Page 62 of The Sweetest Chirp

I’m shaking my head before she even finishes her sentence. “That won’t happen ever again. I will never allow myself to take my fears and anger out on you like that.”

“You can’t say that. I’m going to piss you off at some point.”

“You’re right and I’ll do the same to you, but we’ll communicate.”

She scoffs. “’Cause we’re so great at communication. Even our families know we suck when it comes to each other.”

“So, let’s change that,” I say, holding her gaze. I brush her jaw with my thumb. “I’m communicating my need to take you to this party so that everyone can see our gorgeous daughter with her parents.” The pride in that sentence slams into me. I want that. I want to be Arwen’s parents, not just her biological dad and mom, but her parents who are together, if that makes sense. “Still communicating,” I tell her and her lips curve. “I need to take you out. I need to sit across from you, without prying ears and a little girl who demands our attention, to spill my guts to you.”

“Your guts?”

“My whole fucking soul,” I answer, moving my hand up to brush my thumb along her jaw. “I should have done it so long ago.”

She takes in a deep breath, her eyes locked on mine, and I can feel her heart thudding against my chest. “I’m communicating that I’m scared I’ll fall desperately in love with you.”

My heart promptly explodes at her admission. “Good. That’s what I want.” Her eyes widen. “Say yes, Audrina. Go to the party with me, and then let me take you out before I leave for a week.”

Her lip trembles, but I can see the excitement in her eyes.

The love for me.

And I feel like I just scored a game-seven winner in the play-offs when she whispers, “Okay.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

Arwen asked for Thatcher to stay in bed with us again.

He eagerly agreed.

And while they slept, I traced his face with my eyes like I was memorizing my favorite song. And, in a way, the sharp angles of his face, the curve of his nose, the scar on his lip wherehe got hit with a stick and had teeth knocked out, all sing to me like a love ballad. He’s so unbelievably handsome, I couldn’t look away if I tried. I spent so many years in awe of him, but I never admitted it. Never explained how much I love the way his dark hair falls over his temples and brows. How he never truly shaves, only trims the hair along his jaw. That when he flashes me that wicked grin of his, my heart feels as if it is sprouting roses from the arteries.

Communication.

Why does that word scare me so much? He was a staple in my life. He was always there, and we got along great. But admitting that I feel something for him, that I have loved him for as long as I can remember in a non-brotherly way, has always tied me in knots. Not only was I scared of the rejection but also of the change that it would bring to our families.

Funny thing is, I was right all along. Or was I?

When his lips met mine all those years ago, it was perfect. It was right, and I wholeheartedly agree it could have been something if I hadn’t made the mistake of sleeping with Dart before then. That threw a wrench into Thatcher’s and my relationship and ended up ruining something before it even got started. We weren’t together, but from the way he acted, I should have suspected he felt something for me. At the time, I thought it was an “I don’t want my sister sleeping with my teammate” thing, but a brother wouldn’t get teary-eyed over something like that.

Thatcher had.

It’s insane how I never really noticed—or maybe I didn’t want to notice because it would have made me think I could act on my desires for him. Our past is such a mess, and it freaks me the hell out. But what freaks me out more is knowing I want to forget it all, throw caution to the wind, and give in to every oneof my desires. There is just so much pain and so many mistakes between us, however. Could we ever possibly move on from it?

Could we try again?

Thatcher has none of my reservations, though, as he holds Arwen on his hip, his large hand on the small of my back. His hand is warm, steady on me, as if everything before the moment he came back into my life never happened. He has been so attentive, and every time he looks at me, he makes me feel like I’m the only girl in the world. His eyes get this darkness to them when he looks at me that makes the brown of his irises seem black. He makes me hot everywhere, and it’s getting harder by the hour not to fall back in love with him.

Or, at least, admit that I have. Because, let me be honest, I never stopped loving Thatcher Orlov.

My chest aches as he guides me into Aviva and Nico Merryweather’s home. I haven’t been to this house since Nico bought it for Aviva after she became pregnant with their second child. The house is spacious, with an open floor plan that is very modern and has a chic feel. The house is fully decorated in Paw Patrol, and I swear on every surface is a sign with Vivian and a 4. When I left, Aviva had just given birth to Vivian, but I never got to meet her. Guess that’s about to change.

Not only is the house full of birthday décor but also photos of their family. Loads of shots on the ice of Nico in his goalie gear and Aviva and the kids. I get a burning feeling in my chest that I tell myself is indigestion, but really, it’s because I want this. I want a house full of memories of my family.

Of Arwen…and Thatcher.

And me.

Of us.

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