23 #3
We smiled at each other, and it was quiet in the strangest way. Not empty. Not tense. Just us breathing in the same room after too many months of turning every breath into proof of something worse.
Aura’s gaze dropped to my hand again. “Does it hurt?”
“My hand?”
“No, Easton. Your aura.”
I gave her a look.
She blinked. “Sorry. My name makes that sentence difficult.”
“My hand hurts less than my pride.”
“Your pride needed a parole hearing.”
“Rude.”
“I’ll handle it.”
“Don’t.”
I frowned at her. “Don’t what?”
“Don’t shut me out of it and call that noble.” She sat up a little, the sheet tucked around her, her hair falling over one shoulder. “If we’re doing this, if we’re actually doing this, you don’t get to decide that your problems are too heavy for me. You carried mine tonight. I can carry yours too.”
I stared at her.
She looked nervous, but she didn’t back down.
“I’m not saying I can fix it,” she said. “I’m not Cade with a black card or your coach. I’m not your mom. But I can sit beside you when things are ugly for you.”
My throat tightened.
“You want help with class notes while you’re overwhelmed from practice and spiraling? I’ll help. You want someone to tell you not to text Maddox something incriminating? I’m excellent at confiscating phones.”
“You’d be terrifying in that role.”
“I was born for it.”
“You’d read my texts.”
“For legal quality control.”
“Absolutely not.”
“Then don’t commit crimes in writing.”
I shook my head, but I was smiling again. “You’re bossy.”
“You like it.”
“I do.”
Her smile dimmed into something softer. “Let me stand in daylight with you.”
The words hit harder than they should have, maybe because she knew exactly where to place them.
I pulled her closer until she was half in my lap, sheet and all. “That’s all I wanted.”
“I know.”
“I wanted coffee. Dinners. You at my games without pretending you were only there for Bliss. You in my truck with your lip gloss in my passenger visor. You knowing my mom’s name and my sisters’ weird habits. You stealing my hoodies in public instead of vanishing before morning.”
Her eyes turned glassy. “I was an idiot.”
“You were scared.”
“I was both.”
I nodded. “Yeah. You were both.”
She looked at me for a long moment. “You’re not going to let me make myself the villain to make this simpler, are you?”
“No.”
“That’s inconvenient.”
“I’m a complex man.”
“You are a wet hockey player with maternal wisdom and a body that looks sculpted.”
“Complex.”
“Fine.”
I kissed her forehead.
She melted into me with a sigh that made my chest ache.
“East?”
“Yeah?”
“When we tell Bliss and Charm we’re doing this, Bliss is going to cry.”
“Obviously.”
“Charm will pretend she isn’t crying.”
“Also obvious.”
“Ryan will make a face.”
“Ryan always makes a face.”
“Briggs might throw confetti.”
“Briggs has emergency confetti in his car.”
Aura lifted her head. “He does not.”
“He does.”
“Why?”
“He said morale requires supplies.”
She stared at me. “Your team is deeply unwell.”
“I know.”
“I like them.”
“They like you.”
Her expression shifted. “Not all of them.”
“The ones who matter.”
She lay back against my chest. “Cade?”
“Cade is careful with you.”
“That is not an answer.”
“It is the answer.” I smoothed my hand over her braids. “He loves Bliss. Bliss loves you. That means he gives a shit, even when he wants to throttle both of us for making his life complicated.”
“I do make his life complicated.”
“He likes a project. You’re basically a hobby.”
She laughed into my chest. “Don’t tell him that.”
“I might.”
“You’re cruel.”
“Working on it.”
Her fingers slid over my ribs again. “Are you really staying?”
I looked down at her. “Do you want me to?”
“Yes.”
“Then yes.”
“No dramatic exit?”
“Not tonight.”
“No saying something devastating and walking into the rain like a tortured blond menace?”
“My hoodie is already wet. The performance would be redundant.”
She laughed softly, then tilted her face up. “Good.”
I kissed her. Slow. Deep. No anger. No punishment. Just her mouth beneath mine and the quiet sound she made when she stopped bracing for impact.
When I pulled back, her eyes were heavy and warm.
“Your lips are less blue,” she said.
“Romantic.”
“I monitor circulation in men I love.”
My chest tightened.
She caught it and smiled carefully. “Too much?”
“No.” I brushed my thumb over her cheek. “Say it as much as you want.”
“I love you.”
I closed my eyes for one second and let it land somewhere it didn’t hurt as much.
When I opened them, she was watching me like she still didn’t trust the room to hold it.
“I love you too,” I said. “And before you make a joke, I need you to let that be serious for three seconds.”
Her mouth pressed together.
I watched the fight to behave move across her face and almost lost it.
“One,” she whispered.
“Aura.”
“Two.”
“You’re impossible.”
“Three.” She smiled, soft and terrible. “Okay, now I can function.”
I rolled her beneath me, careful with the sheet but not careful enough to hide what she did to me. She laughed as her back hit the pillows, and the sound slid straight beneath my skin.
I braced my arms on either side of her head. “You think you’re funny.”
“I know I’m funny.”
“You’re a menace.”
“You’re still here.”
“Yeah,” I said, lowering my mouth to hers. “I am.”