Page 95 of Between Here and There

Emily shifts beside me, already deep in sleep. Her hair spills across the pillow in unruly waves, a strand falling across her cheek. One hand is curled up under her cheek, and the other is sprawled toward me like she’s marking her territory.

I reach out, carefully brushing the strand of hair away from her face. My fingertips barely graze her skin, but even that small contact makes something tighten in my chest. How is it possible for someone to feel like home and freedom all at once?

She murmurs softly in her sleep, and I freeze, afraid to wake her. But when her hand unconsciously reaches for mine, tangling her fingers with my own, I’m in awe. Even in sleep, she relies on me.

And in this moment, I know—deep in my bones, with a certainty I can’t deny. Yeah. I love her. Completely, ridiculously, and without a single doubt.

CHAPTER FORTY-SIX

Emily

Ihave about thirteen voices inside my head, all vying for attention. Five of them are screaming at me to tell Joshua how I feel, to just rip off the Band-Aid and see what happens. Another five are practically hissing at me to keep quiet, to savor this fleeting moment without ruining it with my messy emotions. And the last three? They’re pure chaos—a relentless spiral of what-ifs and why-nots that make me want to scream into a pillow.

I spent the last three nights in Joshua’s room. In his bed. In his arms, smothered with his soft kisses and silent cuddles. We spent every night together, we finishedallthe strawberries, and yet, we never talked about it. About where we stand. We don’t talk about what happens later when I move into my new apartment. And honestly, I’m starting to think that’s for the best. Maybe silence is safer.

And also, I’m scared to even bring it up. The feelings I have for Joshua—they’re nowhere near casual. They’re big, overwhelming, and they’re growing faster than I know how to handle. And it’s unfair. I’ve always been the one to hold back. To guard my heart. Not even that cheating situation with Rob caused me to crumble like this. But Joshua? He’s making it dangerously easy to let my walls fall. He doesn’t just knock on the door of my carefully protected heart—he barges right in and rearranges all the furniture. And the scariest part? I like it. Too much.

Which is why I need to be smart about this. Logical. Practical. Joshua Santiago is a man who moves through life like a force of nature. He’s untethered. He thrives on adventure, on the next big thing. And while I might have been his big thing for the past weeks, I won’t be for much longer.

And that’s fine. Ithas tobe fine.

I glance at him now, sprawled on the bed, his breathing steady and deep. He’s a study in contradictions—so open with his affection but so closed off with his intentions. If I stay in this any longer, I’ll lose all perspective. I’ll start to want things I know he can’t give. He stirs, shifting closer to me, his arm draping across my waist like it’s the most natural thing in the world. His warmth seeps into me, and I close my eyes.

God, how did I let this happen? How did I let myself fall for him so completely?

While he said that he wanted to be more than my friend, that doesn’t mean that he loves me, right? Maybe he just meant that he wanted to sleep with me. And, well, it happened. So, maybe it’s done.

The rational part of me—the one voice that thinks she’s the epitome of calm logic—pipes up with an irritatingly reasonable suggestion:Or you could be an adult and just ask him.

Sure. Just ask him. Easy, right? Except it’s not. Because asking means exposing myself, laying my feelings bare, and inviting rejection. And even though I’m trying to steel myself against the worst, there’s something in me that hopes he feels the same.

Hope is dangerous. It’s a gamble I’m not sure I can afford to lose. So, I let the voices argue while I sit in silence, trying to convince myself that this is enough. That I can take these three nights and keep them as a memory, a reminder that, for a brief moment, I let myself feel something real.

I haul my luggage away from the guest room as Joshua materializes from the kitchen.

“You don’t have to leave,” he says.

“I have a three-page contract that says otherwise,” I reply with a chuckle. He helps me by setting my luggage by the door.

“Will you let me drive you to your new place?” He blocks the front door and looks at me with pleading eyes.

“No, really, I can handle it,” I say.

“At least tell me where you live so I can visit,” he insists, stepping closer. His words are laced with that easy confidence he wears like armor, but I can hear the edge of something softer beneath it.

“Josh…” I trail off, hesitating. The logical part of me, the one that’s been shouting for days, is telling me to stick to the plan. Keep things clean. Don’t prolong the inevitable.

“I mean it,” he says, his voice quieter now. “Just because you’re moving doesn’t mean I can’t see you anymore.”

I stay silent. For a moment, I contemplate. “Let’s be honest. It does,” I say. When he looks confused, my heart shatters into a million pieces. But I can do this. I’m strong. Always have been. Two truths and a lie, right?

“It’s been great, Joshua,” Truth. “And I won’t forget what we had.” Also true. “But, I don’t think I’m ready for a new relationship yet.” Big, giant, terrible lie. A lie he probably sees right through.

He shakes his head, already letting me know that he doesn’t buy my lie. “Why are you saying goodbye, Emily?” his voice quivers. “You don’t have to, you know? You don’t have to pretend that you have it all together. We can be–”

“Friends?” I finish for him. He looks at me with an expression that says he didn’t know how to finish that sentence.

To my surprise, he says, “We can be more. Weshouldbe more.”

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