“Yeah?”

“You know I’m proud of you, right?”

I bite my bottom lip, trying to keep myself in check. If only he knew how hard it is to hear that. It’s not as if I don’t know. I do. We just don’t say things like that to one another, not usually. Platitudes are not who we are.

But even I can’t ignore the fire that ignites in my belly at his words.

“Yeah,” I say. “I know.”

He pulls up to the curb at the Green Monstrosity. Good. It looks like no one’s home. The house should be filled with people now, waiting. I’m about to open the car door when he reaches out and grabs my hand, stopping me. I stare down at my fingers on the handle. I wait.

“Tyson,” he says.

“What?”

“You haven’t even really looked at me since I picked you up.”

“I have.” I sound petulant. Defensive.

“You haven’t,” he rumbles at me. “I’ve been waiting.”

“For what?”

“For you to see me. What’s going on?”

Everything. “Nothing,” I say. “It’s not….”

“It’s not what?”

Damn him. “It’s nothing.” I turn to look at him and flash a smile, trying to make it as bright as humanly possible. Trying to make it so there’s no more questions. No more words. It almost works, because I can see the quirk of his lips as he starts to respond, just like I know he will. I smile at him like this, he smiles back. It’s the way we are. It’s how things work.

But it starts to crumble. It starts to fade. The smile I’m expecting slides back into a frown. Now it’s awkward, me and him, sitting here just staring at each other like we’ve got all the time in the world. And doesn’t something happen then? Don’t I feel a pang in my chest, a skipping beat in my heart? My hands would be shaking if they weren’t curled tightly around the handle. My knees would be bouncing if I wasn’t concentrating so hard on keeping them still.

He has such blue eyes. He needs a haircut, maybe in another week or two. I’ll have to remind him. There’s a little scar, just left and below his bottom lip. He doesn’t remember how he got it, only that it’s there. I wonder again if it came from that night, that night he screamed and wouldn’t stop screaming until his voice broke in half.

“Tyson,” he breathes. My name on his lips is like a revelation, and I want to break. I want to shatter. I want to tell him things I can’t even admit to myself.

“What?” I croak.

“You know I love you, right?” His gaze searches mine.

“Yeah.” Because

I do. I’ve known since the beginning. It’s inevitable—our word of the day, the word of our friendship.

“And you’d tell me if something was wrong?”

“I don’t….” I shake my head. “We’re best friends, right?”

“Right.” No hesitation. No looking away. “Like brothers.”

I ignore that part. “And you trust me?”

“Always.”

“Then I need you to trust me now,” I say, trapping him, even though I don’t want to.

He knows. His eyes narrow. “That’s not how this works.”

Tags: T.J. Klune The Seafare Chronicles Romance
Source: readsnovelonline.net