Until You (The Redemption, #1)(30)

“It’s just a pipe dream.” One I’ve thought about more and more while being forcibly sidelined by the department.

“Pipe dreams can become a reality,” she says, and I respond with a chuckle laden with doubt. “Leaps are hard. Scary. Disconcerting. I get that, I’ve been there, but it doesn’t mean you won’t land on two feet.”

“What about you?” I ask, more than fine switching the subject off me. “Tell me about your job. Have you always wanted to be an editor?”

There’s that hesitation again. That invisible wall that prevents her from saying more.

It’s subtle, and she’s good at keeping her guard up, but I’ve made a living catching nuances, and she most definitely has some.

“Yes. No. Like most things in life, it was never something I expected to be doing. I took some courses at a junior college. Assisted an editor who doled out small jobs to me so I could learn and she could critique my work. She thought I had a great eye and encouraged some of her clients to use me when her schedule was full. Besides, who doesn’t love to get lost in fictional worlds?” She watches the girls, her profile all I can see to decipher her expression. “Reading was my escape for the longest time.”

“Escape from what?”

Her smile is quick, and her chuckle is tinged with the slightest hint of nerves. “Good one, Paige,” Tenny says in regards to another dive before rising from her chair and grabbing a towel that Paige asks for.

One I could have easily tossed her way if Tenny hadn’t gotten up so quickly to have a reason to avoid the question.

I watch her sit on the side of the pool, her legs slipping into the water as she dangles them over the edge. The girls light up as she asks them questions about the game they’re playing.

There’s a reason she’s here in Redemption Falls.

Just like there’s a reason I’m here.

I guess we’re all escaping something in our lives at some point.

I have a feeling hers is significantly more than most. My guess is an abusive or demanding ex. Someone she clearly fears. But at the same time, that is such a contrast to the confident and carefree vibe she emits that I could be wrong.

Maybe she’s gained some of that back in her time here just as I’m looking to do.

But the unspoken answer circles in my mind the rest of the night as we finish our drinks and the girls finish swimming.

“I didn’t mean to avoid your question,” Tenny says as I walk her out to go home.

“What question is that?”

She levels me with a look that says don’t be an idiot. I laugh. I can’t help it. She joins me for a beat before her expression falls, and her eyes grow serious in the darkened night. She opens her mouth to speak and then closes it a few times. It takes everything I have not to tell her it’s okay, that she doesn’t have to speak—

Either that or kiss the hell out of those lips and tell her that way.

But after all the freaking months I’ve had to spend in therapy, I know more now than ever that people have to talk in their own time. Pushing them is selfish.

I reach out to hold her hand. It’s the simplest of touches but that doesn’t mean it doesn’t light every one of my nerve endings on fire and beg me to act on the urge to kiss her.

“You don’t have to answer the question, Tenny. I was just trying to get to know you better.”

She looks down at our hands, and when she looks back up, emotion I can’t name is swimming in her eyes. “I was escaping something, Crew. Something that might seem like nothing to others but that really affected me.” She sucks in a shaky breath and then continues. “I’m not ready to talk about it yet. I might not ever be. But rather than lie about it to you, like I normally would others, I feel like you deserve the truth. The problem is, I’m not ready to put the truth out into the world yet. Okay?”

The okay kills me. The hitch in her breath. The break in the syllables. The hope that I’ll understand woven in it. All three kill me. Who the fuck hurt her and how?

“Okay,” I murmur and, without thinking, pull her into me and wrap my arms around her.

It’s meant to be a friendly hug. One offering comfort and support to a friend who clearly needs it.

But it only takes a split second to notice the way she fits perfectly against me. The smell of shampoo in her hair and the scent of the summer sun on her skin. The feel of her arms wrapping around my waist, and her hands pressing into my back as she hugs me back.

And the way her body tenses when I can only assume she suddenly feels the same awareness as I do.

“I’m sorry,” she whispers and goes to step back but doesn’t fully commit to the movement.

The two of us are in that awkward state of being too close while I look down and she looks up to me.

I can feel the warmth of her breath on my lips again. Can see the widening of her eyes. Can feel the tightening of her hands on my flank.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to . . .” I don’t finish the words because I damn well meant to.

I want this kiss.

I want her.

Giggles erupt at my back. When the two of us jolt away from each other, I know exactly what I’ll find when I look behind us.

And I’m right.

Two matching faces, eyes wide and noses smashed into odd positions against the screen.