Page 101 of The Keeper and I

She rolled her eyes and ran a hand through her hair. “Laci’s braving the hurt for you. When are you gonna do the same for her?”

He paused to let that percolate through his heart. He’d never thought about it in those terms, but it was true. Laci took a big leap toward him, and instead of reaching out and catching her, he’d drawn back and let her fall. He heaved a sigh.

“I’m a fucking idiot,” he said.

“Just realizing that now, are you?”

“How do I fix it?”

“Tell her you love her.”

“I know that. I meanthowshould I tell her?”

“I dunno, J. You know her better than I do. How d’you think she’d like to hear it?”

He considered that. He had no idea what she wanted from such a moment. He did, however, know what she deserved. Something thoughtful, personal, and extremely romantic.

“TheTitanicscene,” he said under his breath.

“What?” Ava asked.

“Her favorite film’sTitanic,” he explained. “We were watching it the night she said she loves me. Her favorite scene is when Leo’s doing the wee drawing.”

“The nude one?”

“The nude one, aye. She knows about my art now. We could recreate the scene and then I can tell her.”

Ava blinked. “She knows about your art?”

“Aye…” He rubbed his hand over the back of his neck. “We were watching that scene, and she told me it was sort of a fantasy of hers to have her portrait done. So…I showed her my work.”

“How’d she take it?”

“We fucked in front of my studio mirror.”

“Wow,” Ava chuckled. After a beat she continued. “I think that’s a great idea. But just to be clear, you do love her, right?”

“Of course,” he said.

It seemed obvious to him. Every time he looked at Laci, his heart thundered inside his chest. He painted her because he could think of no one lovelier to capture on canvas. He had kept her as safe as he could from Dane, and he would protect her for the rest of his life from anything that came her way. He needed to give her the words along with his actions.

“Good,” Ava said. “I didn’t want you saying it just so you don’t lose her.”

“I wouldn’t,” he assured her. “You’re right. I’m being a pussy.”

“Pure noonie,” she agreed.

He smiled. “C’mere, you.”

When he opened his arms, her eyes went wide, and she shrank away.

“Don’t you dare,” she warned. “The fuck you are, Jordan!”

It was too late. His arms went around her shoulders, and he held firm despite her wild struggle against his embrace like a cat trapped by an overly-affectionate toddler. Made all the more convincing by the strangled sounds coming from her throat even though his arms were nowhere near it. He gave her a squeeze for good measure while lifting her feet a couple inches off the floor to get a particularly annoyed grunt out of her. When he felt the sharp contact of her finger flicking his forehead, he released her.

She gulped in the air as if emerging from a pool. “Jesus fucking Christ, what was that?”

“A hug,” he said, rubbing his stinging forehead.

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