Chapter 15 #2
“I can drive if you want.”
“No, that’s fine. I can drive,” Henry declares.
“Okay,” I reply hesitantly while following him to his Prius. “Do you know where we’re going?”
“It’s a brewery on the outskirts of town. Knox said it’s called Whistle & Barrel Brewing Co. Do you know it?”
“Yes,” I smile. If it was within a twenty-mile radius, I knew about it. Wren and I weren’t big fans of IPAs, so we rarely went to the brewery unless Blake wanted to go.
“Perfect. You can be my GPS then.” He winks.
I coolly respond with another friendly smile and wait for him to move so I can open the passenger-side door.
Unexpectedly, Henry reaches behind him and opens the door for me.
Thankfully, he’s not close enough to hear my heart banging against my chest. I reach for the words to thank him, but they are caught in my throat.
Finally, I muster up a thank you, and Henry nods before closing the door behind me and walking to the other side of the car.
When I get into the compact vehicle, I’m surprised at how much room there is. Having seen his apartment, I’m not entirely shocked at how clean the space is. My apartment and car probably made his skin crawl, but if it did, he was good at hiding it.
The car also reminds me of his apartment because it’s devoid of personality. I look at the pocket of the side door, and it’s spotless. The only thing that separates this vehicle from something you’d test drive on a car lot are the rosary beads hanging from his mirror.
When Henry gets into the car, he immediately starts the ignition, but before he can put the car in drive, I ask, “What are those?”
Henry’s face lights up when he looks at the beads, and I can tell they hold a special memory.
“They’re rosary beads. I’m not a practicing Catholic, but my abuela gave them to me when I was younger, and they’ve always been special to me.
She passed a few years ago, and seeing them every day makes me feel like she’s still here in one way or another. ”
“I’m sorry for your loss. I used to be really close to my Nana,” I say, with a bitter tone seeping through my words.
“I remember you talking about her. She’s the reason you got your hummingbird tattoo, right?”
“Yes.” I smile. I can’t believe he remembered.
“I want to get something for my abuela, but I’m not sure what I want yet. It’s hard to encapsulate an entire person with one tattoo. I could dedicate an entire sleeve to her.”
The thought of Henry with a tattoo sleeve plants a smile on my face. “I’m having a hard time imagining you with a sleeve.”
“You don’t think I could pull it off,” he challenges before finally putting the car in drive. “I think I could totally pull it off.”
I laugh and shake my head. “I think you might be too powerful. A funny and smart guy with sexy tattoos? Sounds like pure cat nip.”
“Now that I know you think tattoos are sexy, I may have to consider it.”
“I can’t believe we lost,” Knox exclaims frustratedly across the table.
I roll my eyes and silently sip the wine in front of me. The truth is Henry was the only one who knew any of the answers. Knox and I were both useless. He kept leaning over to the tall brunette at the table next to us, and I couldn’t focus on anything other than Henry’s thigh pressing against mine.
All night, I kept catching Henry’s eyes wandering where they shouldn’t. There was a palpable shift in the air, and it felt like a cloud of electricity was hovering above us, threatening to zap me at any moment.
Then, there was a new level of attraction I was experiencing for the first time, and it had nothing to do with our kiss. Whenever Henry’s hand would excitingly shoot up in the air, it made my heart beat faster and my throat dry. I knew Henry was smart, I just didn’t know it was a turn-on for me.
More than anything, I think it was the way his face lit up when something clicked inside his head.
His eyes would widen with a sparkle that shined brightly behind his glasses.
His mouth would twitch into a small, satisfied smile that made me lean in and pray for more days when I could simply watch him.
His aura was contagious, and I wanted to soak up every ounce.
“We placed second, which is a miracle,” Henry scoffs, crossing his arms. Shortly after the game started, he rolled up the sleeves of his henley to his elbows, and I had to stop my eyes from hovering over his forearms.
“You’re right, brother,” Knox agrees. “Thank you for coming. I might have been stretching the truth when I said I was undefeated. But on the plus side, I might not be such a sore loser after all. Abby and I are going to go grab a drink at the bar.”
Henry simply shakes his head and replies, “You’re welcome.” We sit silently as Knox grabs the brunette at the next table and guides her to the bar across the room.
“So, what now, Pajarito? Do you want another drink, or are you ready to call it a night?”
I already know the answer, but I stop myself before answering too eagerly. It’s a little after nine, and for once, I’m not dying to go home and go to bed. Well, not for the usual reasons, anyway.
“I could go for another drink.”
“Sounds good.” He smiles before picking up my glass. “I’ll go grab our drinks. Do you want to find a spot at one of the tables outside? It’s a little loud in here.”
Henry was right. The brewery we were at was in full swing on a small-town Saturday night. It made my heart ache for the Rustic Inn on the other side of town, but it took a lot more than a trendy brewery to hurt a community staple.
When Henry heads toward the bar, I take a moment to admire how good his ass looks in the jeans he decided to wear out tonight.
It was rare to see Henry Castillo in anything besides slacks and a button-up, and I had a front-row seat tonight.
I loved Professor Castillo, but I also enjoyed his casual look.
It was hard to decide which was my favorite.
I smile to myself while standing up and grabbing my purse to head outside.
I find a small table on the patio, the evening chill making me hug my arms tightly against my body.
Fairy lights are strung overhead the small area and cast a beautiful glow, the hum of distant conversations creating a soothing backdrop.
I settle into one of the cold metal chairs and prepare myself for the conversation I need to have with Henry.
I have to think about how he fit into my life—and how he fit into Milo’s life.
It was a constant inner battle I’d been having with myself since I met Henry.
Although that battle seems more unanimous now that I know what his lips feel like on mine.
It doesn’t take long before I hear the door swing open, and Henry steps out, carrying our drinks. He’s grinning, but there’s something more to his expression. My stomach sinks.
“Here we go,” he says, setting my glass in front of me and settling into the chair across the table.
“Thank you.” I smile, feeling my cheeks perk up from the wine starting to settle into my body.
For a moment, we sip in silence. I know we’re both thinking about the same thing—the kiss we haven’t spoken about and the way it hovers like a secret between us.
Henry breaks the silence first. “Emma,” His voice is soft yet hesitant. He sets his glass down and leans forward. “We need to talk.”
I nod, my chest tightening. “Yeah, I know.”
He exhales, now leaning back in his chair. “I can’t stop thinking about the kiss. About you.” His words are straightforward, but a raw honesty in them steals my breath away.
My face flushes, and I take a quick sip of my wine. The heat of the moment is still fresh in my mind.
“Emma, I like you. I have for a while now.”
The confession hits me harder than I expected it to. “Henry.”
“I know it’s complicated,” he continues. “I know you’ve got Milo and school and everything else. I didn’t plan on this. I didn’t plan on you. I was fine with being friends, but after that kiss—” He pauses, his gaze locking with mine. “I can’t pretend I don’t feel something—something real.”
My heart pounds, torn between fear and my undeniable pull toward him. “I like you too, Henry. But it is complicated. You’re leaving at the end of the summer, and that doesn’t give us much time to figure out what this is.”
Much like that night at the library, the determination in Henry’s expression doesn’t waver.
“I know, and that’s a valid concern,” he says, leaning in closer.
“But I don’t want to walk away from this because the timing isn’t right.
If I only have a few more weeks left to spend in Honey Grove, I want to spend them with you. ”
My mind doesn’t glaze over the fact that his answer has holes, but his words sink into the soft part of my heart that’s been guarded for so long. I didn’t want to walk away from this either.
“Henry, I—” I begin, but he cuts me off.
“You don’t have to say anything right now,” he says quickly. “Honestly, I wasn’t sure if I’d be able to feel this way again. It’s been a long time.”
“Since you’ve been in a relationship,” I say, finishing his thought for him.
“Yeah,” he says hesitantly before running his hand through his tousled curls.
“I was in this serious relationship in my early twenties, and it really fucked with my head. She was older and I was completely enamored by her. She made me feel like I was special and more mature than everyone else my age. At the time, I didn’t know people like that—narcissists—look for others with low self-esteem that they can take advantage of.
Let’s just say it did not end well at first.”
“At first?”
“Yeah, we had to figure out a way to be cordial because she also works in the publishing industry. It became very tedious to avoid her after a while.”
“She’s also a writer?” I question, unable to help myself.
“No,” he says, trailing off. His eyes drift from mine and I can tell he’s trying to navigate through his memories. Or he’s trying to hide something. “She’s a literary agent. She helps writers sell their books to publishers.”
I nod slowly and my mouth morphs into an “O” shape. “So, you’re still friends?”
“I wouldn’t say friends,” he says, guiding his eyes back to mine. “I’m sorry. I wanted to talk about us, not her.”
Henry is silent for a moment, pulling himself back into our conversation before it gets derailed. There’s a sinking feeling in my gut, but the way his eyes pin me in place makes it hard to focus on anything but him.
“I just don’t want that kiss to be the last one. I want to take you out on a real date. No distractions, no work. Just you and me.”
Every instinct I have screamed to back away and play it safe. Obviously, his past relationship still weighs heavily on his heart. But the fact that he was able to open up about it makes it easier to lean into the glimmer of hope I feel when I’m with him.
“Yes,” I whisper, not comprehending the weight of my answer. “I’ll go out with you.”
His face lights up. There's a mixture of relief and joy that makes my chest ache in the best way. “Really?”
“Really,” I reply with a small smile. “But if you quiz me on random trivia facts, the date is off.”
He laughs. The deep, genuine sound makes me forget about the goosebumps covering my skin. “Noted. No trivia.”
We fall into an easy silence, the electricity between us no longer a storm cloud but something lighter. For the first time in a long time, I feel like I’m exactly where I’m supposed to be.