Page 56 of Wreckage

“Hot chocolate or coffee?” he asked.

I bit my bottom lip and considered the question. “Hot chocolate when I’m cold and want to cuddle. Coffee when I’m on the go and need a pick me up. You?”

He smiled. “Same. How about your favorite holiday?”

“I don’t have one.”

He lifted his brows at that. “What? Not even Christmas?”

I cast my gaze away from him. “No. Maybe when I was a kid. I haven’t enjoyed it since I was around eleven.” I looked back at him and offered him a sad smile. “What’s your favorite holiday?”

“Christmas,” he answered softly, not bothering to tell me why he loved it so much. Instead, he plowed on. “You were eleven when we met. When you moved in. Did you hate every Christmas you spent with us?”

I sighed. “It’s not that I hated it. I didn’t belong. After Mom died, it was even worse. I felt like an outsider intruding on you and Adrian’s life. Opening presents didn’t feel right.”

“Fuck, Elena,” he murmured. “I’m sorry you felt that way. I really am. I wish I could go back in time and tell myself to not be such a fucking idiot.”

“It’s fine. Really.”

“It’s not fine.” He brushed my hair away from my cheek and tuckedit behind my ear. “The next Christmas we spend together will be epic. I promise.”

I smiled at that and changed the subject, not wanting him to make promises to me he couldn’t keep for whatever reason. “Why do you like Christmas so much?”

“Presents. The way the air has all that happy energy.” He gave me a sweet smile. “I just love everything about it.”

It sounded like a Troy answer. Where Adrian was a dreary day, Troy was the sun peeking out from behind the storm clouds.

“If you could be any animal you wanted, which would you be?” he pressed.

“A bird so I could fly away, especially now.”

“Same,” he answered grimly. “But like a big bird. Nothing lame like a finch.”

I laughed softly at that. “Don’t hate on finches. Anything with wings works for me.”

“Like bugs?” He raised his brows.

I laughed again. “Even bugs.”

“OK, so which kind of bug would you want to be if you could be any bug?”

I rolled my eyes at his goofiness. “Uh, a butterfly so that I could be pretty.”

“Oh, little dancer,” he murmured, his mood shifting. “You’re fucking gorgeous. I wish you could see yourself the way I see you.”

My cheeks heated at his words, and he leaned forward and brushed his lips against mine.

“What are we doing, Troy?” I finally whispered as he pulled away.

“I don’t know about you, but I’m enjoying kissing you.”

“But why?” I searched his face, hoping for an answer that didn’t confuse or hurt me.

He was quiet for a moment, contemplating his answer.

“I guess I want to get to know you. I want… so many things.”

“Why now?”

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