Within These Walls (Within These Walls #1)(43)

I tried to dismiss the topic with a wave of my hand.

But he persisted as he asked, “If you could ask me anything in a text message without fear of those cheeks blushing or my reaction, what would you ask?”

I knew what I wanted to ask him, but fear took over, and it was suddenly guiding my every move.

Would he be angry that I knew? Would it hurt him to talk about it?

Do I really want to know?

I looked into those beautiful jade eyes, and I knew I couldn’t ask about his fiancée. I wasn’t ready to know. I wasn’t jealous or angry that he hadn’t shared that part of his life with me. It was the fear that once he did, I’d be faced with something I already knew deep down. I should let him go. He deserved better than a second chance that had very little hope. The elephant in the room might have been firmly planted in the corner by this time, and we’d managed to dodge and weave around him well, pretending the possibility of my death didn’t exist, but it didn’t make it any less true.

I was selfishly allowing all this to happen, knowing he’d already lost someone before and knowing it could happen again.

“Why me?” I asked.

“Why not you, Lailah?” he argued, leaning forward to take my hand. “Why would you ask that?”

“You could have anyone. Why would you—”

“I don’t want anyone else,” he answered, halting my words. He reached out to graze the tender skin of my cheek with his thumb. “I want you.”

I had no words as I watched him push away my lunch tray before crawling into bed with me. I was speechless as I felt his solid arms wrap around me and pull me close. I should let him go, but I wouldn’t. I needed him—his touch, his tender and healing words, and the way being around him made me feel. I felt restored and renewed in his presence, and that was better than any drug or treatment a doctor could prescribe.

“Tell me one more, and then you’re going to get some rest,” he instructed as he rested his head on the pillow and closed his eyes.

My notebook was still open in my lap, and he’d made no attempts to peek at the pages currently on display.

“Are you going to pick the number, or shall I?”

“You pick it this time,” he answered.

I scanned the page with my index finger, trying to find one that was both interesting and not too embarrassing.

“Visit a foreign country.”

His eyes peeked open, and he smirked. “Any foreign country? Or do you have a preference?”

I thought about it for a moment. “I don’t know. I guess I just never thought it would come true, so I never took the time to pick a specific place.”

He traced his fingers down my arm, a trail of gooseflesh rising as he went, until he finally intertwined them with my own and squeezed.

“Pick one now, anywhere in the world. Where would you go?”

There were so many places in the world. How could I pick just one?

My mind sought a single destination, remembering history class with my mother and movies I’d seen, and one place stuck out in my mind above all others. “Ireland,” I answered.

“A beautiful country for a beautiful woman,” he replied. “Let’s go.”

I laughed, loving the sweet timbre of his voice. “What? Now?”

“Yep, close your eyes.”

“You’re insane.”

“Probably. Close your eyes, Lailah,” he commanded.

I gave a halfhearted huff and did as I had been told. I closed my eyes and settled further into the pillow.

“Okay, imagine us in one of those European cars. They’re compact and boring-looking. Everything is on the wrong side. We’re driving down a small road near the picturesque Ireland countryside.”

“Wait—we’re already there?” I asked, cracking my eyelids open just slightly.

“What do you mean, we’re already there?”

“I mean, how did we get there? Did we fly?”

“Of course we flew.”

“You’re a terrible storyteller.”

He huffed, which made me laugh. “Okay, fine. It was a very normal, boring flight. You slept most of the way. After renting our awesome, tiny car, we checked into a quaint little bed-and-breakfast, and we had a quickie to get over our jet lag. Now, we are touring the countryside.”

“Why just a quickie?” I asked with a snicker.

“How about this? I took you seven different ways, starting with up against the door of our room because I couldn’t wait a single second longer after our long-ass flight. Better? Or would you like more detail?”

My eyes flew open to find his blazing green irises staring back at me.

“Um…nope. I think I’ve got it.” I gulped. “So, we are driving down the Irish countryside?”

His wolfish grin was the last thing I saw as my head fell back against the pillow.

“I’d take you for a long drive around the Ring of Kerry. We’d stop along the way to take pictures and hike off the beaten trail. The sky would be gray with small dots of blue where the clouds thinned and broke. The air would taste salty from the ocean. The grass would be so green that it would almost look unreal as if a painter had swirled it directly from a brush. Can you see it?”

With every word that sprang free from his lips, a picture began to form in my head. Clouds formed, and grass grew. I could taste the ocean air against my tongue, and I could hear birds flying above us.