Chapter 24
TWENTY-FOUR
Hallie’s at my place early the next morning to pick up Emma, but she doesn’t do more than give me a small smile and a wave before driving off with my girl.
Nerves churn in my stomach the entire morning as I try to play it cool despite having no idea where we stand.
But when she texts me a selfie of her and Wren, that tension eases.
She’s not ignoring me. She’s not avoiding me. She’s just overwhelmed and unsure.
I can work with this.
She pulls up at four to drop off Emma, but when she hesitates when Emma asks if she’s coming inside, I remember my mission. Play it slow. Play it safe. Give her space, but not too much.
“We’ll see her in an hour at the family dinner, Em. Let her have some space.” Emma glares at me but nods, and when she does, Hallie gives me a relieved look.
“Yeah, I desperately need to wash my hair, Em. It’s getting gross.” She motions to her head, where her hair is in two French braids.
“Looks good to me,” I say, eyes on Hallie. A blush spreads across her cheeks, and I smirk just a bit. But she doesn’t look away. She holds my gaze, eyes lighting up with challenge.
God, I’m so gone for this woman.
I tap the top of the car instead of begging her to stay, insisting she showers at my place, preferably with me, and turn to my daughter. “Let’s go, Em. Get your things, and let Hallie get ready.” Emma nods, slides out of the car, and I wave to Hallie as she drives off.
At family dinner, her hair is freshly washed and down—isn’t that strange?—but the fact that she’s in a pair of jeans and a sweater rather than a Three Kings sweatshirt and leggings and wearing makeup is. Almost as if she wanted to look good for some reason.
“Hair looks good, Hal,” I murmur when she walks into my parents’ place. Again, that blush, and this time, it’s accompanied by a soft, shy smile.
After my talk with my dad and my admitted tantrum at The Mill, I’m a bit nervous about dinner.
I assume everyone understands at this point that there is something between Hallie and me, and I don’t need them poking and prodding and scaring off Hallie.
Thankfully, my entire family also seems to understand the assignment of taking things slow and letting Hallie steer this ship, and doesn’t say a single word of teasing or question.
It’s further proof that her fears are unfounded.
She’s so worried about losing them, but I don’t think she realizes there is no world where my family would simply let her go.
I’m pretty sure they’d get rid of me before they got rid of Hallie at this point; she’s such an integral part of this family.
After dinner, Hallie, Emma, and I walk back together, and when we reach my house, I turn to my daughter. “I’m gonna go walk Hallie to her place. Go get your pajamas on, and you can get some screen time.”
Emma’s eyes light up, and she nods.
“Thanks, Dad!” she says, heading inside at warp speed.
I smile at her predictability and turn to Hallie. “Come on.”
“You don’t have to—” she starts, and I shake my head. She rolls her eyes but doesn’t argue.
As we’re walking, I think about how I want to be holding her hand, about how I want to give her a goodnight kiss, and about how I want to drag her inside and do a lot more than kiss.
But I don’t. Instead, when we get to her door, we both stop, facing each other.
Silence spans between us, and I lift a hand, letting the very tips of my fingers move along her earrings.
I like these, Hal. Really pretty.” Then the backs of my fingers move down, coasting over the side of her neck, and her breath hitches.
I can’t help but let the tiniest, teasing smirk play on my lips before I step back. ”Are they new?”
“I got them today with Emma and Wren at the mall.”
I nod. I wonder if she knows I’m thinking about the sounds she makes when I tug her earrings between my teeth. When her cheeks go pinker, something I know has nothing to do with the cold, I get my answer.
“I like them a lot.” We stand there for another moment before I give in. “Anyway. See you tomorrow?” I ask. There’s a single moment of hesitation before she nods.
“Yeah. I’ll get Emma off the bus. Any dinner requests?”
God, she’s so mine.
“Whatever you guys want. I’ll make a grocery run in the morning—let me know if you need anything.
” She nods, then I pull her in for a hug.
Her body doesn’t tighten as it did yesterday.
She takes in a deep breath and just melts as soon as she’s in my arms. I hold her for as long as I can without pushing it too far before stepping back, dipping to press my lips to her cheek.
“Night, Hallie. Sweet dreams.”
And then I head back home, feeling like the day was a success.
The next night, I managed to convince her to stay for dinner with the help of Emma’s pleading.
After we’re finished eating, I clean up while she helps Emma pick out an outfit for school the next day, but when she steps out and tells me she’s going to head home, I nod.
Confusion and surprise cross her face—she’s clearly expecting me to argue, which only tells me she doesn’t realize my game yet.
“I’ll walk you home,” I say, calling out to tell Emma what I’m doing, and pleased with the fact that Hallie doesn’t argue at all anymore, instead just moving to the mudroom to get her shoes and jacket on.
“Hallie,” I murmur when we’re halfway to her place, tipping my chin to the woods to see the deer again.
“Jane Doe! How are you?” Hallie says as if she’s an old friend. When the deer approaches with zero trepidation, bumping her snout into Hallie’s hand, I can’t help but shake my head. Only Hallie would make friends with a motherless doe.
Since that day in the woods, I’ve wondered if Hallie and her deer share some kind of kinship, and the more I think about it and see them together, the more I realize the answer is absolutely yes.
Hallie murmurs and chats with the animal for about a minute before Jane hears something, breathes out a noise that is alarmingly close to a goodbye, and walks off.
“Does that happen often?” I ask once the deer is out of sight and once Hallie moves back to me.
“She comes to my place for snacks. I got her a salt block. We’re friends,” she says as we start to walk.
I let out a small laugh and shake my head, but my chest freezes when our hands bump.
With the move, she looks up at me, gives me a tiny, hesitant tilt of her lips, then twines her fingers with mine.
I walk as slowly as I can, wanting to devour the moment, and when we get to her door, I do the same as the night before: a long hug, a kiss to her cheek, and wishing her goodnight.
On Tuesday, Emma convinces Hallie to stay for a movie, and Hallie puts up even less of an argument than she has in the past. It’s getting easier to convince her to spend time here, and I wonder if I’m already weakening her walls just a bit, or if she’s falling back into comfortable habits.
One movie turns into two, and there’s an hour or so left before I send Emma to bed. Once the house is quiet and Emma is in her room, I sit back down on the couch and pat the seat next to me. Hallie eyes it skeptically.
“I should go,” she says.
I lift an eyebrow at her. “You’re going to make me finish this movie alone?”
“You don’t have to—”
“How else am I going to know how their Italian internship goes?” She stares at me like she’s not buying it before rolling her eyes and sitting again, but unlike when Emma was here, when she sat on the complete opposite side, my daughter between us, Hallie sits a mere foot from me on the couch. I smile to myself.
Ten minutes later, I move, closing the gap between us, looping an arm around her shoulder, and pulling her into my side.
Ten minutes after that, she shifts, resting her head in my lap, and I run my fingers through her hair, watching her eyes flutter shut as a pleased sigh leaves her lips.
If this were all I got from her for a lifetime, I could be okay with it, but when she speaks after a bit, I know we’re easing our way toward more.
“When you said you’d wait…” she starts, then hesitates, unsure of how to continue, but I don’t speak or pressure her. My fingers keep moving slowly, waiting for her to finish, and eventually she does. “When you said you’d wait, what did you mean?” I respond with no hesitation.
“I meant that I know in my heart of hearts that you’re exactly what I need. What Emma needs. What we need. And I know we’re what you need. But I’m not in a rush to make that happen, so I’ll wait, Hallie.”
She doesn’t speak again, but she doesn’t have to. When I walk her to the door that night, she stands before me, head tipped back, almost like she’s waiting for a moment, waiting for me to make a move.
To kiss her, I realize.
I don’t.
Instead, I hug her and press a soft kiss to her cheek.
The flash of disappointment that crosses her face feels like the biggest win yet.
This goes on for two more nights before she gets brave. On Friday, when I walk her home, she turns to glare at me, hand on her hips.
“Are you ever going to kiss me?”
I lift an eyebrow at her. “Are you saying you’re ready for me to kiss you?”
A blush burns bright on her cheeks. She hesitates, but not for long.
“I mean, a goodnight kiss would be nice.”
“You’ve got the reins, Hallie. You call the shots. If you want a goodnight kiss, ask for one.”
She doesn’t.
I shouldn’t be surprised.
Instead, she moves to her tiptoes and takes one hand on either side of my face and pulls my face to hers.
My arms tighten around her, my heart racing as she presses her lips to mine and holds them there for a beat.
It’s fucking perfect, her soft hands on my cheeks, her lips sliding against mine, her body pressed to me.
I want more, but I don’t take it.
When she pulls back, her cheeks are flushed, her pupils are dilated, and her breathing is heavy as if we had made out for an hour, despite it being a chaste kiss. I know the feeling, because I’m breathing similarly.
Kissing Hallie is intoxicating.
She stares at me for a moment, hands still on my face, before she nods, as if she found that acceptable. I bite back a laugh but don’t fight off the smile.
“Good night, Jesse,” she says.
“Night, Hal.”
She bites her lip, then surprises me with another soft, closed-lipped kiss before stepping away and through her door.
On Saturday, I get a text before Emma’s up, and the grin that spreads across my face might just light up the entire room.
Do you have my creamer?
Yeah, why?
I’m out. Can I come for coffee?
I’m not sure if she’s actually out of her creamer, but in this moment, I do not care. Hallie is initiating contact, coming to my house outside her regular after-school hours on a Saturday, a day when I wasn’t sure I’d actually see her.
Only if you stay for breakfast.
The dots appear and disappear a few times before she replies.
Do you have bacon?
I don’t reply; instead, I send her a picture of the bacon and pancake ingredients.
She’s at my door in five minutes, her face fresh and clean without any makeup, her hair in a knot on top of her head. She’s in the boots I bought her and a pair of leggings, and when she takes off her jacket, I notice the sweatshirt is the one she stole from me after our night together.
It could be a coincidence, but that’s not Hallie’s style.
Everything Hallie does has an intention.
“Morning, Hallie,” I say with a grin. Her smile returns hesitantly as she walks toward me. She steps close enough so I can smell her toothpaste before hesitating, her tongue coming out to wet her lips.
“Where do we stand on good morning kisses?” she asks low.
I grin.
“Big fan,” I whisper, then put a hand to her waist and pull her into me.
I kiss her hard, but not deep. No parting of lips, no nipping of teeth.
Just her lips on mine, her body pressed tight.
Her hands on my neck hold me tight, and when I pull back, she pulls me in again for another, then another.
A series of five kisses, as if she can’t stop, as if she’s trying to sate that need brewing without pushing herself too far.
Eventually, she pulls back, and I rest my forehead against hers.
“Morning, Jesse,” she whispers.
“Let’s get you some coffee, baby,” I murmur, and she grins wide.
That night, she stays at my place after Emma goes to sleep, this time watching some comedy that I barely know what is happening in because at some point, we lie down on the couch, her head on my bicep, her back to my front.
All I can focus on is her soft, easy breaths, the occasional laugh, and the way it felt to have my entire world happy and safe and under one roof.
When the movie ends, she rolls, turning to face me, lifts a hand to cup my cheek, leans in for a soft, gentle kiss, then pulls away. We lay like that for a while, my hand wrapped around her waist to keep her close, our eyes locked.
“I want to make out with you,” she whispers.
“Then do it.”
“I don’t know if I’m ready for that.”
The words sound like a confession of sorts, and I lift a shoulder.
“Then don’t. I’m happy just lying here with you.”
Again, time passes, and she stares at me, trying to read past the walls that have long since been obliterated, before she speaks.
“You mean that, don’t you? Taking things slow, waiting me out?”
“Hallie, if this is all I ever get from you—long nights on the couch and sweet kisses and hearing you laugh—I’d be happy.”
Her nose scrunches up. “I wouldn’t,” she says, and I laugh.
“Good to know. When you’re ready for more, let me know. Or take it. I don’t care.”
Again, she stares, and again, I hold her gaze. Eventually, she nods, believing what she’s seeing and what I’m saying, then rests her head on my chest and lies there quietly.
That night, Hallie falls asleep on the couch with me, and even though it’s uncomfortable and I have to shake her awake at five to get her out of the house before Emma wakes up, since I know that’s what she would want, it’s the best night of sleep I’ve had in weeks.