She pauses, then nods.
“That’s really sweet,” she decides. “Thank you.”
She rests against me again, and her hip is against my crotch and I have to grit my teeth to not flip her onto her back and take her here and now.
I might be a gentleman, but I’m still a man.
Five
I find Calla in the Commons room, sitting in a window seat, her forehead pressed to the glass, one leg tucked beneath her, one leg dangling.
She’s waiting on someone.
Her brother? Or me?
There’s only one way to find out.
I cross the room quickly and sit next to her.
&n
bsp; “Miss me?” I ask casually. She startles, then relaxes, her gaze sweeping me head to foot.
“Yes,” she admits.
She reaches for me, like I’m air and she needs to breathe.
I hesitate though, as a counselor eyes us.
“Let’s go for a walk,” I suggest instead. “Do you have time?”
She nods and slips off the seat, and grabs my hand on the way outdoors. I don’t want to raise the suspicions of the staff because I don’t want them checking in on us more than usual. But I can’t pull my hand away, either.
Our intertwined hands feel like an unbreakable bond.
I tighten my grip.
“The flowers are blooming,” she points out as we walk down to the pond. It’s more of a puddle, but it’s got ducks, and Calla likes to watch them. “They weren’t yesterday.”
“Spring is coming,” I agree.
“I hate it when things change,” Calla tells me seriously, as she pulls out a crust of bread from her pocket. She tosses it to the birds, watching them descend upon it.
“Change can be good,” I tell her.
“Sometimes.”
“Take me, for example,” I say. “I might change everything for you.”
Her lip twitches. “Everything? That’s kind of cocky, isn’t it?”
“Yes,” I agree. “It is.”
She laughs, and she likes my answer. She likes me. Still. Always.
“I dreamed about you last night,” she tells me quietly, like she’s confiding something secret. I study her. She’s serious, pensive.
“Did you?” I reply. “What was I doing?”