The Crush (49)

And in the morning, I couldn’t bear it if she woke with widened, horrified eyes. Even the slightest tinge of regret would ruin my chance with her.

For that reason, I kept my hands on the brick. That was why I didn’t slide them up the back of her shirt and tug her body into mine.

I took a step back and let out a slow breath. Her eyes were liquid and dark, heated like I was already touching her.

“It’s probably good that one of us has restraint,” she said weakly, her hand fluttering lightly over her hair. “I will … I will probably owe you an apology for this tomorrow when I’m sober and I feel like a creep who couldn’t keep her hands off.”

My answering laugh was rough and uneven. If she only knew.

“No apology necessary,” I told her. “Not for this.”

She sighed. “I’m sure I’ll do something else then. I don’t know how to want what I want and have what I want and do the things I need to do.”

My brow furrowed.

“Does that make sense?” she asked.

“No.” I smiled. So did she. “But maybe you can explain tomorrow.”

Gently, I slid my thumb over her cheekbone. She sank into the featherlight touch.

“Okay.”

“You can get in okay?”

Adaline nodded.

“I’ll call you in the morning,” I promised.

Her eyes held mine. “Would you have done that if I hadn’t been there tonight? I wouldn’t…” She paused, swallowing roughly. “I wouldn’t blame you for not wanting to see me if you just came to see your family.”

You’re why I’m here.

You’re why I’m doing everything.

The words danced on the tip of my tongue. She might not even remember if I said them. But it was too soon. So I held them back.

“Yeah,” I told her. “I was going to call you. See if I could bring you breakfast. Something horrible and sugary.”

Adaline hummed, a happy sighing sort of noise. “I know this makes me horribly selfish, but I’m happy to hear that.” She closed her eyes again. “I shouldn’t have said that either.”

“Why don’t you go inside then?” I said gently. “Let’s talk when you have that filter back in place.”

But she didn’t move. My restraint was held back by a whisper-thin string.

“If I wasn’t drunk, would you have come in with me?” She lifted a hand, traced underneath my eye. “I see it … how much you want me.”

I set my jaw, refusing to look away. Adaline was the soberest drunk person I’d ever seen because she had no problem cutting right to the heart of the entire thing.

Reaching forward, I carefully took the key from her fingers. Her hand shook as she lowered it back to her side.

I swiped it in front of the lock, heard the high-pitched beep and the click of the door. Then I handed it back to her.

“Good night, Adaline,” I said.

Slowly, she nodded, and I didn’t exhale fully until she walked through the door, and it locked with a decisive click behind her.

She gave me a long look over her shoulder, and then smiled. When I settled back in the car, I let out a long, deep breath.

My phone buzzed.

Adaline: Thank you.

Adaline: For bringing me home. And for taking care of me.

I wanted to promise her that I always would, but I knew it was best for me to let her crawl into bed and sleep it off. Not engage when we couldn’t have the kind of conversation we needed.

Me: You’re welcome. Good night, Adaline.

She sent a heart, and I thought about that the entire drive home.

The house wasn’t as lit up anymore, and when I let myself back in through the garage door, I exhaled heavily.

My mom was curled up on the couch, and she muted the TV when I sprawled on the seat across from her. Her eyes were expectant and full of a million questions.

“You gonna tell me what the hell is going on?” she asked.

I sighed, clenching my teeth. Finally, I shook my head slowly. “Not yet.” I gave her a small smile. “I’m sorry.”

Mom screwed up her lips and gave me a considering look. “Fine. You’re an adult. I can’t pry it out of you.”

“Thank you.”

“One question, though,” she added on a rush. “I’ll make it easy too. Yes or no.”

I sighed.

“Were you or were you not looking at Adaline Wilder like you were going to toss her over your shoulder and drag her up to your room?”

The look I gave her was incredulous. “I’m not answering that.”

She kept going. “Like you would walk over hot coals to spend some time alone with her? Or like you have been hiding something very big and important from your family?”

“I beg of you to stop.”

“That is a yes in man language.” She turned the volume back on the TV, her smile smug. “I’m satisfied that I can still read the room. Your dad will be home any minute, and I promise I won’t tell him.”

“Why did I come home again?” I muttered.

She laughed. “Because you love us.”

“I don’t know why.”

“I love Adaline too, by the way,” Mom continued slyly. “If you were wondering my take on it.”