Dear Life(65)

Gripping tightly onto my jacket now, she ever so slightly shakes her head. “There isn’t one part of me that can tell you no, Carter. I want this. So much.”

“Not as much as me,” I mutter right before I close the distance between us, our lips molding together in a gentle caress.

At first, I take it easy, letting Daisy get used to the feeling of our lips pressed together, of our heads bending in opposite directions, of our hands clamping onto each other. Once I feel she’s comfortable, I move my hand down to her back and pull her closer, needing to feel her on a deeper level, not just on her lips, but with her body as well.

When I scoot her closer on my lap, she quietly moans in my mouth, her lips parting just enough that I slip my tongue inside, eliciting another moan from her. The sexiest sound I’ve ever fucking heard.

For never kissing someone before, she’s fucking blowing my mind with the way she tentatively moves her hands inside my jacket, how her tongue barely grazes mine, and her lips move in conjunction with mine, like she’s trying to form a rhythmic dance with our mouths.

It’s sexy as fuck. Sinful almost, the way she lightly strokes my lips, sending chills up my spine. This isn’t just some kiss, this is nothing I’ve ever experienced before. Hot, wet, explorative, tentative, scared yet excited, all wrapped up with a tiny little Daisy bow.

Fucking perfection.

Fucking terrifying.

Nipping at her lips one last time, I pull away and watch like a proud motherfucker as her eyes flutter open, lust pouring out of them as she catches her breath.

“Never been kissed? Not anymore, Snowflake.”

She takes a deep breath, her hand going to her lips as if to check if they’re still attached. Don’t worry, Snowflake, they’re still very much attached and looking just as sexy as ever. Staring up at me in awe, she says, “I guess not.” Then with the most beautiful smile I’ve ever seen, she adds, “Thank you, Carter.”

Ah hell. I’m so fucked when it comes to this girl.





JACE


I’ve had my fair share of nervous moments. Whether it was having to hit the game-winning run, signing with my first major league team, or playing in my first major league game among thousands upon thousands of fans. I’ve had to shed the shaky hands and do my job.

But this moment right here, this is a moment I don’t know if I can hide my nerves.

Sitting in my rental car, I stare up at the apartment complex and take deep breaths, playing the conversation I want to have over and over in my head. I practiced it on the phone with my lawyers, who didn’t think it was a good idea, and with Hollyn, who coached me to be a little softer with my approach.

Apparently I was coming off as harsh. How could I not, though?

Christ.

I look at my text messages one last time, hovering over Hollyn’s name.

Hollyn: Just remember to stay calm, no matter what she says to make you mad.

Stay calm, don’t lose my shit, don’t threaten her, but speak with authority. I’m doing this for June and Alex. I’m doing this for Hope.

After locking my car, I make my way up the sidewalk of the rundown apartment complex Rebecca lives in. She’s moved since I’ve been with her. Taking in my surroundings, it seems something must have happened to her in the last few months, because she didn’t used to live in such squalor.

Rundown doors after rundown doors appear as I walk down the balcony of the outdoor apartment complex. It has the feel of an old motel that someone converted into small apartments, some creepy structure out of a horror film. What the hell is she living here for?

Scanning the paper again with her address, I note the apartment number, 2F. The numbers on the doors are barely visible but when I spot 2F, my body goes stiff, my heart starts beating out of my chest, and my palms instantly become sweaty.

Knowing I just need to get this conversation over and done with, I rap two knuckles on the door and wait for her to answer, shifting from one foot to another, trying to keep myself busy so I don’t have time to really think about what I’m doing.

What am I really doing? Some people might say I’m reasoning, but I’m not above begging. If I have to, I will get down on my hands and knees.

The distinct sound of locks being unlocked fill in the empty night air and the door barely cracks open, Rebecca’s head poking through. When she sees me on the other side of the door, her eyes go wide for a brief moment but then turn into a blank mask.

“Jace, what are you doing here?”

“Can we talk?”

She looks back into her apartment and then says, “Now is not a good time. Just have your lawyers translate whatever you came to talk to me about.”

She goes to shut the door on me but I stop it, my palm flat against the wood.

“I’m not leaving until I talk to you,” I state, being firm.

“Well, looks like you’re going to have a long night because now is not a good time,” she seethes between her teeth.

“It’s a good time for me, so either open up or step outside. I’m not a very patient man when it comes to you, so don’t fuck with me, Rebecca.”

So much for staying calm.

“Jace,” she looks back into her apartment and then whispers, “I can’t do this right now.”

Trying to peer inside her apartment, I ask, “What the hell are you hiding that you don’t want me to see?”