Текст книги "Falling "

Автор книги: E. K. Blair

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Текущая страница: 10 (всего у книги 29 страниц)

It doesn’t take too long before Candace is walking down in a black sleeveless top and a pair of pajama pants. She has no clue how sexy she looks right now, and I have to look away. I open the fridge to grab a bottle of water.

“You mind if I take the floor?” she asks.

“You sure?”

“Yeah. It looks more comfortable anyway.”

“Okay.”

She sits down and slides herself under the pile of blankets as I walk over and sit next to her. The thought of sleeping, even in the same room as her, has me on edge. It’s like dangling a piece of meat in front of a starved animal. It’s life’s sick revenge for taking things way too easily and now making me restrain myself in the worst way possible because I’ve never wanted anything more.

“TCM?” I ask as I flick on the TV.

“It’s all we ever watch,” she teases, and I like it. “Why switch now?”

“I think you’re starting to like my movies.”

“Maybe.”

We sit back and start watching a movie before I ask her, “Were you okay today?”

“I was. You’re really lucky; you have a great family.”

“Well, everyone really likes you, especially my mom.”

“She’s really nice. We had some time to visit earlier.”

She starts to grow tired as she inches herself under the covers and lays her head on the pillow by my side. When I look down at her, she has her eyes closed. Knowing she’s still awake, I don’t let that stop me from running my fingers through her hair.

I continue to do this as I zone out on the TV. My mind can’t even focus, and when I hear her breathing steady, I slip my hand under her head and gently move her to my lap. When I do this, she unconsciously wraps her one arm around my waist, and with greed, I savor the contact.

She seemed to enjoy herself today, and I’m grateful that I was able to give this to her since yesterday went horribly wrong, having to walk away from the only blood family she knows. The reactions she sparks in me are intense, and I know I need to heed Tori’s advice and be honest with her—soon. But I take this moment and just relish her being so close to me.

I don’t want to fall asleep, but when my eyes grow too heavy for me to fight, I reluctantly slip myself out from underneath her, laying her head back down on the pillow, and find myself alone on the couch. I lie there, across the room, the only hint of light coming from the last sparks of fire in the fireplace. It’s enough of a glow that I can still watch her, so that’s what I do—I watch her as she sleeps until I finally drift off.

My eyes shoot open when I hear a hard gasp of air. Candace is panicked, trying to catch her breath as her body thrashes awake. I lurch off of the couch, and I’m by her side in an instant, pulling her into my arms.

“You okay?”

Her body is stiff with tension as she shakes under my hold.

“What happened, babe?”

“Bad dream,” she quietly whispers through her erratic breaths.

“Slow your breathing down, okay?” I tell her as I hold her against my chest. I’m slightly disoriented, still in a haze as my head catches up to my body’s sudden alertness. When she wraps her arms around my waist, I begin to rub her back, trying to soothe her from her nightmare. She scared the shit out of me, yanking me out of a deep sleep.

I can start to feel her breathing slow down, and when it does, I ask, “Wanna talk about it?” curious as to what she was dreaming about that caused her that much panic.

She shakes her head no against me, and I keep her folded in my arms as I lower us down and pull the blankets over us. Face to face, her eyes shift up to mine. I have her tucked tightly to me as she begins to get her breathing under control and relaxes. I don’t want to think about what’s in her head that’s clearly tormenting her because looking at her as she peers up at me with her hazel eyes is all I want to focus on. I can’t read her expression, but right now, I try not to decode her. I just take her in. I feel the build-up beating inside of me, and I can’t keep it in any longer.

I want her.

I run my hand over her forehead and down to her cheek where I keep it. I study every detail about her, and her breathing increases slightly along with mine. I know she feels it. Feels what I want. I don’t even need to say anything because the attraction is that palpable. Her brow twitches when she slides her small hand over my cheek and rests it there. Wrapped up in each other—close—I scan her face for a sign. Permission. For anything that tells me this is okay.

I can tell she’s scared. I can tell she doesn’t know if she wants this—wants me. God, I just want to kiss her. But more than that, I want her to kiss me. I want her to want it as badly as I do, and when my eyes find hers again, she gives me the slightest nod of her head, and I’ve never felt so relieved in my life.

She wants me.

Knowing that I’ll want more than she’ll give me, I move slow, needing this to last for as long as she’ll let it. Her eyes fall shut and she begins to tremble. I hate that she’s scared of this when it feels so right to me, but I’m determined to take her apprehension about this away as I softly press my lips to hers.

I’m gone. I knew I would be.

My heart thuds hard as I tighten my grip on her, needing her as close to me as I can get her. I kiss her slowly, and when she finally relaxes and begins to move her lips with mine, I take more. I can’t help myself. I drag my tongue across her lip, smooth, soft. She’s the sweetest thing I’ve ever tasted. Threading my hand in her hair, pressing her body into mine, she wraps her hands up from underneath my arms and braces them tightly on my shoulders.

A soft whimper breaks from her, but she never takes her lips from mine. She has me, and I’m fuckin’ lost in her right now. I’ve never had the ties of emotion with a girl, so to say this one has me bound would be an understatement. What she gives me is something I never even knew I needed, so I never even looked for it.

Moving us off of our sides, I roll on top of her, and I feel her soften beneath me. She runs her hands down my shoulders and grips my forearms tightly as I gently nip her lip before she allows me to dip my tongue inside of her mouth. I linger, moving slowly, needing to feel as much of her as I can. She caresses my tongue with hers, and having her like this, giving this to me like she is, I know I have to make her mine because I’m never gonna want to let her go.

But when she pushes her hands against my arms, everything is questionable again as she pulls away from me.

“I’m sorry,” she whispers, eyes still closed.

Tucking my arm underneath her, I speak quietly. “Look at me, Candace.” I brush the back of my fingers along the soft skin of her face. When she finally opens her eyes and looks up at me, I say, “I don’t want you to feel sorry for that.”

She lets out a small hum as she slowly nods her head, but it’s when she slides her arms around my back, holding on to me, that I begin to calm. I rest my forehead on hers and breathe her in, taking all I can. I feel her head shift as she tilts her chin up, and this time, I don’t have to take. She lifts up and melds her lips with mine, and I slowly fall into her touch as she holds my face in her warm hands, keeping me close to her.

When I finally drag my lips off of hers, she stays close, and I keep her that way until she falls asleep. I watch her; I can’t help myself. I have her arms around me and spend a lengthy amount of time stroking her back, touching the bare skin along her neck, her arms, her jaw, before falling asleep with her.

I’m awake. She’s doesn’t know it because I’m greedy and don’t want to move away from her. She woke up a few minutes ago, but I lie here with my eyes closed, arm around her, legs tangled with hers. It feels too good to disrupt, so I don’t.

I wonder how she’s feeling after last night. A thousand questions start to rack my brain, and now I fear that I’ll never get that again. So for now, I pretend to sleep.

“Night night over,” I hear Bailey’s voice declare, and I know the pretending is done.

“It’s not over, Bailey,” I mumble, just wanting a few more minutes with Candace. I feel her shift, but I keep my eyes shut, and I know I’m busted. I don’t care though.

“I eat bweakfast. Night night over.”

“Okay,” Candace whispers and begins to slip out from my hold, but I tighten my arm around her and pull her back to me.

“Where are you going?” I ask, finally opening my eyes.

“To go get her something to eat.”

She slides out of the blankets, and I can only hope that I’ll be able to get her in my sheets again. That I can continue to have her like I did last night.

I roll over and watch as she settles Bailey with a bowl of cereal. Getting up, I make my way into the kitchen to start a pot of coffee while Candace busies herself with Bailey, peeling a banana for her.

“Want some?” I ask as she walks back into the kitchen.

She keeps her eyes down and gives me a nod. Fuck. She doesn’t want to look at me. She’s embarrassed. Nervous. Not what I was wanting.

“Umm, I’m gonna sneak upstairs and get cleaned up,” she says as I rip open a packet of sugar for her coffee.

After I stir in the cream, I hand the mug to her, and she finally meets my eyes. Timid. She quietly thanks me and stands there for a moment, staring at the steam floating off of the coffee. I’m scared to know what she’s thinking so intently about, but I ask anyway.

“Hey. You okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine. I just want to get ready before everyone wakes up.”

“Okay.”

I know she just really needs to get space from me, and I have no choice but to accept it as I watch her head upstairs to my room.

I wander over and sit down next to Bailey at the table as she smacks on her cereal. Nursing my cup of coffee, I decide that I’m not gonna let her shut down. I don’t want her feeling uncomfortable, so I’ll get her out of the house and take her to one of my favorite places. I need to talk with her. Be honest. Let her know where how I’m feeling because if I don’t, then she’s just gonna continue to feel awkward for the next couple of days that we’re here. I try to not think about what she’s going to say. None of this is in my control and not having that power is unsettling.

Looking up, I see Tori walking in.

“What are you guys doing up?” she asks as she pulls down a mug.

“Your little rugrat was hungry and snuck downstairs,” I tell her as I give Bailey a wink before I stand up. “I’m gonna go get ready.”

When I walk upstairs, Maddie is still asleep, and I can hear the shower running as I grab some clothes out of the dresser and closet and then go to one of the downstairs guest bathrooms to shower.

She still isn’t downstairs when I’m ready. I pass by the kitchen, which is loud as everyone is making breakfast and visiting. When I spot Maddie, I decide to go up and check on Candace.

The bathroom door is closed and the smell of her shower fills the room, intoxicating me, making this more agonizing. But I suck it up because I don’t want to make her uncomfortable with how strongly I’m feeling about all of this.

When I knock on the door, she says, “Come in.”

She stands there in a pair of jeans and one of her college sweatshirts, hair stacked on top of her head, applying her lipgloss. I slide up next to her, leaning back against the counter, and watch. Grab her. Touch her. Kiss her. I shake my scrambling thoughts as she tosses her things into her small bag, and avoids acknowledging me. But when she moves to walk past me, I grab her by the waist and pull her to me, asking, “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing. Really,” she lies, shutting me out.

Looking at her, watching that tick of her brow, I ask, “You wanna get out of here for a while?”

She doesn’t miss a second when she nods her head. Relief. She doesn’t want to stay away from me.

I slide my hand down her wrist and hold her hand, but this time, I lace my fingers with hers, holding her differently—needing to—and head out.

It’s rainy this morning as I drive through the narrow, winding road in Ecola Park. I’ve always loved this area, dense with lush, tall trees and deep cliffs. I try to focus on the surroundings, but I can’t escape my nerves. This is all new to me. I’ve never done this before, and I don’t know what the fuck I’m gonna say. All I know is that I want her.

I park the jeep and grab one of my raincoats from the back seat for her to put on.

“Here, wear this,” I tell her as she takes it from me, and starts slipping it on.

We get out, and I hold her hand again as I walk her down the old wooden stairs that lead down to Indian Beach. The wind is hitting hard as it mixes with the rain. It’s cold, but I love this type of weather. Walking along the packed, wet sand of the beach, I hold on to her as we step over the piles of smooth, black rocks to some logs of driftwood that sit back from the water. We sit down on one of the logs, and I watch Candace as she takes in the view. She has the hood popped up over her head. I like seeing her in my clothes, even if it’s an oversized raincoat.

I wrap my arm around her, and when I do, she speaks.

“This is amazing.”

“Yeah, I love it out here. I used to surf here a lot growing up.”

She looks out at the hard-hitting waves, her cheeks already pink from the chill. My heart is racing, and I know it won’t stop until I talk to her.

“Candace,” I say as I turn, kicking my leg over the log to face her straight on. “What’s bothering you? And don’t say ‘nothing’ because I know something is.”

She looks away, back out at the water. Her hands fidget, and I know she’s deep in her head, but I need her here with me.

“Candace,” I urge, bringing her focus back.

She faces me, brows pinched together, worried. “I just don’t really know what we’re doing.”

“Tell me what you want.” Tell me that’s it me. That you want me. So I don’t have to keep pretending.

“I’m not good at this stuff, Ryan.”

Neither am I.

“Come here,” I say as I grab her leg and move her to face me.

Time to get honest.

“I’ve wanted to kiss you since the night of the concert,” I confess. “I don’t know where your head is at, but whenever I’m not with you, I want to be.”

I watch as she drops her eyes. Shy.

“Talk to me, babe.” Tell me you feel it too.

“I just . . .” she starts, trying to find her words and settling back on, “I don’t do this well.”

“Do what?”

“This . . .”

I can’t take her shyness, so I hold her head in my hands, angling her to look at me when I finally admit, “Whatever this is, I want it. I just need to know if you do.”

My tone is intent because I know what I want here. Her eyes don’t move from mine, and I wait for her response. For anything. I put it out there, and now my heart is racing with nerves, uncertain of her response. Then finally, she gives it to me, and I wanna fuckin’ cling to her when she nods her head yes.

Keeping my hands on her, I guide her to me and kiss her. I’ve never wanted anything as much as I want her, and when she slides her arms under my coat and around my waist, my heart finally starts to settle. I have her.

Her lips are cold and wet with rain, and I squeeze her to me. I move slowly because the thought of rushing anything with her, to quicken the pace of her touch, would be stupid. So I take my time as I graze my tongue along her soft lips, and when she relaxes, allowing me to take more, I pass her lips and taste the warmth of her mouth.

I’m relieved that she’s giving me this, that she wants what I want, but I’m anxious because I’ve never done this before. Never have I had feelings like this for anyone. Not even close to thinking that I could.

She presses her fingers into me, tightening her hold, and I keep my hands on her jaw, marking her as mine like some pathetic puppy, but I do it anyway.

She moves with me, sliding her tongue along mine—gently—without any sign of urgency, and I love that about her. That she would want the time the same way I do.

When I feel her move her hands out from under my coat and wrap around my wrists, I pull back and ask, “Should we get out of here?”

“Let’s stay.”

“Come here,” I say as I slide her on top of my lap, and she slips her arm around my neck, steadying herself on me.

“Can I ask you something?” she says quietly.

“Anything.”

“I never asked before because I didn’t want to intrude, but . . . where’s your father?” she asks with a hint of trepidation.

I don’t talk to anyone about my dad. Never have. I hide it, bury it, and mask it with vices that make it easier to deal with. But I know she’s hiding something too. I wish I knew what it was, so I go ahead and break off a piece of me and give it to her. “He died about ten years ago.”

“I’m sorry,” she says and drops her head away from me—abashed. “I shouldn’t have asked.”

“Candace, you can ask me anything,” I tell her as I lift her chin up. “I don’t want you to feel like you can’t, okay?” I don’t know what else to say, but I do know I want her to start opening up to me.

“Yeah,” she breathes softly.

“My dad was an asshole,” I tell her, wanting to be honest with her. “He drank way too much and was never around, but when he was, he was a total dick. So, don’t feel bad for asking, because I don’t feel bad that he’s dead.” I know my words come out hard, but they come out in truth.

She scans my face for a moment. She knows there’s more behind my words, but I don’t elaborate because what I just gave her is more than I’ve given anyone. So I leave it.

I clutch her waist and hold on to her when she looks over my shoulder and asks, “Is there a trail up there?”

“Yeah, it’s a pretty decent path if you want to go up there.”

“Yeah, let’s go,” she suggests, and I eye her leopard rain boots, asking, “Those have enough traction?”

Laughing, she says, “We’ll see.”

Stealing another kiss from her, enjoying the freedom of being able to, I stand and smile down at her before scooping her up and over my shoulder. This chick weighs nothing, and she begins to laugh as I haul her up the stairs. The giggles and squeals coming out of her are beautiful, and she never complains. I adore this side of her.

After hiking in the rain for over an hour, I didn’t let the fact that we were rain-soaked stop me from taking Candace into Seaside to the Broadway Strip. We took our time, walking in and out of the shops and grabbing lunch.

We came home and had an early dinner before everyone said goodbye and headed back home. It’s just the two of us and my mom, so we’ve made no plans for the night. After Candace gets cleaned up, she makes herself comfortable on the couch downstairs, reading a book, while I take a quick shower.

I was surprised with how easygoing she was after our talk on the beach. We fell into the laidback feeling we have built up to in our friendship, but now there’s no more grey.

Toweling off, I throw on a pair of pajama pants and dry my hair. I hear my mom’s voice when I walk out of the room, and I start making my way down the stairs, spotting Candace and my mom sitting on the couch.

“No child should ever have to hear that,” I overhear my mom telling Candace and I ask, “Hear what?” curious as to what they’re chatting about.

As I walk across the room, I notice Candace’s splotchy face, and I know she’s been crying. She keeps from looking at me as she faces my mother, so I take a seat next to her on the couch and slip my arm around her when my mom answers me.

“Candace is telling me about what happened the other night.”

“Mom.” I’ve been avoiding asking Candace how she’s been feeling about the whole situation to keep from upsetting her.

“It’s fine,” Candace assures me, so I stay quiet and listen as they continue to talk.

I watch my mom take ahold of Candace’s hand when she asks, “Do you have any other family at all?”

“No. It’s only ever been the three of us since my father’s parents passed away.”

“What about your mother’s family?”

“I’ve never met them,” Candace tells her. “I have never known them to speak. I’m not even sure they know about me.” Her voice trembles as she says this, and I run my hand up her back, wondering why she would have a side of her family that she’s being kept away from. But before I can question it too much, my mother leans in and takes Candace in her arms, hugging her. We both have her in our hold when she begins weeping.

I feel horrible, but glad that she’s here with me and that she would open up to my mother, who’s nearly a stranger to her. I think of how long it took Candace to show me even a hint of this side of herself, but I know my mom has a way about her that can make anyone want to open up. She’s always been that person for me, so seeing her provide Candace a little of that when I know she’s probably never gotten it from her own parents is a good thing.

My mom pulls back, telling Candace exactly what I’m feeling as she wipes the tears from Candace’s cheeks.

“I’m glad you’re here with us.” Candace only nods when my mom says, “I’ll let the two of you be,” before walking out of the room.

I pull Candace to me, resting her back onto my chest as I lean against the armrest. She continues to let out soft whimpers.

“Don’t cry, babe,” I say quietly.

“I’m tired,” she tells me. “I don’t want to talk anymore.”

So I don’t say anything else. Taking her hand, I lead her upstairs so that she can lie down. It’s late, and I’m sure she’s exhausted from our busy day.

I let go of her hand when we hit the doorway and watch as she walks into the bathroom. I wait, listening to the faucet run, and when she returns, she doesn’t say anything as she looks at me and gets into my bed.

Her back is facing me, and I’m not sure what she wants me to do. I know what I want to do, so I swallow the questioning thoughts and decide to not leave her in here alone. I walk over to the edge of the bed, pull back the covers, and slide in behind her. She’s curled into a ball, so I wrap myself around her, tucking her into me, when she wedges her hand underneath mine for me to hold. This small move is all I need to assure me that she wants me with her tonight, so I stay.

Waking up with Candace is something that I can get used to, and I want to. So much so, that when I dropped her off at her house after we drove back to Seattle today, I asked her to stay at my loft tonight. She didn’t want to at first, hell, even after trying to talk to her about why she’s so apprehensive about it, I still don’t think she wants to, but she wound up agreeing anyway.

I know that Jase told me that she was inexperienced, but I’m not quite sure how inexperienced he meant. After seeing how shy she was when I told her I wanted her here tonight, I’m pretty sure this girl is more innocent than I thought. But I want her here, and I want her in my bed. I’ve never wanted anyone in my bed. I avoid it. Always have. Always keeping everyone I’ve ever brought here downstairs. But her . . . I want it with her.

Getting a drink of water, I see headlights shine through the windows as her car pulls into my drive. She had to work the closing shift tonight, so it’s a little past midnight as I watch her get out of her car. I head over to the door and wait for her to knock, but when I hear nothing, I wonder if she’s having second thoughts. Hell, I’m surprised she came in the first place with how hesitant she was earlier. I startle her when I open the door.

“What are you doing out here?” I question with a tilt of my head, knowing all too well what she was doing—worrying.

“Umm, nothing. I was just about to knock.” A clear lie, but I find myself liking it.

I take her bag as she walks in, setting it at the foot of the stairs. When I turn, I see her fidgeting her hands as she stands awkwardly in my living room. Needing her to relax and not feel this way when she’s with me, I go over and take her in my arms. She accepts the touch willingly and clasps her hands behind my back, leaning her forehead against my chest. When she lets go of a deep breath, I give her head a kiss, asking, “Better?”

Her hum is soft when she says, “Mmm hmm.”

“Good. I’m wiped. What about you?”

“Yeah,” she breathes.

I take her hand, leading her upstairs. Walking her into my room, I aim her past the large closet, saying, “The bathroom is right over there.”

She looks up at me, smiling, before taking her bag out of my hand and closing the bathroom door behind her.

I change clothes while I hear her taking a shower, and just knowing that she’s naked in there—in my shower—starts a swarm of thoughts I know I need to get under control before I get her in my bed. Heading back downstairs to grab a bottle of water for her, I hang out in my kitchen, giving myself a few minutes before I go back up.

She’s stepping out of the bathroom when I return, wearing a similar tank and pajama pants as she has the past couple of nights. I watch her hop up onto the tall bed, and I have to laugh at her as she slides under the covers. Sitting next to her, back against the cool leather headboard, she settles herself into my hold. When I look down at her, she’s looking at the tattoo that’s inked on the side of my ribs. I know she’s gonna ask me about it when she lays her hand on top of it, so I decide, on the fly, to just tell her. She was so scared to be here with me earlier. I told her she could trust me, but I know my words aren’t enough, so I’ll give her a reason to try.

“What’s this for?”

“A reminder,” I say as I take her hand off the tattoo that covers my scar and hold it to my chest. “Like I said, my dad was an asshole.” Her eyes shift up and meet mine when I continue, “He was a drunk and liked to take his anger out on me and my mom. I took more of it than she did. The drunker he was, the worse it would get. He was like that for as far back as I can remember. It was all I knew. Then one night, I beat the shit out of him when he was wasted, and when he got in his car and left, he never came back. His car was found wrapped around a tree, and that was it. He was dead.”

The look on her face is beyond disbelief, so I pull her in tighter, knowing that was probably the last thing she expected me to say. It was a couple months after the funeral that I didn’t attend when I got the words Pain is a reminder you’re still alive tattooed over the scar that he gave me. But after all the hell he inflicted on me, I’m the one that’s still breathing.

I don’t know how else to show this girl that she can trust me and not be so closed off like she’s always been with me. I need her to know that I trust her, so I let her know, “You’re the only one who knows that, outside of my mom and me.”

“I feel really stupid,” she mumbles as she closes her eyes. “I’m so sorry about complaining about my parents.”

“Candace, you’re far from stupid,” I say when I run my hand along her jaw to urge her to look at me. “Your parents treated you like shit. They filled you full of misconceptions of yourself and fucked with your head. Anyone would be devastated. Don’t dismiss your pain because you don’t think it’s worthy. It is.”

She takes a moment after I tell her this and looks at me. I know she acknowledges my words when she reaches up and threads her hands in my hair, drawing me in to kiss her. I slide down to meet her face to face, and I take her lips with mine. Bracing my body over hers, I soak in the heat of her as I run my mouth down her smooth neck, taking my time, nipping her gently along the way. When I start taking little sucks across her collarbone, she uses her hands to guide my face back up to her lips.

I know she’s scared to move fast, she told me this earlier, so I go at her pace. Taking one of her hands off my cheek, I slide my fingers between hers and hold her hand as I move past her lips and explore her mouth. I grip her hand tightly, pressing it into the mattress, and I’m finding it hard to not want to take her, feel her breasts, run my hands up her thighs. My thoughts intensify, and I slow down, pulling back. Her face is slightly flushed, and I finally notice how strong her hold is on my hand.

“I could do this all night.” I lean my forehead against hers, and she closes her eyes, keeping them shut until I say, “Look at me, Candace.”

It takes her a second before she opens her eyes and peers up at me.

“Tell me why you’re nervous with me.”

“Ryan,” she whispers and turns her head to the side to break the contact.

“Tell me,” I say, needing her to just give me a small piece of what’s going on inside of her head.

She moves to look at me again and starts, “Because . . .”

“Because why?”

“Because this is new for me,” she finally reveals.

I don’t respond, I simply smile down at her, and I can feel her start to relax.

The smile on her face is perfect, and when I catch her dimple, I finally take what I’ve been wanting and lean down to kiss it before I lie next to her and band my arms around her.

I watch as she begins to wake up. She clutches the blankets around her, eyes still closed and shimmies herself further down into the bed. She did the same thing yesterday morning at my mom’s house. I reach down and pull her back up to me, and she starts blinking her eyes open when I begin to run my hands up and down her back, attempting to warm her up.

“Hey,” she mumbles as she scoots in closer to me.

“Why don’t you wear something warmer if you’re always so cold?”

“I’ve tried, but it’s hard for me to sleep when I wear heavy clothes,” she says.

“I’m not gonna lie,” I tell her. “I think I would prefer you cuddling into me like this every morning.”

Tilting her head away from my chest, she questions, “Every morning?”

“You know I’m gonna want you back here.”

When she leans her forehead against my chin, she begins to nervously mutter, “I’m not . . . I mean, I don’t know if . . .”

“Candace,” I say to get her to stop. “I like having you next to me at night. I won’t push, if that’s worrying you.”

She doesn’t move her head away from me when she says, “I’m not sure what you’re used to, but—”

“Just give me a couple days a week,” I tell her to calm her nerves about moving too fast.

She nods her head, and I don’t say anything else. We lie together with no words, and I enjoy the touch of her body against mine until we finally decide to crawl out of bed.

We spend a slow morning downstairs, drinking coffee and hanging out. I want to ask her about how she’s feeling with her parents, but I decide to hold off because I don’t want to upset her. So instead, I flip on the TV and we kick back on the couch. Just another excuse to have my arms around her.