Page 16 of The Score

Chapter 6

Pen

The edges of my vision go blurry. I'm locked on his dark blue eyes. Whatever parts of my brain remember what it was like to be an animal of prey, they make me so immobile I doubt my heart is working either.

If I heard him right, Leon Karlsen, my best friend, proposed marriage to me. Well, it was a command, with that bossy way of his, but—

"We're almost thirty." His deep voice is tentative. Like he's afraid he'll frighten me beyond repair. "This will make your dad happy. It's his own bucket list item, right? And you'll have a cushion for the transition you need—"

"I can't."

My answer opens the floodgates. Where I couldn't feel my heartbeat before, now it's loud and urgent. Blood rushes in my ears and, if I were to put my hands in front of me, I'm sure they would shake. Hell, my legs are trembling, too. Quakes run up and down my spine.

The two words came out of me without thought, but I don't correct them. It's the truth. I shake my head for good measure.

"Yes you can," he insists. "We said we were going to do it."

Oh, God. He's talking about the pact.

As if my heart wasn't working hard enough before, now it's fluttering, too. Hiccuping.

Too much energy runs through my limbs. It has to be tamed somehow. I jump out of my chair and pace from one end of the terrace to the other. Bear stands and tracks my movements.

"Look." I lift my hands in a placating gesture. "I know I came up with the idea back when we were seventeen, but we've grown up."

"I'm not going back on my word. We're single. We're not sure what's going on with your dad, but we know something big is happening and his health is at risk. He wants to walk you down the aisle. I'd be happy to be at the end of it."

"I can't do that to you." I stop in the middle of the space, the fire roaring between us. "Bear, you want forever with someone who wants to be your wife. Real wife. And I— I love you. You know I do. But I— we don't—"

I don't say 'I love you' to him often. Bear himself has never said it to me, though I know he feels the same way. He's shown me. He's showing me right now. I've never needed the words.

"I know it's not like that between us." His tone is somber. "I haven't forgotten."

My mouth opens as if I'm going to point out all the ways in which this is a bad idea. How it will get in the way of what he wants, but my vocal cords don't work. I frown. For a moment, I question whether all of this is really happening.

"Pen, I want to do this with you. I really do."

He looks as earnest as he's ever been. Bear isn't the most expressive of people. A quiet reserve and a bit of seriousness have often confused onlookers. Dry humor and sudden bursts of laughter are usually reserved for his inner circle. But I know him really, really well.

"Why?" I ask.

"Because it's you." He shrugs like it's the easiest truth he's ever shared.

"Bear, I…"

I'm at a loss for words again. A small smile curls one end of his lips. He approaches me slowly, as if he worries I'll run away. Eventually, he's close enough he can put his large hands on my arms. Instead of asking, he only raises an eyebrow so I speak my mind.

"We were dramatic teens at the time," I say. "Or I was, anyway. Desperate to feel like I wasn't falling behind. But I grew up! I don't care about that stuff anymore."

"I don't think I was being dramatic."

"Please. You went and punched the guy the next day!"

"Only time I've ever punched someone." He lifts a dismissive shoulder. "And he punched me first."

The day after our conversation and one kiss, my best friend advanced on Evan like a giant grizzly down the school hallway. The ring Evan wore left the scar marking Leon's lip. It was after that fight that I first called him Bear.

I shake my head. "You got in so much trouble for that."