I’ve never lied to Stephanie. It’s one thing that I’ve always prided myself on. I tell her the truth, consequences be damned. Words matter and promises are meant to be kept.
“I promise to try.”
Stephanie’s eyes narrow. “Try?”
“Yes, I’ll try to be open. I’ll try to let Eli in a little, or if not him, some other jackass who will only fuck with my head.”
That’s really what it comes down to . . . men are liars. They say they’re one thing and they never are. Matt said he loved me, that he’d honor and cherish me, and the first time shit got rough, he bailed. Cherish my ass.
“I swear, the older you get, the more dramatic you are. I think he’s different.”
“Based on all your time with him?” I challenge. She’s never met him, so I don’t know why she’s so quick to defend him. Maybe because he’s the first guy to actually try since Matt.
“No, based on the way your face lights up when you say his name.”
I don’t do that, do I? No. I don’t think I do.
She laughs and points at my face. “You even do it when you think of him.”
“Whatever.” I’m going to have to work on that. I really hope he doesn’t notice. He’s good at getting me to do things as it is, if he has a read on me, I’m screwed. I think back to our last date and how sweet he was. Not many guys turn down a chance to get laid, but he did. I fell a little bit for him in that moment.
It was the first time in a long time that anyone put my needs above their own. I’m usually the one who has to sacrifice, and it was nice to have the shoe go on the other foot.
“Earth to Heather!” She waves her hand in my face.
“Sorry, I was just thinking.”
“Uh-huh. Can you help me?” Stephanie asks.
My arm hooks under hers, and she slowly climbs out of bed. For the last month, her physical therapist has been pushing her to use her muscles as much as possible. She was in a wheelchair for four months, and with a lot of work, she was able to walk a little with the walker. That progress seems to be deteriorating as well. She sits up and stretches her limbs.
I watch my baby sister bite down whatever discomfort she’s feeling and get to her feet with shaky legs. I quickly move to support her. Her eyes say everything her voice doesn’t. The appreciation that I’m here and sorrow that she needs me shines as bright as the full moon outside the window. She and I take a few steps and grab the walker. We move without hurry through the halls as she tells me more about Anthony.
After another hour, I can see the exhaustion settling into her features.
“I’m going to head home. Can I see you tomorrow?” I know that I’m spending the day with Eli, but I need to see her. After the conversation earlier, I think we are both coming to grips with the future. My mother used to tell us to hold on to the things we can control and let everything else go. She insisted that wasting time was never a good thing. She was right. I can’t control Steph’s disease, but I can control how I handle the time we have left together. I’m going to make the most of it, cherish it, and hope I don’t break when it ends.
Steph smiles and touches my arm. “I think that can be arranged.”
“Do you think on our next date we can do something in the afternoon?” I ask Eli, who’s standing in my living room while I pour another mug of coffee. Last night was tough. I couldn’t fall asleep until after two, and not wanting to look like crap, I was up early fixing my face.
“Oh, we’re going on another date?” Mischief is laced in his deep voice. “I thought you weren’t into me? I thought you friend-zoned me? I knew you couldn’t resist.”
I walk out of the kitchen and roll my eyes. Damn him and all his arrogance. “You’re the one who keeps calling these dates and showing up at my house. If anyone is into anyone . . . it’s you who is into me.”
There. Take that. I’m not chasing him, and I’m going to remind him of that.
He shrugs and pulls me against him. “I’ve never hidden the fact that I’m into you.”
My arms rest on his shoulders, and I smile. “Sometimes I still think this is a dream.”
“Would you believe me if I said I feel the same, too?”
I shake my head, because I can’t see why he’d think that. Eli is the dream come true. He’s the wish upon a star that girls spend their nights hoping for. Yet, he’s in my living room. I can’t tell you the nights I would dream about this very thing happening.
“Well, I keep waiting to find something about you that I don’t like, but even the things that would normally annoy me, like trying to push me away so damn hard, only make me want you more. I’m just glad you’re starting to cave.”
“Who said I’m caving?” I goad him a bit. I enjoy our banter.
“I’d say the boat was a good indication I’m no longer friend-zoned.”
“I can put you back there if you’d like?”
Not that whatever we’re doing is serious. It’s only been two dates and one hell of a night. But it’s definitely more than friends. I mean, Brody is my friend, and we sure as hell don’t rip each other’s clothes off. We’ve gone fishing, and not once did I end up grinding against him.
Eli’s arms tighten, forcing my body to be even closer to his. “I don’t think I was ever there, and I don’t think friends do this.”
In an instant, his lips press against mine, and the flutter in my belly grows stronger. Eli’s musky cologne envelops me, and I commit it to memory. I want to remember each detail regarding this moment. How his lips feel against mine, the way the callus on his thumb roughly grazes the skin on my cheek, and how he tastes. It’s cinnamon and the hint of toothpaste. If this doesn’t work out, I’ll have this memory to hold on to.
His tongue seeks entrance, and I give it willingly. I don’t even pretend to fight him. I want it. When he touches me, I can’t help but find myself craving everything he’ll give. I tell myself, and everyone else, that there’s nothing here, but when he’s close, I can’t pretend. Eli breathes life into a heart that was deflated. A heart that never thought it would beat again is once again thumping at a steady pace.
He kisses me hard, forcing my feet to move with him. My back presses against the wall, and he pours himself into each movement. I’m trapped between the cool wood panel and the heat of Eli’s body.
Everything is a contrast between wanting more from him and wanting things to end before it’s too late to walk away.
I need him to leave, but I’m desperate for him to stay.
I say there’s nothing between us, and yet the idea of him leaving is enough to make me scream.
I drop the mug to the floor, not caring that it shatters. My fingers grip his neck as I hold his lips to mine.
I drown in this kiss.
I die in this kiss.
I come to life in this kiss.
Eli pulls back and gives me a cocky smirk. “Do your friends kiss you like that?”
Instead of telling him the truth—that no one kisses me like that—I inhale and then sigh. “You know, I’m not even sure that was a kiss. It felt . . . a little . . . weak.”