Her mouth dropped open just enough that he knew he’d surprised her.
“So…I just wanted you to know that.” The obstinate fist that constantly gripped his heart in her presence loosened. Breathing slightly easier, he leaned back and began to roast his own marshmallow.
“I can’t go to Macon tonight,” she announced into the darkness without looking at him.
Her words were soft but even. Firm.
“Kylie, I know we—”
“No, Trace. You just said you wouldn’t hurt me if you could help it. So I can’t go.” Her chest rose and fell with the weight of whatever she was about to tell him. She lowered her voice to a whisper. “It hurts being there, in that place where we were…you know.”
He knew he might have imagined it, but her hands appeared to be shaking. He wanted to grab them and hold them more than anything. Hold her. Reassure her. Love the ever-loving hell out of her.
“Okay, Kylie Lou. We won’t go then.” He returned his attention to the fire. Without waiting for her response, he confessed his darkest secret. “But the truth is—even if you never set foot on that property again so long as you live—you’re always there.”
SHE WAs dead on her feet by the time they finished with their messy marshmallow roast. But he was pretty sure her stepmother’s bullshit excuse for a book was a distant memory.
He walked her to her room wondering if he lived a normal life, if this was what a date might be like. After his suggestion of friendship and everything that had happened the past few weeks, he knew better than to expect a goodnight kiss. Didn’t keep him from wanting one. Badly.
But when he wiped the sweet, sticky remnants of dessert from her lips, a hint of a smile played on them. He smiled back because, even though he wasn’t getting a kiss tonight, he’d accomplished his goal. He wanted to make her smile, help her forget, even if it was just for a little while.
His fingers ached to remain on her skin, but they’d turned a corner tonight. Sure, they’d mostly sat in peaceful silence. But there had been no anger and no blatant hatred rolling off her in his direction. And he was desperately hoping that damn wall she kept between them was coming down slowly but surely. So he removed his finger from her soft lips and took a step back.
“You don’t have to stay. Security team is in place. I’m fine, really.” At least that’s what her mouth said.
But Trace was catching on. Her mouth said, Go, I’m fine. Her eyes said, Stay, I don’t want to be alone.
He was also smart enough to know she would hate that he’d figured that out.
Doing his best to not lay it on too thick, he let a yawn out and stretched his arms over his head. Gripping the top of the doorframe at the entrance of her room, he leaned forward.
“Eh, I’m kinda beat. Too tired to be driving anyway. The crew will make their way back in the morning without me.”
“So you’re staying then? On the bus?”
There it was, that mix of hope and fear that tended to show in her eyes when she was trying so hard not to appear vulnerable.
“That okay with you? I’m just gonna crash in my room. I’ll try not to snore too loud or have any disruptive nightmares.”
Hope and fear turned to pity. Which he hated.
He scoffed. “It was a joke. It’s not a big deal. Unless it really does keep you up. I could sleep on the—”
“Trace,” was all she said.
It was enough to shut him up. She walked toward him with a determination that would’ve made a lesser man retreat. Or worship on his knees. The sight of her hips swaying gently made his entire body stand at attention.
“Thank you,” she said, catching him so off guard he couldn’t respond right away. “For tonight. For what you said and did. For…coming back.”
She was close enough that her sweet honey-vanilla scent surrounded him. Close enough to touch. Close enough to pick up and press against the wall. To tear her clothes off and sink himself inside her.
He blinked the images away and focused on the present. Or tried to at least.
“I’ll always come back.” He hadn’t meant for the truth to slip out like that, but he wasn’t sorry that it did. He didn’t even have time to wonder if she recognized them as her own. Her reaction was immediate.
Judging from the tears that sprang to her eyes and the way her entire body jolted, those words were an unwelcome reminder.
“Well, um, goodnight,” she said quietly, turning away, dismissing him and busying herself by searching for something in her dresser.
He sighed, certain that he’d screwed up his mission not to hurt her once again. “Goodnight, Kylie Lou.”