Page 95 of Sweet Like Whiskey

I don’t mean to say the words aloud, but I can’t take them back. It’s impossible now.

Ash lets out an almost wounded sound, his nose brushing mine as he speaks. “Why would I possibly leave my home, Jack? I’m not going anywhere. Truth or lie?”

I let out a breath, hands holding tightly to Ash’s lower back. No, I wasn’t prepared for this man. Not his storm-lined eyes. Not his goodness or his laugh. Not the sound of him singing in the kitchen or the smile he wears when it rains.

But he’s here. He’s here, and he says he’s not going. So I speak the only word I can.

“Truth.”

And I pray like hell I’m right.

Chapter 23

Ash

“I have a problem,” I say, plunking down on a stool in front of Virginia inside The Barrel.

“Oh boy,” my friend mutters. She tucks her towel into her apron before leaning her elbows onto the bartop. “Do we need drinks for this?”

I shake my head but reconsider. “Actually, water?”

Virginia nods, pushing away and grabbing a pint glass. She fills it with water and slides it over, waiting as I guzzle nearly the entire thing. “Better?”

“Yeah, thanks.”

“All right, spill.”

I take a deep breath, hoping the steady buzz of conversation in the bar is enough to afford us some privacy. “Jackson loves me.”

Virginia is quiet for a moment. “Baby boy, you’re gonna have to give me more information than that. Because I can not, for the life of me, figure out how that’s a problem.”

My laugh is pained. “He said it a week ago, and I haven’t said it back.”

“Okay,” she replies slowly.

“I want to say it back,” I explain.

“O-kay,” she says again, even slower.

“But he told me just after we’d had this incredibly intimate evening, and he admitted he was scared I’d leave, so I couldn’t say it then because I didn’t want it to sound like a false assurance. And now, it’s been a freakingweek, and there’s too much pressure to do it right.”

Virginia lets out a breath, her head bowing for a moment. “Men, I swear to God. You’re all idiots.”

“Hey.”

“Ash, you just need to tell him,” she says seriously, hazel eyes meeting mine. They’re so familiar, so comforting, even when Virginia is giving me a dressing-down. “It doesn’t need to be special, and it doesn’t need to be this big to-do. You love him. You tell him. Don’t you think that’s gonna mean more to him than you waiting just to get itright? Especially considering it’s been a week. He’s prob’ly sweating bullets.”

“Well,” I hedge. “He only kind of said it.”

She drops her head again. “Jesus effin’ Christ. Can you tell the story from the beginning?”

I groan, the sound part laugh, part desperation. “He said, ‘I think I’m falling for you,’” I say, using my best Jackson impression. “After we had sex. For the second time. In a hayloft.”

Virginia blinks at me.

“Say something,” I moan.

“You’re both idiots.”

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