"I've got it." I start in that direction, but Bailey grabs my arm and shakes her head.
"No. You and Mr. Muscles here go ahead and finish whatever it is you need to talk about. I'll take care of Trophy Wife."
"Bailey," I say, warning in my tone.
She holds up both hands. "Gwen, I know. Gwen. I'll behave. I promise."
She disappears inside the house, and I give my attention back to Sebastian. He watches me, his head tilted to the side, his eyes narrowed slightly.
"What?" I ask.
"Is it true you're waiting for Brogan?" he asks. "That's the rumor, you know. That you were already committed to him so you're his until he dies."
I look longingly toward the pool. It's so hot out here. I can't wait for everyone to leave so I can dive under the water and swim so hard and long there's no more room for thoughts in my head. No room for wondering how Arrow feels about me. No room for the guilt and regret and constant second-guessing of every decision I made that night.
I swallow hard. "That's the rumor?" I hate the idea of people talking about me, but I suppose what they're saying could be worse.
"Seems a little dramatic. You're so young. I know you love him, but . . ."
I was trying to break up with him that night. That's why we were arguing. That's why he wouldn't let me out of the car. That's why I had to get my brother to come save me. That's why they were in the street . . .
Sebastian studies me, and I wish I could turn off my thoughts rather than risk him seeing them on my face. "There's also a rumor that you were pregnant with his baby and that's why you haven't left his side." His gaze drifts to my stomach and then back up. "But I imagine that would be noticeable by now if it were true."
I release a dry laugh. "No truth to that one, I'm afraid."
"You see," he says, "I look at you and I see a gorgeous young woman who has her whole life ahead of her." He takes a step back and tucks his hands into his pockets. "I see someone I'd like to get to know, someone I'd like to make smile when she's ready to smile again. But I can't decide if your little research project is going to help you move on or if it's going to trap you in the past even longer."
I stare at the patio, not sure what to say and too tired to try.
"Yeah, so that's where I am," he says. "If you were wondering. That's why you don't have your list yet. Because I like you, and I don't want to do anything that's going to make you hurt longer than you already have."
I close my eyes and hear him walk away. His steps across the patio, the click of the French doors opening and then closing.
Alone, I look up into the night sky. By warning me off this search, Sebastian's trying to protect me from some faceless demon. He doesn't understand the demon already has me in its claws.
"Is Mia going to join us?" Sebastian looks over his shoulder to the light coming from the kitchen window.
"I told her to come out here," Bailey says with a huff. "Miss Antisocial doesn't even have the baby as an excuse tonight."
Since Katie is with Gwen's mom, Coach Wright insisted on taking Dad and Gwen out for a drink, and after Dad gave me a long, hard stare that told me he thought I might bust up the other hand while unsupervised, they left. Mason and-unfortunately-fucking Sebastian hung around, and everyone moved to the patio to play cards. Everyone except Mia.
I push my chair back and stand. "I'll get her."
Bailey arches a brow. "Yeah. Good luck with that."
Ignoring her skepticism, I head inside and find Mia in the kitchen sterilizing bottles.
She jumps when she sees me. "Arrow." Ever since the night she accused me of hating her and I told her I wanted her, she's been like this any time I'm around. As if she's afraid of me. Except for the night I broke my hand. She wasn't afraid of me that night.
"Because you regret it and I should, too."
"Do you need me to do anything for you?" Mia asks.
My back teeth slam together. I fucking hate when she acts like my servant. "Yeah. Actually, you can."
Surprise registers on her face but she tries to hide it with a plastic smile. She pulls the last bottle from the steaming water, flips off the stove, and turns to face me, her back against the counter. "Great. What's that?"
"Take the night off. Katie's gone. Gwen's not even here. Come outside and hang with us, and anything on that list of yours that you don't get done, I'll help you with tomorrow."
She opens her mouth-probably to object-and then closes it again.
"Please," I whisper, stepping closer.
She sneaks a look out the window and tugs her bottom lip between her teeth. "I don't know how to do it anymore."
"Do what?" I take a final step and stop, because if I step any closer we'll be touching.
She keeps her eyes on the window. "Be like them."
A puff of laughter escapes my lips, and she looks back to me, frowning. "You were never like them, Mia. And I don't think that's what you mean at all."
Her eyes search my face. "Then what do I mean?"
"You don't know how to live anymore."
"What's the point, Arrow?" She shakes her head. "I can't even feel anything."
God, this woman's going to break my heart. "Close your eyes." At first, I don't think she's going to do it, not with as tense as things have been between us, but then she does.
I take half a step closer, brush the hair off her neck, and lower my mouth to her ear. When the scent of her fills my senses, time skips like an old record hitting a scratch and backing up to a better song. I'm back in the car with her, watching the morning sun stretch out over the water, her body tucked into mine.
"What are you doing?"
"Reminding you," I say against her ear. My hands find her waist first, settling at the top of her hips and waiting for permission. It comes in the slightest shift of her body toward mine, the barest arch of her neck to give my mouth better access to her ear.
It's so easy to slip my hand under the hem of her skirt. So natural to put my hand between her legs. She gasps, but instead of stepping away, she drops her head to my shoulder, wraps one arm behind my neck, and uses the other to brace herself against the counter. Just this-her letting me touch her, her responding to my touch like this-is enough to have me hard and aching against the fly of my jeans.
"I wonder if you have any idea how often I think about this." I scrape my teeth against her ear and chase the guilt away by telling myself this is for her. I can't stand seeing her moving through life like the walking dead, and if all I can give her is this . . .
I tug her panties down so my fingers can explore the sensitive flesh between her legs. Again my brain treats me to flashes of the night at the lake and the next morning when I spread her out on her bed and put my mouth between her legs.
"Do you feel that?" I ask as I take her clit between two fingers. And I know she does, because her hand tightens around the back of my neck, her nails biting into the skin. But I want an answer, so I graze my thumb along that swollen piece of flesh and ask again, "Does the numbness go away when I touch you?"
"Yes." She lifts her hips, pressing into my hand in a wordless plea that I'm helpless to resist. I slide a finger inside her and hear my own groan as her tight heat envelopes me.
She takes a fistful of my shirt as she tries to pull me closer, and I focus on the sounds of her breathing, the slick heat of her body as I stroke her. Maybe, just maybe, I'm pulling air deeper into my lungs than I have in months. Maybe my blood's pumping harder, sending sensation buzzing through nerve endings that have gone numb with disregard. Maybe she's not the only one waking up.
"You're beautiful," I say. "I don't even know if I deserve to look at you, but some days it feels like you're the only piece of beauty left in the world."
She draws in a ragged breath and circles her hips in one last effort to control her need before she fully fucks my hand, grinding against me, pushing my fingers deeper. I tug her earlobe between my teeth then drop lower, latching on to her neck and sucking hard until she moans. With every sound, her movements grow more frantic, as if I woke her and she discovered she's been sleeping underwater and is now desperate to swim to the surface.
"You are beautiful," I repeat, my face between her breasts now. I straighten so I can look into her eyes. I want to see Mia undone. I want to know I can still do that for her. "And you're alive."