Page 75 of Messy Strokes (Wrecked Roommates)

But I’m not ready to be alone again. Not yet. Not when I know he cares about us. Even if it’s only a little bit.

“Do you…?” I motion to the Chick-fil-A bag.

“Already ate.”

“Well, yeah. But it’s fried chicken. You never turn down fried chicken,” I tease. “I got the nuggies. We can share.”

He gets Penny out of her car seat and cradles her to his chest. “I shouldn’t.”

“Why not?” I ask, reaching for the bag and digging out the cardboard container to prove my point. “They’re yummy.”

His gaze caresses the side of my face as I pop one in my mouth, my cheeks round and full as I give him a cheesy grin.

Softly shaking his head, he plops down next to me, reaches for the remote, and turns onBrooklyn 99. As the sitcom jingle echoes through the otherwise silent family room, he settles into the couch and flips Penny around until she’s sitting on his lap, blabbering away.

Like we’re a normal family hanging out after a long day.

If only it were this easy.

19

Maddie

“Stop fidgeting,” Milo orders.

I flip the passenger mirror in his Subaru down, dragging my fingers beneath my eyes in hopes of touching up my already flawless makeup. “A little easier said than done.”

Grabbing my hand, he tangles our fingers together and sets them in his lap, forcing me to stop twitching. My heart flutters at the innocent contact, even though I know he isn’t holding my hand to simply hold my hand. He’s trying to keep me from losing my mind.

But still.

He hasn’t willingly touched me since the night we broke up. Well, other than the impromptu hate makeout session the other day.

Which was a terrible idea.

Andhot.

So freaking hot.

This?There’s only so much compartmentalizing a girl can do in one day. And pretending his touch doesn’t mean something to me is more than I can bear.

“Do they know I’m coming?” he asks, probably to distract me from the anxiety gnawing at my stomach or the way I’m staring at our tangled hands like a damn crazy person.

I blink slowly and tear my gaze away from them. “Yup.”

“I assume they don’t know what I do, though,” he mutters, his dark eyes flicking down to his shirt and returning to the road.

With a grimace, I take in the long sleeves of his navy blue button-up shirt covering the swirling ink tattooed along his forearms. I’ve seen him wear it before. He looks sexy as hell in it, but he’s always had the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, showcasing his hard work at the gym and his excellent taste in art. The fact he’s wearing the shirt with the sleeves rolled down is a stark reminder I asked him to.

And the stubborn bull was sweet enough to actually oblige.

“You didn’t have to come,” I remind him. “I can do this alone.”

“Stop pushing me away,” he orders.

Then stop making me want to pull you closer, I almost scream at him, but I bite my tongue so the words can’t tumble out of me.

Instead, I lick my lips and murmur, “Thanks for covering them up for me. I think the evidence of our sex out of wedlock crying during the main course will already be enough to push my parents over the edge. No use fanning the flames of disappointment, ya know?”

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