Page 35 of Offside Angel

“You don’t need to say anything right now, Mira. The only thing I need you to do is stay.” He kisses me and then makes his way along my jawline, his lips brushing against the shell of my ear. “Just stay and let me show you how good we can be.”

14

MIRA

This can be good.

This is good.

Zane told me I can take all the time I need. He told me he’d be patient with me. He told me that he loved me, for crying out loud!

So why does it feel like I’m drowning?

I look over and Zane is still asleep. One arm is tossed over his head and his chest is golden and obnoxiously perfect in the sliver of light cutting through the blinds. He hasn’t slept in this bed for an entire night since he brought me back from the motel.

At least one of us is doing better.

I clench my teeth and stare up at the ceiling. I’m doing fine, I insist silently to the whirring fan. I’m doing great, I inform the shadows.

The problem isn’t Zane or whether or not I love him—because I do. I know I do.

The problem isn't even whether I want to be here or not. Because, again, I do.

The problem is that I went from being chronically single, bordering on full-time hermit, to this. To sleeping in a bed with a man who can make my toes curl just by looking at me. To taking care of his son, who is feeling more and more like our son with every passing hour.

I went from the relationship equivalent of a kiddy pool to fighting for my life in the open ocean that is Zane’s unending patience with my bullshit. My “bullshit” being an unhinged brother with homicidal tendencies and a loose regard for the law.

“Mira?”

The little whisper no more than three inches from my ear almost stops my heart. I jolt like someone shocked me with defibrillator paddles and sit up to find Aiden standing next to my bed.

“Oh my God.” I press a hand to my chest. “You really are like a ninja. Where did you come from?”

Aiden looks at me like I've lost it. “My room.”

I chuckle. Ask stupid questions… “Do you need something, bud? It's early.”

“I'm hungry,” he whines. “I want pancakes. Your pancakes. The ones shaped like a mouse.”

I saw the recipe in a kid's magazine in his therapist’s waiting room and snapped a picture. As soon as I showed him, pancakes in any other shape were a disgrace. Mouse pancakes or bust.

It's been almost a month since I've made them. For some reason, I’m surprised he remembers.

I glance behind me and Zane is still asleep. I’m glad; he needs the rest.

I slide my legs to the side of the bed so Aiden and I can sneak downstairs, but then I stop. I remember Zane’s wide eyes last night after I woke him up. He was shaking when he grabbed me and kissed me. He watched me like he thought I’d disappear.

If he finally sleeps through the night and then wakes up to an empty bed, he’ll freak.

So I gently wake him.

Despite how much he’s already slept through, his eyes pop right open. As soon as they settle on me, a lazy smile curls the corners of his mouth. “Good morning.”

See? Toes = curled.

He fists his hand in the back of my shirt and tugs. “Maybe before Aiden wakes up, we can?—”

“Too late,” I squeak. I shift to the side so Zane can see Aiden.

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