Page 37 of Stay for Me
Sounds like something more than just protectiveness.
“Oh?”
He nods. “My father, well, he killed two people in a drunk driving accident.”
My lips part, and a soft gasp escapes. “Oh, Jacob.”
“It was terrible, and my brothers and I have only just really dealt with it the last two years. The people he killed were Ellie’s parents, and . . . well, it’s been a lot of unearthing our past.”
I move my thumb against his forearm. “I can imagine. I’m sorry if you thought I would be reckless.”
“I didn’t. I just wanted to make sure you were safe, Brenna.”
I don’t know if it’s the wine, but the air is so thick around us. He lifts his hand and brushes the pads of his fingers gently down my cheek. “Why?”
“Why, what?”
Why do I feel this way?
Why does your touch feel so damn right?
Why am I not stopping this?
“I don’t know,” I confess.
Jacob’s green eyes are soft in the moonlight. My breathing is heavy as his thumb traces along my jaw. “Are you going to be okay?”
I want to tell him no because this, right here, is making my head spin. He’s dragging me back to a place I don’t know if I’m ready to be.
I take a step back, needing to get control before I do something stupid like kiss him. I give him a soft smile, hoping that it lessens the awkwardness. “I’ll be fine. Thank you for bringing us home.”
“You’re good?”
“I’m good.”
And I am. I think I’m getting there, at least. While there are things that feel unsettled in my heart, I know that this is all part of the process.
Like the girl in the movie who is finding her legs, I might not be able to run yet, but I’m not crawling any longer.
Chapter Ten
Brenna
“Brenna?” A deep voice calls from behind me as I’m on my way to my car. I don’t have to think hard on who it is. I hear his voice pretty much once a week on my television. And I can’t lie . . . I am a little excited to see him since it’s been almost a week.
I take a deep breath and mask the slight joy racing through me as I turn. “Jacob, hi.”
“Hey.” He smiles, and I swear my heart sputters. “I was just finalizing some paperwork with Mrs. Symonds, and I thought that it was you.”
“Yeah, it’s me,” I say, feeling shy. “I was just heading to lunch and then I have a break before I have to get the kids from school.”
He nods. “A break?”
“Yup. It’s a luxury I do not squander. I have this glorious two-hour break once a week.”
“I don’t blame you. I was heading to grab a bite too.”
“Oh?”
