door, but she reaches up to press a kiss against my lips again. All thoughts leave my head, but as quickly as she’s there, she’s gone in the next minute and sliding into her seat. I grin and close the door, still trying to wrap my head around the taste of vanilla on my lips.
“Why Connecticut?” Daisy asks as she sips from her apparent fourth cup of coffee today. After we left Yasmin’s place and grabbed coffee, we both agreed that the day was nice enough to walk on a hiking trail. Nothing too strenuous since we aren’t dressed for it, but it’s a way to get out of the car and spend more time getting to know each other.
We haven’t talked about the kiss, and as nervous as I am that she’s going to pull away and close herself off eventually, I’m relishing being in this space with her. She’s playful and inviting, her smile bright, and her eyes lighter than the chocolate color they usually are, almost as if golden hues float throughout.
I shrug. “It was never my choice. I would’ve preferred to stay in Boston after I graduated.”
Daisy nods, taking in the scenery around her. Mountains in the far distance are our backdrop, and aspen and pine trees take up every inch of space around us. The air is thin, but I can’t decide if that’s from the altitude or the near proximity to her.
“Do you think you’d ever move away again?” she asks casually, but I catch the emotion in her eyes when she looks at me, although I can’t pinpoint exactly what it is.
“I don’t know,” I say truthfully, shoving a hand in my pocket as we walk. “I haven’t thought about it much. Boston’s always been home.”
She hums thoughtfully, glancing out at the scenery again. “Why do you ask?” I glance at her. “Do you want to move?”
It’s her turn to shrug, but she brings the coffee cup back to her lips. “I’ve always thought about it,” she says after a moment, a sadness pooling behind her eyes. “I originally planned to move back to Colorado after I graduated, but things didn’t work out.”
I frown. “By things, you mean…?”
“I guess nothing specifically,” she admits on a sigh. “I wanted a closer relationship with my siblings, but we all have a strained relationship because of our parents. It didn’t seem worth it to pack up everything I spent so long building in Boston to experience that rejection again.”
I nod, although I can’t relate. I couldn’t imagine not being close to Brooke or my parents, not getting together every Sunday for our family traditions, or blowing up in the group chat we often forget about until a funny meme pops up we want to share.
“It’s gotta be tough not being close to them,” I offer. She shrugs, her lips turning down.
“Yes and no,” she says. “It’s harder not to be close to my siblings than to my parents. My dad and I try to talk, but it doesn’t usually stick, and the relationship I have with my mom is pretty much nonexistent. I think it’s better that way.”
I tilt my head. “What makes you say that?”
She doesn’t say anything for a few minutes, and I contemplate whether that is the right thing to ask or not, but something in her settles relaxes even as she speaks up. “I don’t think my mom understands me,” she says softly. “I don’t think many people do, but with her, it’s…complicated. I was considered the best out of my siblings—always had good grades, tried playing sports throughout middle and high school, but she…” she trails off, struggling to find words that I’m assuming she doesn’t often vocalize, if at all. “I think it’s hard for her to accept her kids are half-black,” she says a bit thickly. “I don’t think she understands that words and comparisons are hurtful, that comparing me to kids that look nothing like me is confusing. I mean,” she laughs dryly, pointing to her hair. “She would constantly make me straighten this mop because I needed to fit in with white kids. Needed to talk and behave in a way that didn’t embarrass her.”
I remain silent, the pain and anger lacing my body enough that I want to bash my fists into something because the one person who was supposed to protect Daisy, to make her feel loved and safe, didn’t. She slides her gaze to mine, a sad smile on her face.
“Don’t do that.”
I snap out of my daze, looking over at her. “Do what?”
“That,” she nods, using her index finger to point at me and circle. “Don’t get mad on my behalf. It’s not yours to carry.”
“I think somebody gets to be mad on your behalf,” I say carefully. Nothing more, nothing less. This is a conversation I want to have with her, but only so she can vent or take the space she needs. I don’t know what it’s like being in her shoes, and I’m not going to assume I do. It would be wrong and inaccurate, and her experiences are her own, but that doesn’t mean I won’t be upset that she hasn’t had people to take care of her, even if she doesn’t want that sympathy.
“I’ve forgiven her a long time ago,” Daisy sighs. “It doesn’t mean I’m required to have a relationship with her because I don’t want that from her anyway, but it makes the healing easier.”
I nod thoughtfully. Her insightfulness blows me away, not because she isn’t, but because she’s able to look at somebody, recognize the harm they’ve caused her, and move on from it without having any bad feelings. I admire that.
“I do miss my siblings, though,” she continues softly. “I have a sister my age and a younger brother.”
“Do you think you guys will ever have a relationship?”
That same, sad smile appears on her face, a wistful look in her eyes. “I don’t think so. I don’t know how we would be able to without them realizing that our mom caused a lot of damage. We talk once a year, maybe? But it gets hard because they haven’t fully accepted that her behavior isn’t okay. They chalk up the comments about being compared to white people or stereotyping us as her being ‘dramatic’ when it’s so much deeper than that. I don’t fault my siblings, but I do wish they’d acknowledge why I cut our mom out of my life.”
I can’t help the question burning in my brain. “Has she tried reaching out to you?”
That same look appears on Daisy’s face. “Not in a long time. I stopped answering her calls when she’d remind me that it was selfish of me to move across the country to pursue a degree she didn’t agree with.” She rolls her eyes in temporary annoyance. “Most of our phone calls back in the day ended in her hanging up in the middle of my sentences, or reminding me that not only am I selfish for putting myself first, but failed her for not looking after my siblings.”
I reach for her hand, not necessarily for her comfort, but mine. My heart squeezes against the sadness, knowing how alone Daisy must have been. She must sense the shift in my mood because her eyes dart to our interconnected hands.
“So, what’s this?”
I look down, the grin already forming on my mouth despite the feelings I’m working through. “We’re holding hands.”
She feigns shock, the playful look back on her face. “Really? I couldn’t tell.”
I chuckle, pulling her closer so I can wrap my arm around her shoulder. “I don’t know what it is, Daisy,” I say. “I’m trying this whole friends gig out with you because I have a feeling if I said I wanted more from you, you’d run.”
She frowns and slows her pace so I match. “What makes you say that?”
I look at her warily. “You push me away any chance you can.”
She opens her mouth to protest but I shake my head. “It’s okay, Daisy Girl,” I say calmly, reassuringly. “With the brief conversation we just had, it makes sense why you’d be scared or hesitant. I’m not judging you for it, but I think if I offered to take you on a date, you’d stop talking to me.”
“Tan,” she says sadly, and my chest squeezes again when her body sags under mine.
“It’s okay,” I reassure again, looking down at her despite the pinch in my chest when her eyes fill with a sadness I would rather never see on her pretty face. “It’s okay. I’ll take friends or whatever I can with you if it means we can still keep doing whatever this is.”
“You shouldn’t minimize yourself for somebody,” she argues.
“And you,” I stop walking, which forces her to do the same. Facing her, I trace the outline of her jaw, getting lost in the smaller, less known features you’d have to see up close, like the small freckles darting across her nose. “Shouldn’t minimize yourself when somebody does want to pursue you. You’re worth knowing, Daisy Girl, even if you don’t want that person to be me.”
Her eyebrows scrunch in confusion, eyes slowly volleying between mine like she’s trying to process what I’m saying. Her mouth opens and closes. “I…I don’t want it to not be you, Tan,” she says “But you’re…you, and I’m me.”
“I don’t know what that means,” I admit. “We’re different, yeah, but why is that a bad thing?”
She smiles sadly, and fuck, if she keeps giving me these sad smiles, I’m going to walk to the ends of the earth to make sure they don’t come up around me anymore.
“It’s not a bad thing,” she says. “At least, I don’t think it is. I haven’t dated much, and I’m hard to love, which is why I’m saying that. My trust is limited, and I’m worried I’ll end up hurting you.”
My face softens. “You could never hurt me, Daisy. Not even if you tried.”
She squeezes the hand still holding hers, a flicker of sadness behind her eyes. “Let’s hope you’re right.”