Page 9 of Kissed and Missed

“It’s okay,” he replies in a rush, and something deep inside me warms as I realize he’s as nervous as I am right now. “I’m glad you called. Are you,I mean, do you need anything?”

“No.” I swallow. “No. I don’t need anything.” I hate that he thinks I would only call him because I wanted something from him, not that I wanthim. We’ve talked on the phone so many times, had conversations that ranged from sad to funny and everything in between.

So, why does it feel so different now?

In the kitchen, our ice maker clicks, and outside on the street, a car honks noisily. Routine, everyday sounds suddenly seem foreign as every cell in my body focuses on the speaker of the phone in my hand. Waiting.

Julian exhales heavily, and I imagine him in my mind’s eye, dragging his hand through his almost black hair, brow furrowed, serious, and intense in his concern. “Are you okay?”

“Kind of,” I admit with a weak laugh. “The day we last talked, my sister hurt herself pretty badly. She needed surgery. Now she’s staying with me to avoid the Dad and Sophie lovefest.”

“Fuck,” he curses quietly, sounding genuinely horrified. “Is she going to be okay? This is the ballerina, right? Lenora?”

I can’t have mentioned Leni’s full name more than once, and he still remembered. Sighing, I play with the ends of my hair, trying to vent some of my restlessness. “She tore a tendon during warm ups for her show. Just a freak thing. The doctors said it was likely caused by overtraining.” I drop my voice in the unlikely event Leni crawled out of bed to press her ear against the bottom of Sophie’s bedroom door to listen. “She probably won’t dance again. At least not professionally.”

I know Len is going to recover physically, but I’m not sure I’ve ever seen her so broken. The image of my fierce, brave little sister staring at that icy window will probably stay with me until the day I die.

Julian seems to know what I’m not saying. “She’s lucky to have you,” he tells me gravely.

I sniff, wiping my eyes with the back of my hand as the truth comes out in a rush. “I don’t know what to say to her. Everything that comes out of my mouth seems to be wrong.”

He sighs. “It is wrong, but nothing you say is going to be right, either. Not now. I can only assume, to reach that level in a very competitive, physically demanding industry, she must have loved it very much. Losing your life’s work at such a young age… I can’t imagine. She’s devastated, Honor. All you can do is be there for her and keep the door open for when she’s ready to talk.”

It’s good advice, but there’s something in his tone that draws my attention away from my own problems. “Is everything okay? With you?”

There’s a long pause. “I had a fight. With Riley.”

I wince. As if I needed a reminder that I’m speaking to the father of my ex-girlfriend. Or that I wish he was here so I could curl up in his lap and have him hold me. “I’m not sure I have any good advice for you. You kind of kicked my butt at the whole comfort thing.”

He laughs quietly. “You’ve helped more than you know. Besides, I’m not sure there’s anything that could be said to help this. She’s determined to think the worst of me, and I’m tired of trying to change her mind. I’ll make sure she knows I’m there for her if she ever needs me, or if she ever needs to talk, but beyond that...” His words trail off miserably, and the undercurrent of pain in his voice makes my heart ache so much worse than it ever did when I was the one affected by Riley’s callous, cruel attitude.

“I’m sorry.” I hug my knees to my chest, staring out the window now. The sky is gray, and a few fluffy snowflakes are drifting down, a quiet reminder of the storm that tied the two of us together for those three days. “You’re a really good person, Julian. One of the best. I’d like to think Riley knows that too. She just might need to grow up a little to realize it.”

My whole chest aches, and as Julian lets out a shaky breath, I’m not sure I’ve ever wanted to hug anyone more than I do right now. “I’m not that good a person, Honor.”

His voice is low and thick with warning. It spreads heat up my spine and makes my clit throb. It’s easy to imagine him hovering over me, his bare skin brushing against mine, murmuring quiet praise as he reaches between us, guiding his—“Are you okay?” I whisper, because I need to steer the conversation back into less dangerous territory. Territory whichdoesn’t lead to me imagining Julian Ballard pressing me into the mattress, his—nope. No way.

“Was it just because of your sister getting hurt that you didn’t call?”

This was the question I knew he would ask, just like I knew I wouldn’t be able to lie to him. “No,” I admit, my eyes burning. “No, that’s not the only reason.”

He doesn’t say anything, seeming to sense I need a moment to gather my thoughts. Finally, I swallow, pulling my knees tighter against my chest. “I like you,” I admit with a watery laugh. “More than I should. In a way… In a way I shouldn’t. I know we don’t talk about what happened in California, and maybe it meant nothing to you?—”

“It didn’t meannothingto me, Honor.”

A single, hot tear falls down my cheek, and I don’t bother to brush it away. “Nothing is going to happen, though. It can’t. And I get it, really I do, but I guess I thought if I just stopped talking to you, I would stop feeling this way.”

I’m not sure I’ve ever had a conversation like this—no, IknowI haven’t. None of my relationships have amounted to even a shadow of the space Julian takes up in my life. Never have I felt so much for someone or wanted to be close to them this badly.

Wiping a few fresh tears away, I keep going. “It’s so stupid, but I keep seeing ads for Valentine’s Day specials and hearts all over the place. Sophie is in a relationship now, and all my coworkers are talking about their plans, and it just sucks. It sucks so bad. I just want somebody to love me and buy me a stupid stuffed animal and flowers, but instead, I’m hung up on someone who can’t, who’ll never…” My words falter, because I can’t even say the words out loud, can’t acknowledge this man is never going to love me the way I wish he would.

Julian makes a soft, wounded noise. “Honor, baby?—”

“Please don’t call me that.” I let out a little sob. “Please. I’m mixed up enough as it is.”

He’s quiet for a few seconds, and all I can hear is the sound of blood rushing in my ears and the rumble of traffic outside. Then, Julian clears his throat. “I should go.”

Taken off guard by the abrupt dismissal, I sit up straighter, my stomach twisting. “I’m sorry. That was way too much?—”

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