Chapter 63 #2
I swallow, forcing myself to meet his eyes.
He looks tired, but he also looks whole for the first time since that night at the bar.
Instantly, visions of the blood, of his body hitting the ground, they attack my senses until it’s all I can see when I blink.
It overrides every thought in my head. I want to touch his face.
I want to stroke the outline of those bruises.
I want to apologize for the position I put us in.
We stare at each other, all the confusion and desperation seeping into those few, short seconds.
He knows how I feel. I told him. I did it to cut us both loose before it got too bad, before we got in too deep, and I still feel like it wasn’t quick enough.
My heart feels like he’s held it my whole life, like it’s always fit perfectly in his palm.
It feels like I gave up the greatest thing that I never knew I had, and I still have to see it in a shop window everyday when I pass, knowing I can’t have it back.
Boston sighs, fishing his phone out of his pocket. His fingers busy themselves for a couple of seconds before he places it on the coffee table, his eyes snapping back up to mine.
A familiar song starts playing quietly through the living room.
I smile, the memories of us in that bathroom replacing the memories of him being hurt. Just like that.
I angle my head, peering up at him as he stands. “I love this song. How did you know?”
He fights back a grin, but I see it there, tugging at the corner of his mouth. Instead, he holds out his hand. “Dance with me?”
My throat bobs. I look from his hand to his face. “What?”
“Please,” he whispers.
And of course I will. In any room. On any day. To any song. But to this one, especially.
I place my hand in his and let him lift me to my feet. I don’t look at him when he pulls me to his chest. I just hide, right against his body, which has always been my favourite shield. He gently winds his fingers around mine, his other hand sliding completely around my waist to tuck me in close.
My eyes flutter shut. I melt, and all the pain and heartbreak that comes with losing him takes over.
I don’t know what this means. I don’t know where we stand, or why he’s here, but he’s here.
He’s speaking to me, touching me, choosing to dance with me in an empty living room to The Goo Goo Dolls.
The rest of it won’t matter. I won’t let it.
Not for the duration of this song. I just want it to be him and me, this melody, and everything that could have been. At least for now.
I feel Boston’s heartbeat against my body.
It’s beating even faster than mine. I rest my head there, just for a moment, imagining what it would be like for this spot to become my personal real estate, somewhere I’m allowed to lay my head every night.
I’d never sell. It would be my home until I took my last breath.
Boston slides his hand from mine and winds both of them around my body instead. My stomach swoops and I hurriedly reach for him, wrapping my arms around his neck, pulling him close until we’re no longer dancing, we’re just hugging. Holding. Remembering.
“I regret a lot of things in my life,” he murmurs softly, right next to my ear, “but driving you home when you asked me to is what I regret the most.”
I slide my fingers through his hair. His fragmented breath makes my heart flutter.
“I was…scared, I think. I knew that if I didn’t, it was real, and we’d have to have that conversation with your brother. I’d have to quickly figure out what kind of man I want to be. What kind of man I am capable of being, and I didn’t want to have to make you wait while I sorted it out.”
My hands are shaking. I know he feels it against his neck, especially when he squeezes me tighter against him.
“I knew then, though, and I still took you home. I still said nothing. I’m…
trying to be braver. Like you. For you.” He lets out a little breath, his hand gliding up my back.
“I don’t know if I can be the man that you need me to be, Ari, but I want to try.
If you’ll give me another chance, I’m going to try my fucking hardest to be someone who deserves you. ”
My eyes are stinging. I slowly pull back, searching his face. “You want to be with me?”
His throat bobs. “In every possible way.”
A tear slips down my cheek and his eyes track it, his expression softening. He reaches up and cups my face, brushing it away with a stroke of his thumb. I lean gently into his touch, treasuring it.
He wants to be with me.
“I don’t know if that’s a good idea. My brother might not like it.”
He grins, shaking his head as he cups my face with both hands. “Shut up and kiss me, Ari.”
I do.
Oh boy, I do.
I push myself up on my toes and gently press my mouth to his.
His grip is tight on my face, like he’s determined to keep us together this time, like he won’t have it any other way.
I slide my hands down his chest as he deepens the kiss.
All the swear words that I know run through my mind at the feeling of him, the taste of him.
Familiar and wanted. My heart aches with fulfillment, remembering what it was missing, desperate not to miss it again.
Boston Black is the eighth wonder of the world.
Mightier than any statue. Stronger than any pyramid.
Brighter than any lighthouse. He takes your breath away, forces your eye, and makes you think.
Makes you want to know more about him, in that poetic way that art and architecture does.
He is to be marvelled at, and I will never stop.
I swear to you. I will never stop.
He pulls back, pressing his forehead to mine, his thumb brushing my cheek. “You gonna tell me again, sweetheart?”
I blink, running my tongue over my lip. His gaze drops to the movement. “Tell you what?”
“Those pretty words that I’ve been dying to hear.”
I meet his eyes. “I’m not sure what words you’re referring to.”
He smiles, happy to fall back into one of our little games. He kisses me, letting it linger, and he waits, just far enough away so I can’t kiss him again.
His throat bobs, stare burning into mine. He whispers, “Tell me.”
I suck in a small breath, feeling very vulnerable. Terrified. Safe. “I love you, Boston Black.”
The smile that hits his mouth then is so sweet that I feel like falling to my knees. I feel like crying. I feel like praying. It’s genuine happiness that I see there. Relief.
“I am beyond in love with you, too.”
My eyes flutter shut. A man who once promised he was not built to love anyone has somehow decided that he loves me.
So, that’s how that feels. Knowing someone means what they’re saying. Knowing someone feels the same way. Being in love rather than just falling into it. Like a burst of serotonin. Like a headrush. Like someone stealing your breath right out of your body and sending it up to the clouds.
His lips find my forehead, and he tugs me to his chest, cupping his hand around the back of my head.
He loves me.
Boston Black loves me!
I’m officially the most powerful woman in the world.
I bury my face in his chest, inhaling the scent of him. “When did you realize?”
“I don’t know,” he murmurs, kissing my hair now. “Probably about the time you stormed onto the ice in ten-inch heels and introduced yourself to me.”
I snort. “Liar.”
He chuckles, running his hand down my hair. “On that roof, I think. When I got my first glimpse behind the curtain.”
When I was a mess. When I was overwhelmed about what I didn’t have, and what I’d lost. When I was, for the first time in a long time, brutally honest about being afraid. About being disappointed in myself. About not being certain I was as great as I pretend to be.
“I’m guessing you talked to my brother.”
“I did,” he says quietly. “Thanks for sticking up for me.”
I squeeze him tighter. Those memories again, they flood in. Their fight at the bar. Our fight in the kitchen. All of those things I screamed at Carter, reminding him who his friend is. Reminding him that they’re so close because Boston is a good man. A good person. A great friend.
“Did he apologize?”
Boston nods against my hair. “Profusely.”
“Good. I’ll take him off my hit list, then.”
“Come on,” he grumbles, pulling back to look at me. “You’d never harm a single hair on his crazy head.”
That isn’t true, is it? I stood between Boston and my brother armed with a shard of glass.
A weapon. Now, you and I both know that I would have never used it, but I still held it like I would have.
I still threatened to. I actively pursued Boston, too, got what I wanted, and then pursued him some more, knowing it would hurt my brother.
His smile slowly fades, as if reading my thoughts. “You wouldn’t. Not intentionally.”
I offer a gentle smile. “He’s okay with this?”
Boston dips his cup, cupping my jaw with both hands. “He’s okay with this.”
“You’re okay with this?” I ask.
He nods, leaning in closer and brushing his lips against mine. “Yeah, sweetheart. I am.”
“And you love me?”
He smiles against my mouth, kissing me for real this time. “Yeah, sweetheart. I do.”
“And you will do everything I ask for the rest of my life?”
He kisses me again. “Sure, Ari. Whatever you want.”
I grin, hauling myself to his mouth, making him kiss me like he loves me.
I wind my arms around his neck, and Boston groans against my lips.
His hands slide to rest right above my ass, lazy but possessive.
I don’t know if I can convey to you how badly I’ve been starved for his touch.
On all the slopes of my body and divots of my skin, the parts of me that only he has ever managed to touch. My heart, most of all.
I pull back, keeping my face close and he slowly opens his eyes.
“If I ask you a question nicely—”
“Don’t waste your breath. The answer is yes,” he grumbles, kissing me in that feverish way that one does when they absolutely want to fuck someone after they ask nicely. I didn’t even have to ask this time.