Page 87 of Savage Heart

“You deserve a lot more than that.”

“You’re right. I do. And I’ll take whatever you need to dish out.”

“You can’t just sit here all day trying to be . . . whatever this is.”

“Charming?” I offer. “Repentant? Hopeful?”

She gives me a look. “Persistent.”

“I’m bad at subtle,” I admit. “You’ve always known that.”

Her eyes soften at that, just a little. “That doesn’t mean I’m ready.”

“I know,” I say quickly. “I swear, I’m not pushing. I just—” I shrug, helpless. “I like that you’re talking to me. At all. I like seeing you smile the tiniest bit. Even if it’s at my expense. I liked everything about last night,” I add.

She studies me.

“None of this changes anything as far as what people know about that night,” she says under her breath.

“Why? Don’t you want to clear your name?”

She presses her lips together. “The ones who matter love me anyway. I’d rather leave it alone. Please.”

“People should know the truth, Iris. You don’t deserve to be treated the way you have. From me or anyone else in this town.”

“No,” she says firmly.

I nod. “Okay. Whatever you say.”

“You’re different,” she says finally.

I swallow. “We both are. Right?”

She rolls her eyes, but there’s warmth there now, slipping through the cracks. “You’re still a mess. Used to being in control and alpha-ing every situation in your quiet, polite way.”

“I’m not sure what that even means, but you’re probably right,” I agree. “At least I’m a mess who knows when to shut up.” I pause. “Mostly.”

She laughs then, like it escaped before she could cage it. The sound hits me square in the chest, knocking something loose. It’s the first deep wave of joy I can remember having in a long time. Well, besides last night, but that felt too good to be true. And I guess it was.

“Okay,” she says, regaining control, pointing at me with the rag. “Don’t expect much. But we can see how this . . . very tentative friendship goes. You can stay, and we can talk sometimes.”

“And you’ll come ride Lady?”

Her face goes soft again. “I’d like that.” It quickly closes back up. “What about Jennifer and . . . everyone else?”

“Let me worry about them.”

She gives me a skeptical look.

I lift my hands in surrender. “Trust me.”

“That’s the problem. I don’t anymore.”

That stings, but I get it. “I’ll prove that you can again.”

She shakes her head, but she’s smiling slightly as she goes to get my pancakes. I eat them—heart bruised and hope trying to scrape through.

Since senior year of high school, I haven’t thought I’d ever have a chance with Iris Sullivan again. After all this time and all we’ve been through, I can’t believe I’d even want to. But my heart has always known exactly what it wants when it comes to her, whether my brain has been on board or not.