Page 63 of Fall For Me
“Yes, mi amor?”
“I miss you.”
Nineteen
Sean
My breath catches. I don’t hear a single thing—not the traffic or the sound of the wind whistling over the top of the building. There’s nothing aside from the sound of my heartbeat roaring in my ears.
“Can you say that again? Because I seem to be hearing things.”
“I miss you,” she says again.
I roll her onto her back and hover over her. A tear drips across the bridge of her nose and rolls down the side of her face. Pressing my forehead against hers, I close my eyes. “I’ve been waiting for you. Impatiently, I might add.”
“Patience has never been your strong suit.” She laughs through her tears.
I lean back, my eyes roaming over her gorgeous face, mapping the little freckles that dot her high cheekbones. Her pulse flutters in rhythm with mine against the tips of my fingers—fast just like a hummingbird’s wings.
“If this is you throwing me a life raft, I’m grabbing ahold of it and holding on tight, because I’m fucking drowning without you. So, tellme, is this gonna be another time that my hope is crushed, or are you in?”
She studies me while worrying her bottom lip, and I hold my fucking breath.
Please. Come back to me, baby, I silently beg.
She gives a silent nod, but that’s just not going to work for me. “I need to hear you say it, Rebel.”
“I-I’m in.”
“Finally—”
Leaning forward, she shuts me up with a kiss that leaves us both breathless. My dick is fucking rock hard in my pants, but somehow, I find the self-control to break our kiss, and roll on my back, pulling her to my side again.
“Does this mean I actually get to come to family dinner tomorrow night?” I ask, playing with the ends of her hair.
“How do you know about that?”
“Your dad invited me. Surprised you didn’t set him straight about us.” I smile down at her.
She tangles her fingers with mine. “I never pressed the button.”
“Huh?”
“I didn’t press the button to change my relationship status on social media.”
Be cool, Sean. Be fucking cool.
“Hmm,” is all I say because I can’t trust myself to say anything else.
“I mean, you’d probably just break into my phone and change it back anyway.”
Yeah, she’s right. I would. We lay there in comfortable silence for a while with her drawing mindless patterns on my chest with her nails.
“Do you ever think about what your life would be like right now if you weren’t playing hockey?”
“Me? I’d probably be stuck behind a desk somewhere well into the early hours of the morning, sifting through discoveries and depositions, and trying like hell to figure out how to get some asshole, who probably deserves to be locked up, out of trouble.”
She tilts her head back to look at me. “Why does that not surprise me?”
