Page 23 of Alfie: Part Two

Frankly, I wanted him here too. He was safe here, and he didn’t have to worry about where to sleep the next night, if he was going to be able to afford food, or if his fuckup brother would get them both killed.

“Is that him?” Colby pointed up the street that joined with West’s in a Y junction. “Everybody drives a Mercedes here.”

I squinted in the direction he was pointing at the same time as my phone rang again. Fuck yes, it was West’s car.

“Okay, check in on the kids and don’t look out the window,” I said. “Shit’s about to get sob-fest ugly or hella nasty.”

Colby groaned through a laugh and ducked back inside, and I stalked toward the driveway and hurriedly checked my phone.Not now, Dad. I’d call him later.

My heart started pounding as West rolled up the driveway, and he flashed me a soft smile before killing the engine and getting out.

“Hi,” I said. “Didju win?”

He chuckled through his nose and shut the door. “Of course I did.”

Yeah, of course. Golf was so fucking boring, but he was the hottest golfer on earth. I’d watched him on that driving range thing a few times.

My stomach tightened as he rounded the car. He wasn’t going for his golf bag first. That was usually his MO. Had to get the clubs into their storage in the garage. Not now. Hopefully, he had a more pressing matter to tend to.

I bit at the corner of my mouth. “So, um…should I run out for ice cream and tissues, or should I drop my pants?”

He shook his head in amusement and walked toward me. The only thing that troubled me was his pace. He didn’t radiate urgency or nothing. There wasn’t enough purpose in his steps, all while…it wasn’t like he walked slowly either.

Maybe I was overanalyzing.

Maybe I was nervous as fuck.

My nerves were shot, my breathing was a little too shallow, my heart was slamming in my chest, and I swore I could hear my own pulse. Fuck me, what if he couldn’t reconcile?—

He came closer and closer. “In the end, I had to ask myself if I was sufficiently fucked in the head.”

Um, okay?

Without another word, he grabbed my hand and tugged me to him—just a simple pull, before I went way too willingly into his arms. Tiny explosions set off within me as the warmth from his body enveloped my own, and he squeezed me so tightly that my eyes welled up from sheer hope. Desperate, desperate hope.

Did this mean?—

“I’m a shell of a man without you, Alfie,” he murmured against my temple. I almost choked on my next breath, and I locked my arms around his neck. “Consequences be damned, you have to be mine.”

Oh God.

I screwed my eyes shut and tightened my hold on him, and all I could do was offer a jerky nod in response as all the emotions rendered me speechless. I sniffled and smashed my lips together to prevent an embarrassing display of the crazies.

Mine, mine, mine, mine.

I was starting to feel the urgency from him. It was in his hug, how hard he embraced me, and a forceful sense of being unable to let go. He’d thought this through. He’d made up his mind. And it was the man I knew, the man who didn’t walk a single step until he was ready to go the distance, something I’d found comfort in a million times before.

Years of tension began rolling off me, and I basked in the strangest, most overwhelming exhaustion that swept over me. It was a peaceful feeling. Like, I just wanted us to nap together in each other’s arms. No ice cream needed, no filth—yet. Just…resting and holding on.

“I love you,” I croaked. “I can’t live without you.”

He cleared his throat and gave me another squeeze. “I love you too. I think we’ve proven we’re useless without each other.”

I shuddered and buried my face against his neck.

Whenever I thought we couldn’t hug each other harder, we stepped it up, one tight squeeze after the next. Slowly but surely applying superglue to every crack.

“I’m so fucking tired,” I whispered.

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