CHAPTER THIRTEEN #2
“Dad told me you did good today,” Meg commented as I walked her to her car after her shift was over.
I huffed a chuckle. “I do good every day.”
She shook her head at my feigned arrogance and clutched her tote bag tighter to her side. “No, seriously. He was really proud of the way you handled that kid at The Fisch Market,” she went on, keeping her eyes on the ground.
A heavy silence hung in the air, begging to be lifted and brightened with jokes. I didn't say anything though, sensing that there was something she was holding back, not putting it out there … but why?
How could I read that kid at the store so well, but not this woman I'd spent much of my time with? How was she still such a mystery? And why didn't I mind that at all—that there was always something new to figure out, something else to discover about her?
Even the subtlest things, like the way that streetlamp right there reflected off her golden-blonde curls and pulled out the tiniest, nearly indiscernible hint of copper.
I'd never seen that before. Never noticed.
And that made me wonder … if I was still discovering things about her eight years later, what else would I learn in the next eight?
Eight years.
Holy crap, it had been eight years since that night. Eight years since Dad had been murdered and brought back … twice. Eight years since I'd run through the streets in the soaking rain to find help, her voice a guiding beacon of light all the way.
“I'm proud of you too,” Meg said finally, tearing me from my thoughts.
“What?” I asked, stopping in my tracks and turning to face her.
She cleared her throat and looked up to my eyes.
“I said, I'm proud of you too. For … everything.
Not just today, but … all of it. You have been through more than most people ever will in their lives.
Most people buckle under that type of trauma.
But … here you are. It's …” She shook her head, her curls dancing with the movement.
“I don't think you realize how amazing that is.”
I shrugged it off, moving my gaze from hers to look above at the stars twinkling in the sky. “It's just what I've been taught to do. I mean, what's the alternative, you know?”
Her wonderous stare made me shift from foot to foot, made me uncomfortable in my own skin, like for the first time, she was seeing something in me.
Like I was stripped bare, down to my core, and she was memorizing every dip and curve of sinew and muscle.
Tracing the tangles of veins and nerves.
I didn't like it, but I loved that she was looking at me.
“I'm going out with Jack tonight,” she said, her eyes now pinned to my badge.
That fucking guy. My lungs filled with the clean, fresh air, yet it felt stale and awful, leaving my chest tight and yearning for more.
“I hope you have a good time,” I said, trying to keep my voice neutral, but my jaw ached, and my tone was bitter.
She bit her bottom lip, clutched that massive bag closer, and shook her head. “Tell me not to go.”
Instantly jarred and shaken, I dropped my eyes to hers, my nerves kicking into high gear. “Why would I do that?”
“Because you want me,” she stated, holding my gaze.
My brow furrowed, and my hands began to shake at my sides. “What … what does that matter? It's never mattered. You don’t want me. You—”
“But what if I changed my mind?”
A laugh barked from my lips, so loud and abrupt that I was instantly embarrassed that someone might've heard.
“What?” I asked, amused and incredulous. I thrust a hand through my hair and swept my gaze across the parking lot, just to look anywhere but at her. “All this fucking time, and now—”
“Look at me. Please.”
I did, my chest puffing with every labored breath.
Oh God, it was hard to breathe, and you'd think the very opposite would happen at the moment my most impossible dream came true, but I hadn't expected it to terrify me.
I hadn't anticipated my entire world to be rocked and jostled and set off its fucking axis at the moment she agreed to be mine.
But I was standing at the edge of that precipice—finally—and, oh God, I wanted to leap, but I was terrified I'd fall to uncertain death.
But when my eyes found hers, all I found was truth. Unburdened. And a fear as real as mine.
“I'm breaking up with him,” she announced, her voice fragile but sure.
“You're fucking serious right now,” I stated, more to myself than to her. “You're not fucking with me.”
She nodded, a cautious smile tugging at her lips. “I was going to meet him for dinner and do it in person.”
“And you, what? Just decided this tonight o-or—”
“No,” she replied, giving her head a quick shake, making her curls dance against her shoulders. “No, I, um … I've known for a little while. I just wanted to wait for the right time. I didn't want to hurt him, you know? He's … he's not a bad guy. He's always treated me right.”
I fought the urge to roll my eyes. Clearly, we didn't share the same perception of his attitude. But he was jealous, I reminded myself, and now I understood why.
Holy crap, this is really happening.
The need to grin and laugh and cry and howl at the fucking moon was all-consuming and overwhelming, and I did none of the above. I just bit at my lip, grappling for the last shreds of my composure, as she took a step closer, shrinking the distance between us, and continued to speak.
“But if you told me not to go, if you told me to …
to stay here … with you … I would. I would call him instead.
It's …” Nervous laughter bubbled past her lips as she brushed a curl away from her cheek.
“God, this is crazy. I don't know what's happening.
Like, I … I kinda knew I liked you a while ago, but I thought it was, you know, a silly little thing.
You know, fleeting or something, and I just ignored it.
I thought it'd go away. I thought I'd get over it. But …”
Then, to my horror, her blue eyes were suddenly swimming in pools of tears, and my hands were clenching into fists at my sides, my blunt fingernails digging into my palms.
“Oh my God, Noah, I can't stop thinking about you,” she admitted in a trembling whisper.
“I wake up, and I can't wait to see you.
I go home, and I'm sad I have to walk away from you.
I go to bed, and I dream about you. I can't get you out of my head, and I'm tired of ignoring it.
I'm so sick of telling myself to stop, like it's wrong, when the only thing wrong about this is pretending it doesn't exist. But I'm done pretending. I'm done acting like—”
“Don't go,” I finally said in a hurry, after moments of stupefied silence. My trembling hands lifted to blanket her cheeks with my palms, my fingertips dipping into the tangles of her curls. “Holy shit, Meghan, don't fucking go.”
That gigantic tote bag was dropped to the asphalt as her hands lay over my wrists, her fingers curling and holding me there, to her.
I bent my neck, my eyes holding her gaze as I said, “I don't want to give him the chance to change your mind again.”
She shook her head. “I wouldn't. Not this time.”
This feels like a dream, I thought as her eyes stared into mine and we whispered in smiles and laughs, dangling in the moments where we both knew—we just knew—this was it.
I was going to kiss her. I was going to know what it was like to press my lips against Meghan Kinney's, and there would be no going back.
No turning around. And maybe that should scare me more than it did.
God, it could destroy me if things went wrong, but I wasn't scared of that.
I was terrified, yes, but what terrified me more than losing my job or giving her dad a reason to make my life a living hell was knowing that making her mine also meant having her to lose.
But there'd be nothing to fear if I held on to her with an iron fist. Now until …
Forever.
This could be forever.
“Come on, Mason,” Meg whispered, her fingertips massaging the insides of my wrists. “Kiss the girl. Do it. I dare you.”
“I've never been known to turn down a dare,” I muttered.
She grinned, mischief twinkling in her eyes. “I know.”
Not another moment was wasted after that.
No more thinking.
No more silent conversation.
I pushed my lips to hers in a moment that was at once forceful and gentle, and I reveled in the ability to take her breath away as she gasped—a sharp inhale through her nose—as I held her to me, my fingers wrapping and winding within the chaotic web of her hair in just the way I’d always imagined.
And the world continued to spin around us—from the streets and the sidewalks and neighboring lots—but in our little bubble, time stood still as my heart settled and rested in the assurance that I'd finally been let in and I wasn't dreaming.
I kissed her again and again, smiling between each one like an idiot.
But if I was an idiot, then so was she.
“Where are you going tonight?” she asked, her breath feathering against my lips.
“I …” I kissed her again, not wanting to let another second in my life pass without touching her, tasting her. “I still live at home.”
Her giggles burst into the night like fireworks and champagne bubbles, and I pulled back, only an inch or two, to watch her laugh. At my expense maybe, but, God, she was beautiful, my angel on the phone line.
Mine.
She was mine.
“What?” I asked, unable to stop myself from laughing with her.
“I know you live with your parents,” she said, her laughter softly fading as she easily wrapped her arms around my neck like it was the most natural thing in the world.
Right. It was right. All of this.
“I was asking, what are you doing?”
“Well, Dad makes dinner every night, so …” I shrugged, wrapping my arms around her mid-back, our bodies now gently swaying in the lamppost light.
Like we were dancing to music unheard. “So, after work, I usually go home, eat dinner with my parents and Miles, and then, I …” I shrugged, suddenly feeling like the little kid she always accused me of being.
Afraid of continuing and admitting the boyish hobbies I still held on to.
Video games. Movies with my parents and little brother.
I mean, fuck, she was twenty-six. She probably went home to her apartment and had a glass of wine, did something fancy like mature women did in movies …
“Yeah?” she encouraged.
I knew I was blushing as I admitted, “Then I usually go to my room and play video games until I have to shower and go to bed. Sometimes, I play with Dad. Sometimes, we watch movies, if Mom and Miles are up to it.”
Her smile grew even wider. “That sounds fun.”
“Yeah? You don't think I'm a lame little kid?”
Her eyes softened as her gaze fell once again to my lips. “No, Noah. I don't think you're a little kid. Not anymore.”
Satisfied, I nodded. “So, does that mean you wanna come and have dinner with my parents and little brother?”
“Do I get to play video games with you afterward?”
“Absolutely,” I said. “But you might have to fight Dad for his controller.”
“Your dad's really big,” she said. “I don't know that I can take him.”
“Don't worry,” I replied, letting go to grab her hand, leading her to my car. “I'll teach you how to kick his ass.”