15
“Hit.”
Drew pushed a red Battleship peg into the corresponding hole and glanced at Savannah over the top of the board. “And sunk?”
She pressed her lips together, obviously trying not to smile. “Nope.”
Drew wrinkled his forehead and looked back at his radar. There were clearly five red pegs in a row. “No? What do you mean ‘no’?” he asked. “That’s your aircraft carrier!”
Savannah fiddled with her game board and didn’t meet his eye, though her smile grew slowly. “No, it isn’t,” she insisted.
What in the . . .
“Okay,” he said out loud. “Your go, then.” He shifted on the couch, where they were propped against opposite ends, their legs tangled up in the middle. Ryker continued gnawing on a rawhide bone on the floor, unconcerned by whatever mischief was going on above his head.
Savannah fired, missing his submarine by one row, and it was Drew’s turn again.
“E-8?” he asked hesitantly, still thoroughly confused.
Savannah touched her fist to her mouth before she answered, as if trying to rein in her reaction. “Hit,” she said again.
“And sunk this time?”
“Nope.”
“What do you mean ‘nope’?” Drew asked, his volume rising in dismay. “What are you doing over there? Let me see!” He leaned forward as far as he could, but Savannah grabbed her board with both hands and pulled it closer to her chest.
“Mind your own business!” she said, cackling.
Drew grabbed the foot closest to him and tugged on her ankle, making her slide forward. “I don’t understand!” he said through gritted teeth, laughing even as he tried to keep a straight face. “This isn’t possible!”
“Sure, it is, now let me go!” she shrieked, yanking her leg out of his grasp, but Drew was done playing. He knocked his board onto the floor and surged forward.
The pandemonium brought Ryker to his feet, and the dog barked and jumped this way and that as Drew scrambled the length of the couch. Savannah’s eyes went wide, and she squealed as he rose up over her, holding himself on one hand while he tried to grab her board with the other.
“You animal!” she cried, laughing so hard her cheeks were wet. She was twisted up like a pretzel, her legs bent beneath him and her knees against his chest as she tried to fend him off.
“You cheater!” Drew called out, finally getting a glimpse of her five plastic battleships clustered together. He’d hit four different boats in six shots. No wonder! “Nobody plays like this!” he insisted.
“It’s not against the rules!” she countered.
“Well, it should be!” he said. He tried to look down at her but had to turn his head to one side to avoid being kissed by the dog, who had finally decided nobody was truly under attack and that he wanted to play too.
“Down, boy! Sit!” Drew commanded, trying to shield both himself and Savannah from this new onslaught.
Savannah, still laughing, was no help at all.
“Ryker, stop!” Drew shouted, and the dog finally backed up and plopped his rear on the living room rug, tongue lolling out, wholly unrepentant.
Drew craned his neck to wipe his ear against his shoulder and then narrowed his eyes at the giggling girl beneath him. “This is your fault,” he deadpanned.
She snorted and wiped a hand across her own face. “How?”
“I don’t know yet, but it is.” He felt her knees press against his collarbone, clearly reminding him that she was bent almost in half, and he raised himself enough for her to unfold her extremities, though not enough for her to escape completely.
She reached up and combed her fingers through his hair, fixing what Ryker had mussed. “You ruined the game. I think you should have to pay for that,” she said softly.
Her cheeks were pink and her eyes were bright, and Drew wondered, not for the first time, how he’d ever thought he could have stayed away from her. “Oh, really? What’s it gonna cost me?” he asked.
A sneaky smile inched across her face, and she curled one hand around the back of his neck before pulling him down closer. When her lips reached his ear, she answered. “It’s karaoke night.”
Drew would have never thought those specific words could send a shiver down his spine, but they had. Or maybe it was just the way she’d said them. He had a feeling she could have told him to go scrub toilets in that particular moment and he’d have been happy to do it.
But karaoke night? That was cruel and unusual punishment.
She must have seen the grimace on his face, because she laughed merrily. “Oh, come on, Andrew! I won’t make you get up; just go with me. It’ll be fun! We spend too much time here alone.”
Drew strongly disagreed—alone with her was his most favorite place to be, and he didn’t think they did enough of it.
“We haven’t had dinner yet,” Savannah wheedled. She ran her finger under the edge of his shirt collar, which honestly didn’t help her case.
Drew collapsed to one side, wedging himself into the gap between her body and the back of the couch.
He knew deep down that if he protested enough, she’d give in; she wouldn’t truly force him to do something against his will.
But then he thought of all the times she’d stayed home because that’s what he’d wanted to do, and he decided it was only fair.
He heaved an extra-large sigh, just for good measure.
“Fine,” he grumbled. “But if anybody announces my name, you’re walking home. Deal?”
Savannah twisted her smile to one side. “You wouldn’t make me walk in the dark all alone, would you?”
“Try me,” he deadpanned.
She laughed out loud and rolled to face him. “I love you; you know that?”
The words had slipped out so easily, almost like an accident, and her smile froze. Drew felt every muscle in his body tense, and he forgot how to breathe. Had she said . . .
She probably didn’t mean it like that. She’d been laughing. It was just a thing that came out sometimes . . .
But Savannah’s expression sobered, melting from one of surprise to something entirely different.
She cleared her throat and cupped her hand along one side of his face.
“I do, you know,” she said quietly, so quietly that he might not have heard her if he hadn’t been watching her mouth at the same time. “I love you. I think I always have.”
Drew physically felt the seconds ticking forward, each one urging him to answer, to say it back, but the words got dammed up somewhere between his brain and his mouth.
It wasn’t that he didn’t want to, it was that he couldn’t.
So instead, he leaned forward and captured her mouth with his, hoping to make her understand all the things he couldn’t put into words.
How she completed him.
How she’d rescued him.
How he couldn’t imagine a world without her in it.
He kissed her until he’d forgotten to be afraid of how deeply she made him feel.
And then, when she smiled up at him, he kissed her again.
He didn’t say it back, Savannah thought as she made her way home from the Copper Kettle later that night. He didn’t say it back, but that’s okay, right? He kissed me like he meant it, and that’s worth a thousand words! He’s never been one for words. He probably does mean it.
Probably . . .
Right?