Page 64 of Leave Before I Love You
I shove inside, slamming into his chest and pushing him back until his door falls closed behind us.
“Avery,” he says my name again, his voice a soft balm for the rough uncertainty I’ve become twisted in since we got back.
I open my mouth, but the words catch in my throat. The jumble of feelings I’ve been carrying threatens to spill out all at once, but I don’t know where to start.
So, I say the only thing I can.
“I can’t fall asleep.”
He pulls back slightly to look me in the eyes, his crinkling carefully at the corners as he brushes my hair behind my ear. Then, without a word, he grabs my hand and guides me through the darkened space on gentle feet. It’s such a simple touch, but it sends a shiver down my spine.
His bedroom is dimly lit by the soft glow of a lamp on the nightstand. He pulls back the covers of his currently empty bed, motioning for me to lie down, and I do. The bed is warm, and it smells like him—clean and familiar. He climbs in beside me, his movements careful and deliberate, like he’s afraid I might shatter.
But I don’t hold back. I curl up against him, tucking my head into his chest.
He wraps his arms around me, pulling me close, and for the first time in two days, I feel like I can breathe again. He slips his hand into my hair, threading his fingers through it in slow, soothing strokes.
“I’ve got you,” he murmurs, his voice rumbling against my cheek.
Tears prick at my eyes, but I blink them away. He moves his hand to my back, tracing soft patterns there, and I feel the tension in my body start to melt away.
Then, softly, he starts to sing. The same song he used to hum on the island. It’s not perfect—his voice cracks a little on the higher notes—but it doesn’t matter. It’s him.It’s us.
And for the first time since we left the island, I feel like maybe, just maybe, everything will be okay.
The room is still dark, bathed in the faint glow of the moonlight spilling through the blinds of Henry’s bedroom. I wake slowly, warmth seeping into every part of me. Henry’s arms are wrapped around me, his body pressed firmly against mine. His chest rises and falls steadily, the rhythmic sound of his breathing lulling me even as I stir.
I’m so warm, so perfectly warm, and the hard muscles of his body are a comfort I didn’t realize I’d been craving. Being with him like this feels good. Too good.
And the growing ache between my thighs makes onething clear—I want him.
If I’m honest with myself, I’ve probably wanted him for far longer than I ever allowed myself to realize.
Memories of him flash behind my closed eyes, like an old movie reel playing scenes of my life with him always lingering somewhere in the background.
Him as a sixteen-year-old, all lean muscle and tanned skin, surfing on the beach with Beau while I sat on the sand, pretending not to stare. The day he graduated from college, standing on the stage with that crooked grin that made my stomach flip. I was there for my brother, but my eyes never left Henry.
So many memories. So many moments. And the realization hits me like a freight train. It’s not just that he’s my brother’s best friend. It’s so much more than that. I’ve been into him.Reallyinto him. For years.
It’s probably why you never noticed June crushing on Beau. You were too busy crushing on Henry.
The thought almost makes me laugh. How inception-y is that? My best friend was pining for my brother, and I was pining for my brother’s best friend while being oblivious to the obvious.
I shift slightly, reaching up to run my fingers through Henry’s hair. It’s soft and thick, curling slightly at the ends. His face is slack with sleep, his features relaxed and unguarded. This man is so handsome, I swear,GQshould call him for a front-page profile. Even like this, in the middle of the night, with his lumberjack beard, he’s freaking drool-on-myself stunning.
Eventually, his lashes flutter, and his eyes blink open. The startling clear blue warmth of them locks on mine, and we just stare at each other for a long moment.
So many men I’ve dated, and never once did looking into their eyes feel like this. There’s no awkwardness. No pressure. The air between us feels charged with something I can’t quite put into words.
“You okay?” he eventually whispers, his voice low and rough.
I nod. “Are you okay?”
“Now that you’re here, I am.”
His words burrow deep inside me, settling somewhere beneath my rib cage. My heart skips a beat, my eyes dropping to his mouth. Those perfect, full lips. I can’t stop myself from remembering how it felt to kiss him. How it felt to let myself give in to him on the island.
You want to kiss him again.
