Page 108 of The Pocket Pair

He trails off, the happy, boyish look fading into something so deeply painful that I wrap my arms around his waist, careful of his injuries.

“Is this okay?” I ask.

Chevy rests his chin on top of my head. “This feels like how I want to spend the rest of my life. Without the seventy-two stitches and the sling, that is. I could also do without the audience,” he says as someone in the background says, “Awwww.”

“Chevy, about your dad …” He stiffens, but then exhales deeply and nuzzles his head into my neck. “You have to know that just because he’s your dad, it doesn’t mean that you’re going to be like him in that way. You are a great guy, Chevy. Faithful. Constant. Amazing.”

“Why, Valentina—it almost sounds as though you love me.”

I pull back, meeting those deep blue eyes. “I do. I love you, Chevy. I have for … well, I don’t know when this turned from a crush into what it is now, but it’s been a long, long time.”

“Same,” he says with the kind of flirtatious smile that gets my heart racing. “Only I didn’t really allow myself to look at you that way, to admit the things I felt.”

I smile. “So you stuffed the good feelings right down there with the not-so good?”

“Yep. And now, before you go, I need you to know how I feel. I don’t know how to do this, I want to do this.”

“To make sure we’re on the same page—what’s the this you want to do?”

His look turns downright wicked, and I feel a blush coating my cheeks. “I want to do lots of this-es. But to start with, I’d like to ask you to be mine.”

“No break?” I ask.

“No breaks. Other than the distance, which might kill me. But I know this is a great opportunity. Personally and professionally. You have to go. Heck, maybe I’ll finally get a passport and come visit sometime.”

“I’d love that.”

“And meanwhile, Winnie and I agreed to start therapy to deal with all our stuff.”

“I think that’s a really good thing, Chevy.”

“Hey kids,” Winnie interrupts. “I hate to do this, but Val—what time is your flight? Because I think it’s boarding and you aren’t through security.”

Chevy reaches his good hand up again, tucking my hair behind my ear before tracing my cheekbone. “I’d love nothing more than to ask you to stay, but I love you too much to be selfish with you.”

“We can write letters,” I suggest. “Emails. And there’s an app I use to talk to Mari. We can call and even video chat.”

“We’ll need to do all that. And then you need to come back home, Tiny. Come back home. Home to me.”

“Yes,” I tell him.

He grins and presses his lips to mine. So soft it’s almost a question, and I can’t help but wonder if all this vulnerability has left him needing more assurance. Trying to be mindful of his injuries, I pull him tighter and let my mouth reassure him. Then reassure him some more.

When we pull away—only because Winnie says something else about missing my flight—Chevy and I are both panting and breathless and smiling big, goofy, in-love smiles.

“Is this really happening?” I ask Chevy.

He leans close, his breath warm on my cheek as he murmurs, “This is happening, Tiny. And I can’t wait to see where we land.”

FROM THE NEIGHBORLY APP

Subject: Real Cannons?

BagelBytes

In case you haven’t heard, Deputy Boyd was shot by one of Mrs. Fleming’s cannons yesterday and suffered critical injuries. I’m attaching a petition to have the cannons removed. They’re clearly unsafe and a danger to the community.

JB

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