Page 65 of The Assist
We take our coffee into the lounge and collapse onto the couch. She pulls her knees up under her and tugs a blanket over her lap. It’s quiet again, but it’s not uncomfortable. It’s that kind of silence you get when you know the person next to you gets it. Getsyou.
She reaches for the remote and flicks on the telly, there’s some cooking show where the contestants are yelling about undercooked pastry on, and she smiles before she leans her shoulder into mine.
My arm comes up on instinct, curling around her without thinking. She settles in, like it’s the most natural thing in theworld. Like we’ve done this a thousand times before. But we haven’t. This is all new. Fresh and more than a little terrifying.
And maybe that’s why my chest tightens the way it does. Because I know myself. And I know what I feel when something starts to matter.
“I don’t know what this is,” she murmurs suddenly, her voice barely above a whisper.
I turn my head, but she’s staring straight ahead. “Yeah,” I say, matching her tone. “Me neither.”
She looks down at her hands. “I’m not good at this part.”
“What part?”
“The letting someone in part.”
I shift slightly, my arm still around her. “And you think I am?”
She finally looks up at me. “You make it look easy.”
“That’s because with you, itis.”
She doesn’t say anything for a long moment. Then she shifts again, her fingers brushing my chest, and before I can register what’s happening, she leans in and kisses me.
It’s soft. Uncertain. Her mouth is warm and hesitant against mine, like she’s testing the idea of us. My hand slides into her hair, anchoring her to me as I kiss her back, slowly, and deliberately. This one feels different. Like a question. Like she’s asking me if it’s safe to fall.
I don’t rush it. I let it unfold slowly, like a secret shared in the dark. And when we finally break apart, our foreheads rest together, breath mingling in the quiet.
Her voice comes next, rough and small. “I don’t know how to not be scared of this.”
My hand cups her cheek, my thumb brushing under her eye. “Then be scared,” I say. “I’m still here.”
She nods, her lashes fluttering as she blinks against the emotion building there.
I hold her tighter. “We don’t have to figure it all out today.”
She lets out a shaky breath, and for the first time since I woke up, I see the relief in her. Like maybe she’s not alone in this. Like maybewe’renot alone in this.
We sit there for a while, tangled in each other, watching the rest of the show in silence. And maybe we’re both terrified. But the longer I hold her, the more certain I become of one thing.
This isn’t just another phase.
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
MIA
Ihear the front door click softly and I stay curled on the sofa where he left me until the silence stretches long enough to be convincing. But the moment I hear his car pull away, I’m darting off the sofa and heading back into my bedroom like some lovesick teenager.
The pillow next to mine still holds his scent. That faint, musky aftershave and something deeper, something inherentlyhim. I bury my face in it for all of two seconds before I groan and shove it aside, flopping onto my back.
What the hell did I do last night?
I kissed him. But worse; I asked him to stay.
And then I actuallyslept. Not tossed and turned, not dozed for an hour and jolted awake with anxiety. I slept. With Dylan Winters wrapped around me like he’d never let go.
The sun slants through the blinds, and I squint up at the ceiling like it holds all answers. Like it’ll spell out what I’m supposed to do next.
