Get a Life, Chloe Brown (The Brown Sisters #1)(97)

She pulled back again, and everything seemed slightly paler. “We should talk properly.”

Oh, yeah. Like rational, adult human beings. “Or we could kiss until we run out of oxygen.”

She smiled and his heart broke and fixed itself.

“I mean it,” he said. “If I die, I die.”

She laughed and the air tasted different. Clean.

“Come on,” she said, marching toward his studio, but she didn’t let go of his hand. Not until she sat down, leaning against a rare part of the wall that didn’t have supplies stacked against it.

Red sat opposite her and tried not to melt over the prim way she crossed her legs and arranged her skirt over her knees. But then his smile faded. “Chloe, I’m sorry. I freaked out, I took my own shit out on you, and I just—I shouldn’t have. But you read the list, and you know I’m working on it, and I hope … Well, I hope that’s enough.”

Softly, she told him, “It is. Red—”

“Oh, wait. I forgot something.” He found her hand again, held on tight. “I love you.”

The corners of those lush lips tilted ever so slightly before she got them under control. He wondered how he’d ever thought of her as reserved—or, you know, up her own arse—when he could see every single emotion she tried to hide under that mask if he just looked hard enough. And right now, he realized with a grin, happiness was shining right through her severe facade. She might as well have shoved the sun under a pillow. He could see every last golden ray burning through.

But what she said was “We’ll address that in a minute.”

Red told himself this was too serious a moment to risk laughing.

“Right now,” she said, “I need to apologize to you, too. I’m so fucking sorry, Red. I know everything about that situation triggered you. I knew it at the time. But I didn’t know the right way to react, and I should’ve.”

“No, Chlo,” he said softly. “That’s not on you.”

“No, it’s not,” she agreed. “But remember what you told me once? About filling in people’s gaps? You do things for me when I can’t do them for myself. I want to support you in the same way. Can we work on that? Together?”

She was so fucking lovely. So lovely, and she wanted him. He closed his eyes and nodded slowly. His voice came out like gravel. “Yeah, love. We can do that.”

“Good. Because you mean the world to me and I don’t ever want you to struggle alone.” Her words were a balm to everything in him that ached or stung or bled. Their fingers laced together so tightly he hoped they’d never come undone.

“You,” he told her quietly, “are everything.”

Dry as a bone, she murmured, “Flatterer.”

He smiled and felt it down to his soul.

“That day,” she said softly, and his smile faded. “That day, neither of us gave the other a chance. You reacted badly to an admittedly confusing situation, and then I reacted badly to you reacting badly. I wish I’d been more understanding. But I was trying to protect myself—trying to avoid taking a risk, because the truth is, you scare me. You’re monumental. Avoiding everything between us seemed easier than facing pain. But I refuse to be afraid anymore, Red. You’re more important than that.”

Hope and relief and this impossible, incandescent happiness swirled in his chest, as if his emotions were mixing to create the perfect color for this moment. Something beautiful and brilliant and Chloe, like those cute blue glasses or warm brown eyes. “Maybe we should solemnly swear that in the future we’ll both keep our heads out of our arses.”

“Maybe we should,” she said with a slow smile.

“All right. I swear.”

“I swear.”

She held out her little finger, and he grinned. “What am I supposed to do with that?”

“Give me yours,” she said sternly. He did, and she hooked hers around his and said, “Now it’s official. We pinkie-swore.”

He snorted. Pulled her closer because he couldn’t resist. Her breath hitched as she leaned forward, her cheek brushing his. Just that slight contact sent a shower of almost-unbearable pleasure through him. He whispered in her ear, “We okay?”

“We are,” she said softly.

Something jagged and broken inside him smoothed out, slotting back into place so firmly that he felt like he should’ve heard the click. This was where and who and how he should be: with Chloe.

He stood, pulling her up with him. And then, because he was in that kind of mood, he picked her up. She gave a little squeak of surprise as he cradled her against his chest, squeezing her to him, breathing in flowers and vanilla. Everything wrong with his world righted itself. “Just so you know, you aren’t ever getting rid of me. You’re it, and I’m fucked. I’m completely fucked.”

She laughed, running a hand through his hair. The action was unthinkingly possessive. He closed his eyes for a moment on a wave of satisfaction.

“That’s good to know,” she said. “Where are we going, by the way?”

“My room. Since we’re officially okay, there’s no reason why you can’t sit somewhere comfortable instead of the floor.”

“Fair enough. We’ll just sit, though. That’s all.”