Chapter 43
Jase
I wish I’d told you about Sam before. And I wish that you could have met him.
—Jase
I wake up to someone gently stroking my temples. My eyes flutter open. Zoe is lying close to me, looking at me with a mixture of concern and warmth. Dim light filters through the curtains, bright enough for me to see the guilty expression on her face when she realizes I’m awake.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you up.”
I reach for her hand as she tries to pull it back, first kissing it and then returning it to my temple. “That’s all right. It’s a nice way to wake up.” I smile faintly as Zoe strokes my skin again. I’m so exhausted.
“How do you feel?” Her voice is soft and gentle, and my eyes close again of their own accord. I don’t want her to ask me any questions. I want her to keep talking and tell me something so I can listen to her without having to think.
“Hungover,” I reply as the throbbing starts behind my eyes. My stomach is also pretty numb. “Tired. Empty.”
Alone.
But that’s bullshit, isn’t it? I’m not alone. She’s here. She’s here, caressing my skin and running her hands through my hair.
“Jase? Look at me.”
Reluctantly, I open my eyes. This time, there’s something in her gaze that I can’t interpret. Something deep and intense.
“I’m here, okay?” she says, as though she can read my mind. I remember she said the same thing last night, and I didn’t answer.
“Okay,” I reply, because I want her to be here.
And I never want her to leave again. This thing between us is the only thing that has made sense in the last few weeks.
Fuck, no, in the last year. The only thing that even came close to feeling right.
“Don’t push me away again.” The words come out as a soft whisper, a plea, and I want to take them right back because they’re so weak and pathetic.
But I am weak, and I’m not strong enough to pretend I’m not.
Her eyes go wide, and a familiar pain flashes in them. “I promise.” She slides closer to me, slipping one leg between mine and burying her face against my chest. “I’m sorry I let you down last year,” she murmurs into my T-shirt.
“And I’m sorry that someone hurt you,” I whisper into her hair.
“I’m sorry that your parents are assholes.”
She looks up, gazing at me with wet eyes, and my throat tightens. I swallow heavily. If she starts to cry, I probably will too. But she doesn’t. She kisses me gently, and it makes me feel safe.
I pull away to look at her. There’s an unspoken question in her eyes. I have one too, and I can’t resist it. Not anymore. “What is this thing between us?”
I realize as I ask that I already know the answer. Because it started ages ago. Because even as everything was complicated and awful, it was also real and right.
Zoe smiles, and my heart skips a beat.
“Everything.”