Page 102 of Forever Mine
Without saying goodbye, he turns his phone off and stares at the blacked-out screen.
I slip inside the room and set the plate and waters on the nightstand. “Picnic in bed? I brought tacos.”
“Can’t turn down tacos.”
He butt-scoots over and makes a place for me, but I crawl on top of him and cage him in.
“Hey.” I brush my nose against his.
The smile that lights me up in every way comes out. It’s like seeing the sunshine after weeks of cloudy skies.
“Hi.”
“Just wake up?” I ask.
“Phone woke me up.”
His lips are pillowy soft when I press my mouth to them. “Ash came by.”
“He did?”
“Mmm hmm. Shaun asked him if you were coming tomorrow. I told Ash we’d be there.”
Elijah doesn’t say yes or no, just nods.
“Who was on the phone?”
“Beverly.”
His mother is tenacious, I’ll give her that. Mr. Barnes told her about the accident, and she’s been calling Elijah every fucking day, wanting to see him. It’s not my place to tell him what to do about her. She’s his mother, not mine. I’ll support whatever decision he makes, but if she hurts him again, I’m siccing Fallon on her.
“Let’s eat. I’m starving.”
Sitting cross-legged, I put the plate between us.
“Ryder make these?”
“Yep,” I reply with my mouth full.
If Ryder didn’t already have his future set with running his dad’s garage, I’d suggest he open his own restaurant. Everything he makes is fucking delicious.
Elijah finishes off one taco in seconds. He hasn’t had much of an appetite lately.
I remove the stack of paper towels Liz buried in my pocket and hand him one.
“I love you,” I tell him.
Elijah’s gorgeous hazels raise, and for the first time in a week, I see it. The spark. Him. My Elijah.
He carefully licks his lips, his gaze glued to me. “I need to tell you something.”
Caressing his cheek, I reply, “Ash told me.”
Elijah dips his chin to his sternum. “You should have heard it from me. I’m sorry, Julien.”
“To answer the former, yes, you should have told me. To the latter, you never have to say you’re sorry. Not to me.” I reach for his hand, twining our fingers together, hoping to alleviate any lingering doubt or fear. Smiling, I say, “A wise man once told me,‘You’re my boyfriend too, you know. It’s not a one-way street. We’re in a relationship together. Me and you. What hurts you,hurts me. Your fights are my fights. And dammit, if you haven’t figured it out by now, I’m completely and totally in love with you.’”
His lips part as if to speak, but no words come out. Instead, he leans in and kisses me. The taste of him, mixed with the lingering flavors of Ryder’s cooking, is a spicy symphony on my tongue.
