Page 83 of Yours, Forever

"Darling, I've told you not to worry about that. Don't feel bad about any of these things. I'm an adult man. I may be pampered, but I'm not entitled."

We locked eyes for several seconds. She didn't seem almost asleep anymore.

"Stay," she whispered.

Pangs multiplied behind my breastbone, dull and pulsing. I couldn't say no, when I wanted it so badly, and she asked me so quietly.

So I stayed, and I woke up with her around me the next morning.

This time, all I could feel was the peace of a warm dawn, and the soothing weight of blankets and her arm around my chest.

I took a slow, deep breath, and let her wake up naturally a little while later.

She didn't move, but I couldn't help starting the day with a joke.

"I knew you wouldn't resist my warmth." I caressed her hair. "How are you doing this morning?"

"I'm tired, but I think I'm better. Headache is gone."

"Glad your cold was this fast."

"It's like this most of the time. Whenever I see my mom. No matter if I see her for one hour or three days, I get sick. A bad day or two, then it's like nothing happened."

I couldn't get enough of the fact we were cuddling. The knowledge tingled within the walls of my heart, each pump glittering with it.

Perhaps that's why I took a small risk.

"You never talk about your dad," I said.

She didn't respond right away. I didn't ask anything else; I kept caressing her hair, waiting for her to make up her mind.

I closed my eyes and took another deep breath. Mornings like this could make me happy.

She sighed. "They divorced after they moved away when I was eighteen. I don't think I've talked to my dad much since. My mom… I get random calls three times a year."

A needle pierced our blanket cocoon. My heart twinged with hurt for her.

"They left when you were so young?" I whispered.

"They couldn't wait to pack their bags."

I let my hand settle on the curve of her nape. My fingertips rested on the shaved section of hair. The stubble pricked my skin. It surprised me, an enjoyable contrast to the softness of the moment.

With my free hand, I caressed her arm on my stomach. "The way you say it makes me think you always knew they wanted to leave."

"I always knew. I grew up with them talking about the day I'd turn eighteen and they could get away from Laguna Island. They hate this place. They always talked about going somewhere no one knew them, where there were things to do, where they could eat at a different place each night. They called that freedom and excitement."

"You've been alone since?"

"I've had my community."

I tsked. "Eighteen-year-olds need more than a close-knit town, darling."

"I'm thirty-two now." She shrugged. "I've learned to live like that. It's because of how they've been here for me that I always want to be here for them, in any way I can."

"I get it. I've learned to live with the cards I've been dealt, too. Having my friends has been a big part of that."

"They are lovely. I'm glad you have them."