Page 94 of Near Miss

I squeeze my eyes shut. “I told you where my lines were. I told you my boundaries. And you’re sitting here asking for me to take them down.”

“No. I’m not.” He tips his head back, taking a measured exhale. “I’m not asking you to take them down. I’m asking foryou. Who you are ... lines around you and all. If I’m enough for you, why can’t you believe that you’re enough for me?”

There’s just a tiny, little string hanging between the two ends of the rope of me now.

Give me to him, he wants us just as we are. The way we want him.

No. We weren’t enough for anyone else before and look what it cost us.

“I can’t.” My voice is just this tiny crack, because I don’t want either of those organs to hear me—they’re going to pull too hard and there’s going to be nothing left.

Beckett shakes his head, exhaling again, eyebrows lifting and those beautiful lips tug into a rueful line. No dimple to be found.

He takes my hands, bringing them to his mouth before letting them rest against his thigh.

“Do you have to go to practice tomorrow?” I ask softly.

“Nah. Coach Taylor told me not to bother showing my face until Wednesday, so I guess I get an extra day off.” He runs a hand along his jaw. “Couple of the guys texted me. Asked if I wanted to do something tomorrow. Take a drive. Clear my head.”

“That’s nice,” I offer. “You haven’t really spent time with anyone outside of practice.”

“I spend every day all day with them.” His voice is rough when he continues. “And I didn’t think anyone wanted to spend much time with me.”

“I think you deserve a break from your own expectations.”

A wry expression steals across his face.

My hands feather against his thighs. “Are you sore?”

“Yeah.”

“I heard I have a great bathtub.” I lean forward, dropping my chin on his shoulder, and there’s the ghost of something living peeking out from the curtain of his eyes. “I could run you a bath. Salts. Bubbles. I’ll even join you. I can read to you from one of my books.”

He turns his head, nose brushing mine. “I know what you’re doing, Greer. I see you, too, you know. Distraction. Deflection.”

“Is that so bad?” I whisper quietly. “That I don’t want to talk about something that’s going to hurt you more? That I want you to feel better?”

A muscle feathers in his jaw. “I suppose it isn’t, no. But this ... it isn’t going to work for me much longer.”

“Okay.” I nod, lowering my voice even more so maybe my brain won’t hear me. The thought of this ending, whatever it is, even though I can hear quite clearly what my heart thinks, makes me want to give him something, the way he’s given me so much of him. “Tonight, you just be you, and I’ll just be me. We can just have fun.”

If my brain hears me, if it does try to tug on what’s left inside me, I can’t hear it and I don’t feel it because Beckett smiles, and my heart starts to sing louder than any alarm bell I’ve ever heard.

It’s a nice sound.

“And then Baxtian laid Gaia down and—”

Beckett laughs, dropping his head back against the edge of the bathtub. “It doesn’t fucking say that.”

I tip my chin, holding the book up higher so the pages don’t touch the bubbles. “It could.”

“Okay then.” Eyes wide and maybe happy for the first time all night, he leans forward, sending water and bubbles sloshing over the curved porcelain of the tub, grabbing the book from my hand. “Give it to me so I can see what my guy Baxtian is up to.”

My mouth pops open, indignant, as one finger, half covered in bubbles and droplets of water, drags down the book. “Hey! You’re getting the pages wet!”

“I’ll get you wet.” Beckett grins, glancing up from the book, dimple popping in his cheek and eyes flashing. But he holds his hands up before tossing the book towards the safety of the bathmat. “Relax. I’ll buy you a new one.”

“What if this one is special?” I tip my chin up again, and my ponytail dips below the surface of the water.

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