Page 110 of Next Time I Fall (Excess All Areas 2)

“I want to meet her.”

“I miss your analogies. Helps me understand shit. And the way you cuddle up against my back until I turn over if I ever roll away from you.”

“You’re warm, and it’s winter,” she said, sleep lacing her words. “And it’s such a nice back.”

“I miss the way you dig your nails into it when you come, and the way you pretend you don’t like calling my dick Little Jase.”

She chuckled. “I’ll admit I miss Little Jase. I miss your dimples more, right now.”

He opened his eyes, even though he was tired, just to see her for a few moments more before she fell to sleep, and he couldn’t help but stroke his finger down the screen over her cheek. “I miss the smell of you. So fucking girlie, but I can’t get it out of my head.”

“I miss the way you walk around in a towel after you get out of the shower.” The words were now mumbled.

“I miss the way I feel just being around you. Like there is someone on my side. Someone in my corner who has my back. I miss feeling safe.”

Her lips opened slightly as her posture went soft.

I miss the way your hair catches the winter sun. I miss that snow angels and hot chocolate energy of yours. I miss the way you look at me sometimes, because I can feel how you love me. And yeah. I know you love me, sweetheart, because I see it in your eyes, I feel it in your fingertips. You have a shitty day and I’m the first person you want to tell about it. And I know it because I feel it too.

“Good night, sunshine,” he said softly. “I love you.”

18

Butterfly wings flapped a steady beat in her chest as the arrival doors of Manchester Airport slid open.

In two more steps, she’d see Jase. At least, she hoped he’d spot her in the flood of people all anxious to be off a long-haul flight.

She’d missed him, with a longing she hadn’t known she was capable of. Her father had spent the last four weeks giving her every professional opportunity. But he’d also raised the issue of Jase and their relationship twice more. Different contexts both times, but similar message. Rock star relationships didn’t last. One was during a conversation about a celebrity divorce between an aging rocker and his young wife, who didn’t seem even remotely comparable. The second, when she’d told him that she’d be happy to run his studio in the UK but only if it was in Manchester. When he’d pushed her for her reasons, she’d told him that Zoe was there. It was only a little more than an hour’s drive away from her mum, that Manchester had a stronger reputation for music than London, and that yes, Jase was there. And why wouldn’t she try to give their relationship the best try she could?

She’d wanted to be mad. But he’d tried so hard in so many other ways. And she understood that his own lived experience said it wasn’t a good idea. And as a child of that kind of mess, she sort of understood it.

When her gaze finally landed on him, a woman was taking a picture of him with two awkward-looking teen boys. But his eyes weren’t focused on the camera, they were scanning the arrivals area.

For her.

Good night, sunshine. I love you.

Though they’d been whispered, she’d heard them. They’d buoyed her through the rest of her stay. And they’d gone some way to insulate her from her father’s concern.

When their eyes met, he grinned, muttered something to the boys, and picked up a large bouquet of yellow roses.

More flowers. Like the ones he’d sent her while he’d been away. And the parcel she’d received with fifteen Curly Wurlys in it, one for every day until they were reunited. It had arrived six days before she left, thanks to the postal service, so she’d eaten two-a-day to catch up. It had also contained a candle with his initial on. She’d lit it every night as she got ready for bed, pressing a kiss to it with her fingertips before she blew it out, hoping he was sleeping, dreaming of her.

He waited for her to step out of the rush of people, then hugged her as she let go of her cases. His arms snaked around her waist, the flowers pressed up against her back, his breath warm against her ear. “I fucking missed you,” he said, quietly.

“I missed you too.”

He cupped the back of her neck and pressed his lips to hers. Everything about them familiar. The taste of him, the way his tongue teased hers. The way fireworks exploded inside her at the simplest of touches.

She settled into the warmth of him, letting the feel of his arms and the scent of him wash over her. She wasn’t sure if it was possible for someone to wither from lack of physical contact, like a plant deprived of water, but she’d come pretty damn close.

Being with him felt like home.

“Thank you for coming to get me. It’s such a relief to know I don’t need to navigate my way to your house.”

“As if I’d let you travel alone. I should play it cool, but Alex will probably tell you anyway, I’ve been here for two hours just in case you got in early. These are for you,” he said finally, switching the roses for her heavy tote bag.

She pressed her nose into them and grinned at the sweet gesture. “They smell so good.”

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