Page 30 of Quiver

I want to know his favorite foods so I can learn how to make them.

His worst memories so I can replace them with better ones.

Hell, I’m more interested in what brand of socks he wears than I am in what’s happening in the world, and that alone should terrify me. We haven’t known each other long at all—not long enough for me to be feeling like this.

But I do, and I don’t want to stop.

Sunday evening comes in the blink of an eye, and the two of us are spooned on the couch as I prepare myself for him to leave. “I miss you,” I mutter, placing a kiss on the back of his neck.

“I’m still here,” he says with a breathy laugh, snuggling into my embrace.

“Yeah, but you’re leaving soon, darlin’.” My hand rises to his chest, feeling the thump of his pulse beneath my palm. “And I’m afraid you’re taking a big piece of me with you.”

“I’ll be back,” he whispers, spinning in my arms until we’re face to face. “I’m not going far.”

A sad smile crosses my lips as I place a gentle kiss on his. “When will you let me in, Az? When do I get to see these pieces of yourself that you keep so hidden?”

“Soon,” he promises, and I swallow past my disappointment and nod.

“You were wrong, you know.”

“About what?”

Pinned by his stormy gray eyes, I hesitate. “When we first met, you said it was your heart at stake, but sweetheart… I’m afraid I’m going to be the one that ends up broken.”

“Please don’t say that... Beau, please.” The depths of his eyes beg, far more desperate than his spoken words, and as much as my own broken heart terrifies me, hurting his is something else altogether. So I drop it, snuggling him against my chest. “When can I see you again?” he whispers, like he's afraid of the answer.

A frustrated sigh fills my lungs as I think about the never-ending to-do list looming over my busy schedule. “Parent-teacher conferences and end-of-year planning are taking up a lot of my time this week, but I’m free after work on Wednesday. We could, uh… maybe I could meet your cousin? Hang out at your place?”

He tenses in my arms, and I brace myself for the rejection before he even forms the excuse. “She, um, isn’t really up for company right now.”

More disappointment rises in my throat, but I shove it down, past the prickly thorns that fight to keep it on the surface. “Alright, that’s fine. How about you let me take you out for dinner?”

“That would be perfect,” he whispers, and I swear there’s a hint of a quiver in his voice.

Wednesday comes, and the stress of Sunday is forgotten as soon as I see Az bopping along my driveway with a giant grin on his face. The mysterious Uber is nowhere to be found, and it doesn’t even surprise me anymore. New questions form for every one that gets answered, and I’m beginning to wonder if I’ll ever truly know him.

Leaned against the doorframe, I cross my arms and watch his approach. The sun casts a stunning glow off his skin, and a white gift bag swings by his side. I arch my brow in question as I nod at it. “What’s in the bag?”

“Surprise for later.”

“What is it?”

“It wouldn’t be a surprise if I told you, now, would it?” He skips up the stairs and leans against me, a palm landing on my chest as I pin him with a raised brow, gesturing at the bag. Bottom lip jutted out, he whines when I don’t kiss him. “Are you seriously holding out on me because I won’t tell you what it is?”

Unable to hold my composure any longer, I grin and give him what he wants. As soon as his lips meet mine, that feeling of beinghomehits me again and I can breathe. My lungs can fill, and that heaviness that’s been weighing on my shoulders lifts.

We climb into my truck and drive into town, Azrael squirming beside me. If he were a dog, he’d be wagging his tail. “Out with it,” I say, and he bites at his lips, like the secret might burst out otherwise. “Come on, you know I don’t like surprises.”

“It’s supposed to be for dessert.” He wiggles again as an excited hum builds in his throat, and I can tell he’s close to cracking.

“Please?” I reach over and weave our fingers together, putting on my best pouty face. “Pretty please?”

“If I give it to you now, we’ll be late for dinner.” Instead of dissuading me, that only piques my interest even more.

“There are no reservations, darlin’, and this is a small town on a Wednesday night. I’m not exactly worried about getting a table. Our time is our own to do what we want… and I want to see what my surprise is.”

“Oh, hell… fine. So pushy,” he adds in a mutter, but I can tell he’s grinning.

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