Oh shit. Slipping again. Me, giving cute pet names to my girl?
And there it is. My girl. Girlfriend. Lover. Friend.
“Come here.” I reach for her, and she crawls up to curl in the crook of my arm. She tilts up her face, and I kiss her, powerless to resist.
“Come here, babe,” she mutters on my lips, and I laugh.
Can’t count how many times she has made me laugh in these last days. More than I have in months.
“My babe,” I whisper, and she captures my lips in another kiss.
I’m still flying high. It’s warm and bright up here, and I don’t wanna look down. Those alarm bells? Let them ring inside my head. I don’t care.
I’ll take my chances.
***
It’s Wednesday, and work at Damage Control is slow. One of my customers calls to cancel, and I go out for a smoke. I send Dakota a text, asking how she’s doing, but get no reply. She was busy with a graphics project when I left home this morning.
Home. Yeah, it’s starting to feel like home now, more than ever. The thought of finding another roommate is impossible. I want to ask her to move in with me. Maybe tonight, after dinner.
If I manage to keep my hands off her long enough to keep my brain functioning.
Smirking, I shove the cell in my back pocket. So okay, a tiny twinge of fear still jabs into my insides. I’m still out of my d
epth, still floundering, but Dakota doesn’t seem to mind. She laughs, pokes me in the ribs, tickles me, then kisses me and fixes everything in my world.
She’s like magic glue. Pretty, sexy, crazy super glue that keeps me together when I think I’ll break down or lose it.
I’ll buy her a fridge just for her popsicles. I’ll buy her lollipops so that her lips always taste like strawberry candy. I’ll…
Fuck. I snort to myself and shake my head. I throw my cigarette stub to the sidewalk and step on it, then turn to go back inside, when my cell beeps with a message. Grinning, I pull it out.
But it’s not from Dakota. It’s from Matt. An icy feeling grips my stomach. Good news? No way. I open and read it. It’s short and just asks if I can talk.
I’m still staring at it, trying to gather the courage to call him, when the door of the shop swings open, and Rafe steps out.
“Hey.” He ambles over to me, hands in his pockets. “Got a minute?”
Can’t find my voice. Mind still caught on the message. Maybe it is good news. Why the hell not? Why does my mind have to go directly to the bad? Maybe Emma is better. Maybe there’s been a miracle. Medical miracles happen all the time.
“Z-man?” Rafe is watching me, eyes narrowed.
“What?”
“Relax, man. The guys and I just want to ask if you could talk to Dylan.”
“Talk?” I can’t form a coherent sentence. My mind feels torn into ribbons. My thoughts are threadbare.
“Yeah, talk to him. Ask him what is wrong. He won’t talk to us, but he’ll talk to you. You know that.”
I look down at my cell. I have to call Matt. No choice. “Okay.”
“Good.” Rafe nods, still giving me a suspicious look. “You all right?”
I press my lips together and shake my head.
“Zane—”