Page 80 of Lucky Strike

A pinprick of guilt pierces the dreamy satisfaction settling over me, and I rise, wincing as I tuck myself back into my pants. “Don’t move,” I tell her, kissing her. Wetting a washcloth from her bathroom, I come back and wipe her off carefully. When I’m finished, I pull her panties back up and wrap myself around her.

I want to tell her I love her. That I’d do anything for her. But if we go there, if we start making declarations and commitments, I’ll be evenmore distracted than I already am. There’s a reason I haven’t been in a real relationship since Liam’s mother died. Maybe that’s not fair, but I don’t have the emotional capacity right now. Too many people depend on me as it is. “I don’t want to fuck this up,” I blurt into Bria’s hair.

For a long, protracted moment, she’s quiet. Then she pulls the blankets up over us and turns to her side. Away from me. “You won’t.”

21.Bria

Now

When I wake up in the morning, Lucky’s midnight visit is the first thing I think about. If I wasn’t slightly sore, I’d wonder if I dreamt it altogether. How is it possible for him to be so needy, and yet to hold back, all at the same time? Because he is holding back. He was desperate for me last night, and then we connected—emotionally, then physically—and he backtracked.

He’s been like this since I moved in, two steps forward and one back, but after our time in Cape Cod I thought we’d turned a corner. I guess not.

After checking to make sure Liam’s still asleep, I join Nola downstairs for our morning coffee. Lucky comes down a couple of minutes later, seeming almost sheepish when he sees me. I glance at my watch, surprised he’s still home. Usually, by this point, he’s already at that boxing gym with Tristan.

He traces his fingertips along the back of my neck in passing. “Good morning.”

“Morning, love,” Nola calls from the pantry. “There’s coffee in the pot if you need it.”

“Morning.” I splash cream into my coffee, watching it swirl.

“You sleepokay?” he asks, holding his water bottle to the faucet as he fills it.

“I slept great,” I say truthfully, enjoying the pink tinge spreading up his neck. Conlan Lucky Kelly,blushing? “You?”

“Likewise.” The water begins to overflow, and he shuts off the faucet. “I gotta get going, but Bria, come get that thing from the car.”

Nola pops out of the pantry with a bag of flour, her eyes bouncing between us.

“Oh, right.” I push back from the table. “Almost forgot.” I follow him into the garage, my stomach in knots over whatever he's going to say. Maybe he regrets last night altogether. It was uncharacteristically irresponsible of both of us.

He opens the trunk, motioning me over. “About last night.” Glancing back at the house, wondering if Nola’s being nosy, I slip behind the cover of the open trunk. It’s ridiculous—that we’re doing it, that we’re hiding it, that anyone else would care about it. Lucky’s gaze drops to my mouth before returning to my eyes. “I should’ve been more careful with you.”

“I guess we both should’ve been more careful.”

“Yeah, but…" He frowns, biting down hard on his bottom lip. “I know better.”

“It’s okay.”

“It’s not.” He shakes his head. “I don’t want to fuck this up.”

“I know. You said that last night.”

“Because I mean it.” His phone hums loudly. He snatches it impatiently from his pocket, glaring at the screen.

There’s a part of me that always wants to comfort Lucky. To kiss him and hold him and calm him down. That was me last night. But morning Bria, the practical one, knows that I can’t give it all to someone who’s afraid to give it all to me.

Pocketing the phone again, he turns his attention back to me. “Do you trust me?”

“I wouldn’t have allowed last night to happen if I didn’t.” Pushing past him, I reach for a book in the trunk of his car without bothering to read the title. Nola doesn’t miss a thing, so I’m not going back empty-handed. “This doesn’t have to be anything more than what it is, so don’t worry about it.”

His expression flattens. I touch his cheek and walk back inside, the book tucked against my chest. I don’t know what he wants, and I haven’t had enough caffeine to try and figure it out. But Lucky can take care of himself. He’s been doing it for years.

He’s great at that.

With Liam starting preschool soon,I find myself daydreaming about how nice it would be to go back to school, too. When I first came on as Liam’s nanny, Lucky offered to cover the cost of my continued education while I was in his employment as long as it didn’t clash with Liam’s schedule. I should have plenty of time between drop off and pick up, enough for a couple of classes.

After Liam and I return from the Frog Pond one day, we settle down in the living room so I can research graduate programs online. Liam approves; having unfettered access to his iPad is a big deal. Setting him up with a juice box and bowl of pretzels, I browse the forensic psychology offerings at UMass and Boston University on my laptop. Northeastern has a good program, as well, but I’m more interested in the psychology itself than the criminal justice bit, so I exclude it from my final choices.

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