Page 21 of The Pact
“And because you matter to me, and I care about what you think.”
I let the words hang. Honest and close.
Her breathing changes slightly.
And then I see it. I know she cares about me as much as I care about her. I can see it in her eyes. But she’s not ready to admit it to herself yet. She still lives in a little place of denial, where she can pretend like this connection we have is purely friendship.
“Thank you for telling me. For trusting me,” she says quietly.
“I should have told you a long time ago. I guess it just feels raw tonight because I talked to my sister and she brought him up,” I say, my lips tilting up on the side.
“I get it.” Her eyes hold mine. “And I know I didn’t know him, but, Saint … I think your dad would have been proud of the man you’ve become.”
I look away, jaw clenched, trying to hold back my tears because there’s no way in hell I’m gonna lose it in front of her tonight.
But she wasn’t done.
“He’d be proud of the way you love your sister,” she continues. “The way you show up for her. Her kids. You help carry people, Saint. Even when you think you’re not.”
I let out a slow breath. “I’m not sure about all that.”
“I am,” she says simply. “I know you.”
That lands deep.
Because she says it like it’s a fact.
And she might be the only person who really does know me.
We sit in silence, our hands still linked, the TV flashing blue and gold across the room as someone saves the world from bad guys. In my world, my gaze narrows to the woman beside me. And the impossible ache of wanting something I can’t have.
Or maybe what we have is supposed to be friendship. Maybe she knows something I don’t.
I clear my throat. “Well, tonight went in a direction I hadn’t intended. I’m sorry for bringing the mood down.”
She smiles and shrugs. “Eh, we go through these things together. That’s what I’m here for.”
“You’re a really good best friend, Doc.”
“What can I say? I’m a perfectionist in all things.” She laughs.
I watch the way her lips quirk into a smile.
“Saint, you don’t have to hide from me. Stop pretending things don’t matter when they do.”
I laugh, but there’s no humor in it. “Yeah.”
Kind of like we’re pretending that having sex doesn’t matter.
She squeezes my hand. “You called me because you didn’t want to be alone tonight.”
I shake my head. “I called you tonight because I wanted to watch the newDaredevilepisode and I knew you would want to see it too. And because I know you love my steaks.”
“Right.” She snickers.
We hold each other’s gaze, neither of us moving.
She lets out a breath and looks back at the TV. “I’m glad you and your sister have each other. I don’t know what I’d do without Alie.”
