Page 19 of Imperfectly Perfect

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Still, Fallon could enjoy looking for now. She could enjoy wondering and imagining. She could be here for what they had in this moment and nothing else. At least not until they had a chance to genuinely talk about whether more was something they both wanted.

Savannah set several bottles and a small can of Coke Zero on the counter. Fallon watched with rapt attention as Savannah moved the bottles, sliding them across the laminate countertop as she poured a dash of something and twisted the cap back on.

“What are you making me?” Fallon’s chest tightened as she watched Savannah's dexterous fingers move. What else could she do with those fingers?

Savannah looked over her shoulder, her blonde hair sliding over her back with the move. What Fallon would give to be able to tug on the ends just a little bit. To run her fingers up into Savannah’s hair and turn her head so they could kiss. She waspretty sure that every thought she had could be read across her face, and for the first time in a while, she didn’t mind it at all.

“I’m pretty sure you said I could make you whatever I wanted.”

“I did,” Fallon answered, stepping closer. She couldn’t resist any longer. She would push the boundaries of what they’d set just slightly enough to find out if Savannah was interested in having a more open conversation about what they could become together. “So what is it?”

“Nothing special,” Savannah murmured, her fingers trembling as she reached for the next bottle.

“Then you can tell me what it is.” Fallon leaned her back against the counter, facing the opposite direction of Savannah in the small kitchen. She wasn’t going to move now if she had a chance.

Savannah poured the last bottle in and then added the Coke Zero on top. She dropped a straw into the glass and mixed everything around as best as she could before handing the glass to Fallon. The glass was cold, but Savannah’s fingers were warm. Fallon stared into the concoction, her heart stuttering up a few paces now that they’d touched again.

When she would have expected Savannah to walk away, she didn’t. She repeated her steps and made a second drink. Finally turning, Savannah lifted her glass up, expecting a toast. Intrigued, Fallon chinked their glasses together before wrapping her lips around the straw and sucking. Immediately, she smiled.

“Long Island.”

Savannah blushed and shrugged slightly. “It is one of my favorites.”

“I’ve never seen someone make one before, or realized just what goes into it.” Fallon reached forward and turned one of the bottles around to read it.

“So you do drink hard liquor?”

“On occasion.” Fallon set her glass down, leaning in. She knew the height difference could intimidate even the best of them. Fallon was tall to begin with, but she refused to not wear heels just because of that. What she really wanted right now was a nice drink of Savannah.

The banging on the door surprised them both. Savannah jumped. Fallon tensed. She held her breath as she turned toward the door they’d come in while Savannah bustled her way out of the kitchen.

Should she follow?

Instinct told her to stay put, hide away where the person on the other side of that door couldn’t see her, but this was Savannah. And if there was danger, it would be better for the two of them to face it together. Wouldn’t it?

Stepping to the edge of the kitchen after setting down her drink, Fallon watched with rapt attention as Savannah opened the front door. She didn’t even look through the peephole to see who was there. Did she know whoever this intruder was? Just based on the knock?

Fallon’s chest constricted tightly. Those same old fears she’d thought were left behind rearing their ugly heads. This was something she knew she and Athena shared, even if Athena never said the words out loud. Swallowing the lump that formed in her throat, Fallon stepped around the corner just in time to see a burly man with a potbelly and a small girl cowering beside him.

Tears sprang into Fallon’s eyes, but she controlled them easily enough.

She had been that girl more times than she cared to admit, and she would never put herself in that situation again. She would never allow herself to be subject to abuse of any kind. And if that meant living and staying alone, then she absolutely would.

“It’s your night,” the man said loudly, his voice reverberating through the small apartment as if the louder he was the more people would pay attention to him.

And to be fair, that probably worked a lot of the time.

“Forrest, I have company.” Savannah’s voice shook.

Fallon was certain that it was a warning for him to behave, but she wasn’t convinced that Forrest—who was undoubtedly Savannah’s ex—was going to comply with her subtle request. Fallon straightened up to her full height. She was just as tall as him now. And she had no issue giving him a scathing look, one that meant business, one that should put him in his place.

“I called you a dozen times and you never answered.”

“You didn’t…” Savannah trailed off.

Fallon could feel the tension coming off her in waves from feet away. And poor Brinley just stood next to her father, her shoulders rounded, her chin tilted toward the floor, and she didn’t even bother looking up.

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