Page 39 of Getting It Twisted

Surprise hits me first, with a spike of anxiety, followed by a rush of relief. I return the hug, wrapping my arms around his sweaty bulk, feeling his warm muscles against my skin. I close my eyes and fill my lungs with his scent. He’s so warm. He smellsso good. For the first time since I came back to town—maybe for the first time in years—I feel safe. And I almost say it.

I came back for you. Not for the house. For you.

His palms stroke my back. “Sorry about the sweat.”

“It’s okay.”

It’s more than okay. Better. I’m way better now. My heartbeat slows, and my chest doesn’t clench quite as tight. I sigh into the embrace as his arms tighten around me. He rests his head on my shoulder and breathes in, sniffing my hair.

I huff out a laugh. “That tickles.”

“Sorry.”

He backs away. I don’t want him to, but we can’t stand here hugging forever, I guess. Just then my stomach growls.

“Hungry?” he asks.

“Yeah.” The last meal I had was breakfast, consisting of a lonely ham sandwich.

“I’ll make us dinner.”

I’m about to tell him good luck finding something, but then he shows me a grocery bag. Of course. So he brought me tools, cleaning supplies,andfood.

He fries up bacon and boils pasta in a creamy sauce. By then, munchies have set in for real, and I moan unabashedly while I scarf down the food.

He watches me with a pleased smile on his face. “Good?”

“So fucking good.” I can’t remember my last “proper” meal, except for that steak at Albany. For the past week, I’ve survived on Cup Noodles, lunch meat, instant coffee, and cigarettes.

I wipe creamy sauce off my chin and jerk my head toward the patio. “How did you know that would work?”

“You always used to calm down when I hugged you.”

I take another bite, ignoring the flutter in my chest. “I did?”

“Remember when you fell off your bike and scratched your knee up real bad?”

“Yeah. I still have the scar.”

“You were shivering like mad and freaking out, and then . . .”

“Then you hugged me.”

He nods. “And you calmed down. I thought it might work this time too. You need to be touched.”

Well, in that he is correct. Our eyes meet, and even though the goal is wide open for a flirt, I can’t bring myself to do more than smile at him.

I’m losing it. Off-my-rocker losing it.

“Here.” He throws me a lollipop from the grocery bag. “They were on sale.”

I unwrap the candy and pop it into my mouth. “What’s this? A substitute for your dick?”

He laughs and shakes his head. “You’re an idiot.”

“Yeah, but I’m hot,” I say, words garbled around the sucker.

He raises a brow at me and smiles. It’s a fond smile, much like how he used to smile at me a long time ago, and my heart does a weird flip in my chest. I swirl the candy in my mouth, letting the sweet red flavor coat my tongue.

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