Page 33 of Keep You Close

Across the crosswalk, I could see a group of women smiling sweetly at us. I could practically see their thoughts all over their faces.

How cute is that?

AJ’s arm stayed around me even after the curb cut. And it wasn’t long until she was leaning her head against my shoulder, a gentle pressure that, thankfully, didn’t hurt. Because I liked having her close.

Did I maybe take the long way around to the main lot that required a trip through a narrow, sketchy little alley between a bar and some shops I’d literally never seen open in all the years I knew the area?

Yep.

And I wasn’t even going to feel guilty about it.

I rolled us all the way to the passenger side of the car, and her head finally lifted from my shoulder, looking at me with this dreamy haze in her eyes.

That was the moment.

The one where I could have just leaned forward.

Could have sealed my lips to hers.

But something in me chickened the fuck out.

Then she was coming back to herself, hopping up off of me, and rushing to unlock and open the door, before helping me slip inside.

I watched her as she pushed my chair toward the back of the car, regretting everything that led to that moment of uncertainty.

Because I should have fucking kissed the girl.

But I couldn’t.

And now the moment was gone, and we were back to being fucking roommates.

By the time we got inside, AJ was kicking out of her shoes, and I was going to let Samson, who was whining, out the back door where he promptly started to chase rustling leaves in the dark.

I was just coming back into the living room when I heard AJ’s phone ring.

Hers wasn’t like mine, always pinging, always ringing. I had a lot of people who wanted to make up for lost time by texting and calling me nonstop.

Her circle was, well, not even a circle. I was pretty sure the only people who ever contacted her were her boss and that coworker at her job with the two girls. And even then, only when there was a scheduling issue.

I saw her reach for it, frown at the screen, then swipe the screen and lift it to her ear.

“Hello?” she said, all cheery.

Then I watched as her entire fucking face fell.

I swear, in a split second, she lost an inch in height.

She just shrank into herself.

“Who was that?” I asked when she hung up, looking like she wanted to fling the phone.

“What?” she asked, looking up, doe-eyed. “Oh, uh, nobody. It was… the call ended,” she lied. “I… I need to go get changed,” she said, rushing down the hallway, and closing her door with a louder than usual slam.

Was that the fuck with the anger problem? Getting in touch when she went no-contact with him? She definitely seemed freaked the hell out when she heard whatever was said on the other line.

The thing was, she didn’t open up about that part of her life. And I had no fucking idea if it was appropriate to press about it or not.

Maybe that was a question I could ask my sister and sisters-in-law or even the Mallick women. I knew Lea came from an abusive background.

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