Page 94 of Fire in You

“What about you and that guy you dated?” he asked.

“There isn’t much to tell.” I tucked my hair back as I gazed out the window at the endless concrete of the turnpike. “We met at Shepherd. He asked me out, and I . . .”

“What?” he asked after a moment.

The reason why I’d gone out with Ben and stayed with him was embarrassing to admit, but since it was caring and sharing time, I forced out the truth. “I was just . . . I was just lonely. I wanted to be with someone and he was interested in me.”

Brock was quiet for so long that I had to look over at him. His profile was stoic, made of marble and ice. “Did he treat you well?”

I squirmed. “That’s a weird question to ask.”

“You never brought him home to your parents.”

“That’s not an indication of how he treated me,” I pointed out.

“Did he want to meet your parents?”

I looked away. “Not really.”

“So did he treat you like you deserved?”

Uncomfortable, I folded my arms. “Most of the time it wasn’t bad or good. It was just . . . somewhere in the middle. I don’t regret the relationship. I learned a lot from it.”

“Like what?”

“Like not to ever settle again.”

* * *

It was close to eleven when we pulled up in front of my parents’ house. My stomach was full of knots, but I was relieved to see there weren’t five hundred cars in the circular driveway. At least we wouldn’t have to deal with all my uncles and their wives and their herd of children.

I stared up at the double doors, excited to see my family, but also anxious. They could be . . . overwhelming at times.

Brock killed the engine, and a second later I felt his fingers curling around my chin. He guided my gaze to his. Leaning into me, he closed the distance and kissed me softly. It was a tender and sweet kiss, one that held infinite patience.

“You ready to head in there?”

Realizing he sensed the hesitation, I drew back and stared at him. I wanted to thank him. I wanted to kiss him again.

Rhage meowed pitifully from the back seat.

Laughing, I sat back and unbuckled my seatbelt. “I know who’s ready.”

We climbed out, and before I could grab the carrier, Brock already had it in his hand. Rhage was probably loving that. We’d walked up the driveway, leaving our bags to grab later.

The door opened before we reached it and out came my mom, a flurry of long brown hair and big eyes. One second I was standing on the porch, arm raised, and next Mom was wrapping her arms around me, squeezing the living daylights out of me.

“Mom,” I gasped, hugging her back. “I can barely breathe.”

“Deal with it.” She hugged me tighter.

I coughed out a laugh and then she pulled back, smoothing a hand over my hair, pushing it back from my face. Her eyes were watery as she smiled, then her gaze moved to Brock, and I winced in sympathy as she enveloped him in an equally suffocating hug. Somehow, he managed to hold onto Rhage’s carrier. Brock laughed at her exuberance and returned the hug with one arm.

“Hon, let them get in the house.” Dad’s voice rang out from inside the house. “They’ve been in the car for hours.”

“Hush it.” Mom let go of Brock and then looped her arm through mine as we started inside. “You’d think by now he’d expect how easily excited I am.”

“You’d think,” I argued dryly.

---