Page 57 of A Little Tempting

“So?” I prod.

“So, what?”

My brows crease, and I reach for one of the pillows, changing its cover. “Never mind.”

“Nah.” Rounding the edge of the bed, he takes the pillow from my grasp, tosses it onto the bed, and sits in front of me. “Tell me.”

“It’s… You’re so casual about bringing up Archer and how everything went down, but as soon as your mom is brought up, you refuse to tell me anything about her.”

“You didn’t ask.”

“You were so upfront at the restaurant I didn’t think I had to.”

“Good point,” he concedes. “Well, I hate to break it to you, but there isn’t much for me to tell. She died in childbirth, and my dad got pissed any time I asked questions, so I never had much to go off of. I know her birthday and her name, and she attended LAU. That’s it.”

Pity flares in my stomach, but I keep my expression blank, praying he can’t feel it. Call it a hunch, but I feel like if he did, it would make him push me away, and for some reason I literally can’t understand I don’twanthim to. Even if it’s stupid. Even if it’ll bite me in the ass one day. I want to get to know him. To see this side of him.

“Well?” The mattress dips as I sit beside him, shrinking the distance I hoped to keep between us, but I’m too invested to move away. “What was her name?”

“Heather. Heather Reeves. And her birthday is…tomorrow, actually.” His eyes widen with surprise. “Fuck.”

“What do you normally do on her birthday?”

With a shrug, he leans back on the bed, resting on his bent elbows. “Nothing.”

“You don’t go to her grave or anything?”

“She was cremated, and I’d rather put a bullet in my skull than visit my dad’s kitchen.”

“Kitchen?”

“Her urn is tucked between the empty sugar jar and an overflowing ashtray.” He scoffs. “Quite the resting place, right? Why do you do that?”

“Do what?”

He touches my hand beside my face, and I realize I’m putting pressure on a particularly sharp point of my headache. I hadn’t even noticed.

Dropping my hand to my lap, I shy away from him. “It’s nothing. Just a headache.”

“You still have your contacts in?”

I nod.

“Where’s your case and glasses?”

“Probably in my room,” I admit. “I should probably?—”

“Stay here.” The bed creaks as he stands up and heads into the hall. The familiarthump thump thumpof feet on stairs echoes, only to be replaced with silence as I close my eyes, counting the seconds. When I reach eighty-seven, a squeak from the front door sounds, followed by the same beat of footsteps.

“Here.” Reeves hands me my backpack, glasses, and contacts case. As I take them, he adds, “I’ll be right back,” then disappears like he did a minute ago, returning with his arms full of clothing. “Take this.”

“What is it?” I ask while multitasking like a champ and removing my contacts.

“Something for you and Finley to sleep in.”

“I can borrow something of Griffin’s?—”

“And let me miss out on Everett’s face when he sees you and his baby sister wearing my shirts?” A low laugh escapes him. “Come on. Consider it an early birthday present for my mom.”

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