Page 69 of Fool Me Once

“A few days ago, I walked to the beach. I saw this piece by my feet, and I picked it up.” Taking my hand, she places it in my palm. “The edges are smooth enough. It was shattered recently, and it needs a little more time in the sea. But eventually, it’ll be round and beautiful. It’ll be a piece that people will see and think it looks worthy of taking home to their collection.”

She puts her hands over mine. “My edges aren’t smoothed. And I have to be completely honest with you, Smith—I don’t know if I’m ever going to be the Gemma I was before … everything happened.The girl you were with when I was only seventeen, when the whole world looked so … bright and promising.”

She swallows roughly. “And I don’t know if it’ll be too much for you to be with someone with as much emotional baggage as I have. But I hope it isn’t.”

She takes her hands from mine, tucking the glass back into her pocket. “I don’t want to wait until my edges are smooth again, Smith. Because even at my roughest, you loved me. I just want us to finally get our shot.” She looks down for a split second before moving her head back to look at me. “If you want it, that is.”

“Baby,” I whisper, cupping her face, “it’s theonlything I want.” I bring my lips to hers and kiss her quickly. “I would have waited a thousand years for you, Firefly. But I was really hoping I wouldn’t have to.”

“Really?” She sniffles.

“One thousand percent, Gem. Every part of me is forever changed because of you. And I haven’t been the same since I let you go the first time. I’llnever make that mistake again because I never want to have to live through not having you. Not in this lifetime or any other.”

I kiss her, and even though her lips are warm, she shivers.

“Let’s get you inside,” I murmur. “Toourhouse.”

“I love the way that sounds,” she whispers, holding her hands against my sides. “I really, really do.”

Something in her eyes tells me that even though she might not be completely healed, she’s getting there. They twinkle a little brighter than they did a few weeks ago, and her smile, it’s a bit wider.

It’s so good to see her smile. Like, really,reallysmile.

I would have waited my entire life just to see that once more.

Once we’ve peeled our jackets and boots off, the tension between us is thick as Smith carries my things into the house, and I trail behind him, breathing in the scent of this place that I’ve missed so much the past few weeks.

Storm runs around him, jumping up on the couch and curling up, and we both laugh.

“For a dog that’s supposed to be tough, that dude does not like the cold,” Smith says, shaking his head as he stops in his tracks.

I know what he’s thinking and what he’s going to ask. If he walks straight, it’ll lead him to the hallway where the three spare bedrooms are, but if he goes right … that’s the master bedroom.

His room.

Just seeing him stop and prepare to give me the option because he doesn’t want to assume anything or push me too far or too fast warms my chest. Smith is a tattooed man who has been known to take no shit, and yet for me, he thinks of my well-being before he lifts a finger or does anything at all that could potentially hurt me.

Before he can ask me what room to take my things in, I trudgearound him and head toward his room. “Well, what are you waiting for?” I smirk. “If I’m moving in with you—like really, really moving in for good—I’m not staying in a guest room.” I give him a playful expression. “Besides, your shower is bigger, and you have two walk-in closets, so …”

I wish I had a way to capture the smile that spreads across his face, taking me right back to a much simpler time, when we were just a couple of reckless teenagers who didn’t have a clue. For so long, he looked at me like he was scared he was going to hurt me or that he was sad at the way my life had turned out. Right now though, he’s not looking at me like that. He just looks … happy.

I made him happy simply by being here and by feeling better.

If that’s not love, I don’t know what is.

Turning, I give him one last little smirk before I walk toward the bedroom and step inside. I have plans for us for the rest of the day, but they don’t include us leaving this room.

I know he’s behind me when I hear him drop the bag and set the boxes on the wooden floor. I spin to face him too fast, speeding up my heartbeat, and I feel giddy.

The other times I asked—no, begged—him to have sex with me, I was running from my emotions. Now, I’m running to him because I want to be close to him.

His eyes rake over me, but just like he has for weeks, he’s afraid to make the first move.

“I truly appreciate what a gentleman you’ve been since I’ve been in Portland, Smith,” I say, strutting toward him. “But now, I’m going to need you to leave that shit at the door because it’s been far too long and I need you.”

“Gem, I can’t fuck you and not tell you how beautiful you are.” He swallows. “It’s impossible, and I won’t do it.”

“You can tell me those things all you want now. I’m done fighting the inevitable when it comes to you and me.” I bite down on my lip. “But while you do that, I want you to be a little rough with me and stop handling me like I’m a flower.”

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