Unbreak My Heart(29)

I drop the unused coins back into my jeans pocket while he slides in some money and punches the button for the grape Hi-Chews.

I grab the packet and unwrap the end, handing him one. “Peace offering.”

He pops it in his mouth. “Yum. I like it when you come in peace.”

My eyebrows rise. “Naughty,” I whisper.

“Who me?” He adopts an I’m-so-innocent look.

“You know you are,” I say. I should stop grinning, but I can’t.

He smiles too, but then as he stares at me, the smile disappears. His eyes darken, and he moves closer. “I don’t feel like the strong one right now.”

Butterflies sweep through me, thrilling and scary. “Why aren’t you strong?”

His gaze locks with mine. “I need you to know, Holland, that I thought about you all the time. It was so hard when you left, and then you came back, and now you’re here in front of me. And when we kissed the other night, it felt like the only thing that made sense in the world. Do you know that?”

“I could tell when you were kissing me,” I whisper as I lean against the machine, his words sending my pulse racing, my hopes bursting free.

“But every now and then, other things make sense. Talking to Mike, walking through the fish market, messaging Kate . . .”

A light goes on in my chest, and my heart glows. I’ve needed this desperately—to know he has other routes to happiness that don’t go through me. I don’t want to be his crutch. I want to be a choice he makes freely, not a desperate second chance he’s clinging to. “That makes me happy. I want other things to make sense for you too.”

“They’re starting to.” He points to the packet of grape candy in my hand. “Like this candy.”

“I love that candy.”

His eyes sweep over me then lock with mine. “But you—you still make the most sense.”

My heart soars so high, so near to the edge of the atmosphere, I worry it’ll escape.

Because I know what he’s saying. We’re saying the word love without saying the word.

I drop the candy in my pocket, then raise a hand to reach for his shirt. “You make the most sense to me too.” I grab the fabric and pull him near, the wish to get closer to him blotting out my worries. “I’m not the strong one either. Forgive me for this moment of weakness.”

“It’s already granted,” he whispers as I bring those lips I love to mine.

I breathe him in and let his warmth spread through me. His kisses undo me. They weaken my knees. They flutter my heart.

I never knew a kiss could turn me upside down. But with Andrew, it feels like light and stars and hope and sex and love and all the moments I want to get lost in. It feels like flying, and I don’t want to land.

His lips trace mine, and I swear I’m soaring with open wings now.

I wrap my arms around his neck and bring him close, loving, just loving the feel of his body against mine. It’s mind-bending, unraveling, and I wish I could understand it, list out the elements that make me melt.

But the why can’t be duplicated—he kisses me like he loves me and like he’s in love with me.

That’s also why we have to stop. Our connection—for now—is fueled by a ragged need. He’s not ready for us again. He could lose himself in us, like we’re the Bermuda Triangle. As for me, my own desire to heal him is too consuming. It’ll consume me if I don’t take it slowly.

I remember some of Ian’s last words to me.

“He still loves you so much it hurts him. Give him time.”

I break the kiss, my hands on his chest, my breath coming fast.

His eyes are wild and hungry as he cups my cheek. “I’m not the stronger one, Holland.”

“Then I’ll have to be.” I peel his hand off my face and thread my fingers through his. “Let’s go see Kana.”

He needs that more than he needs more of my lips.





18





Andrew



On the subway, Holland’s busy reading a book on her phone, so I write an email to my sister. While primal instinct tells me to cut straight to the point, I rein that in. There’s a card from her in the pile on Ian’s desk here—it meant something to my brother. And if she came to visit him, I need to break out my best cordial self. Besides, she’s emailed me every week since the service, and every week before for the last few months. They’re short notes—mostly she checks in, or sends an internet meme. Usually, I’ve seen them already, so I respond with a word or two. Sometimes a sentence.



Hey Laini,



Hope you’re well and the kids and hubby are good. I trust everyone is busy in your neck of the woods. I’m in Japan right now. I needed to get away from LA, so I’m taking care of some things here. I heard you saw Ian earlier in the year. Would love to hear more. Call me or email me back.



Andrew



I hit send, rewarding myself with not-even-an-asshole-at-all points, when my phone buzzes instantly. That’s fast. But the reply’s not from her.

I click open the text from Jeremy, and a photo fills the screen. The shot is of a pretty brunette wearing a gray V-neck T-shirt and board shorts, her hand resting on top of a dog’s head. My dog. Sandy’s looking the other way, but I can see half of her furry face. I laugh as I read the text.