Page 45 of Forever After Fall

“There’s someone for everyone.”

“Look at you being all sentimental. So cute on you.”

“I’m serious. While we’re giving each other shit, how long are you gonna keep on keeping on with your Casanova act?”

“No one said I’m Casanova. Far from it. I just don’t like the idea of settling down. Makes me fucking itch. And if there were a right person for me, I think I missed that chance a long time ago.” Bo shakes his head and shrugs.

“Got someone in mind?” I have my own suspicions where my brother is concerned, but I don’t voice them.

“Nah. Just talking theoretically.”

I have a feeling that’s bullshit. But again, I’m not trying to rattle his cage.

“Yeah, well. There’re a lot of fish in the sea, right? Chances are another swims by that might bite…”

“And want a confirmed bachelor who spends all his time elbow-deep in grease? I doubt it.”

“Stranger things have happened.”

“Yeah, well, I’m all right. Between you and Cade and Hazel, I figure that one of you’ll end up letting me rent a spare room in your family home in my old age. Get set up with a real nice deal without any of the hassle of walking down aisles and picking out drapes.”

I shake my head at his depressing view of relationships. I won’t push him. He wants to keep up his bachelor life; he’s free to do it, and he gets enough shit from my sister that he doesn’t need another opinion in the mix.

“Such a pessimist,” I mutter.

“You used to be too.”

“The right person. The right time. It changes all of that.”

TWENTY

Anson

My heart stops when I open the door and see her on my bed, lit up like an angel from the soft glow of the lamp in the corner. She’s on her knees, watching me warily. I can tell she’s on edge. Worried she’s done the wrong thing. Picked the wrong thing. Disappointed me somehow.

But I’m fucking in love with it.

In love with—no.

Fuck.

Not now.

I’m not getting in my head right now. I can’t risk ruining this. I need it too badly. And apparently, so does she. At least if the look on her face is any indication.

“You forget your costume, darlin’?” I shut the door behind me out of habit. I know we have the house to ourselves, but I want our bubble. I want this space to be just ours for tonight. Seared into the memory of the sheets and the walls. Fuck knows I’ll need those memories for the long winter I’m gonna face when we call this quits on Halloween.

“No. I thought…” Her words fade as I approach the bed and reach out for her bare thigh. The corner of the fabric brushes against my palm, and I swear I feel it wrap around my heart. Shrouding me in hope I have no business having.

But she’s in my shirt. One of my Briggs Construction button-downs with half the buttons undone. It’s too big for her, pooling over the tops of her thighs and hiding all her soft curves underneath the drape. The sleeves are unbuttoned and hide her hands; only her pretty little manicured nails are peeking out beyond the cuffs.

She’s in my shirt. And nothing else, if I had to guess.

“I was expecting some of those fishnets or some angel wings. Wondering how long it was gonna take me to get the glitter out of here.” I drag my knuckles over her soft skin, and her eyes follow the motion. “What do you call this?”

“Yours.” Her lashes lift slowly, and her eyes meet mine the way a nervous wild animal does when you stumble into each other out in the woods, vulnerable and a little wary, measuring up how you’re gonna handle them, showing you something real in the middle of a day flooded with artificial deadlines and blinking screens.

“Mine?” I echo her, wanting to be sure I’m not reading more into this than I should.