Page 105 of Over the Line

My heart squeezes. “Yeah. And I’m here too.”

“Just not in person.”

Another squeeze, almost violent now. “Honey—”

“Sorry,” she says, exhaling again. “That was bitchy.” Another breath. “I love you, and I’ll do that wherever you are.”

“I love you too.”

“Good, good.” A quick acknowledgment of my feelings that might makeherfeel something she’s uncomfortable with before pressing forward, moving on to something less tetchy—and seriously, it’s no wonder she and I are close. We’re flip sides of the same coin. “Anyway,” she says. “Knox told me that while Lake’s been extra grumpy lately, he’s a good guy.” A beat. “Maybe you just stumbled upon him at the apex of that and he’s swinging back to his normal self.”

That, I don’t know.

I just…also don’t want to look atanyof this too closely.

I don’t want to think about what there is about me that might make him be less grumpy—

It doesn’t matter.

I’m staying here until I’ve got things in place, a plan to move forward, and in exchange for that—and copious orgasms—I’ll make him as many honey rosemary mules as he wants.

And help him order more furniture online.

And cook a meal without burning it…hopefully.

Then we’ll move forward and each go our own way and everything will be great.

It’ll beperfect.

There’s noise in the hall, and Steve perks up his ears. “I’ve got to go,” I tell Ella.

“Okay, Nov,” she says, and then like the emotional ninja she is, pushing me to be better when she, herself, is stuck on the sidelines, she slips in some wisdom Iknowshe doesn’t accept into her own heart. “Remember that it’s okay to want something more than you think you deserve.”

My stomach flutters—fucking butterflies.

But I just say, “Yeah,” and hang up, trying to get them to settle, to pretend her words don’t land somewhere deep inside.

Because my parents left, my grandma died, my boss didn’t value my work, and my sister…well—

A sigh.

Sometimes I think I’ve already gotten what I deserve.

Forty

Lake

She smiles up at me,butterfly piercing in her nose twinkling from the lights overhead.

Steve’s body is a wriggly, furry mass in my arms.

“Hey,” she says. “How was practice?”

Shit.

Coach was in a fucking mood, not satisfied with anything we were doing, pissed off in general, and so he worked us hard.

Which meant our A to Z beforehand was dumb because Leo, Riggs, Knox, and I were slower than normal.

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