Our lips part and my eyes open and I’m looking straight at him when I answer. “It wasn’t just a one-time thing for me, either.”

A little smile tugs at the corner of his lips. “Promise?” he says, but it’s hesitant. Unsure. And his eyes drop from mine. His body tenses. And suddenly I realize that he’s bracing himself for me to shake my head or laugh it off. He’s bracing himself for rejection. My heart does something traitorous in my chest, and I struggle to swallow over the lump that’s forming in my throat.

“Hey,” I say, reaching out and touching the edge of his jaw, tugging his face back up so that he’s looking me in the eye. His gaze flickers back and forth across my face, catching my eyes over and over again as I do the same. I want to look at every bit of him, all at once. I feel like I could look forever, and it still wouldn’t be enough. I lean forward and press my mouth to his. “I promise,” I whisper as we part, and he smiles but even then it doesn’t quite meet his eyes.

“Hey,” I say again, because he’s not getting it. He doesn’t believe me. So I do the only thing I can; I bring my left hand up between us, holding my pinkie out to him. That makes the half-smile he was sporting turn full-fledged, and we’re both grinning like idiots as he reaches up and links his finger with mine and we waggle our linked hands back and forth, cementing the deal.

Then I kiss him again, just to make it official.

Chapter 16

Ash

This…this is nice.

Fuck. There’s that word again. Nice.

Before the crash, before everything that happened and all the shit that followed, I’d never really thought about what I wanted my life to look like. And when I did, what I brought to mind sure as hell wasn’t this. I always thought I’d be some famous goddamn artist, drinking and doing whatever drug I could get my hands on, living my life in the moment.

But this moment, this single snapshot in a day with Star, it’s nice. Spending our day together, fucking in her bed, dozing off next to each other. It’s nothing I’d ever thought I’d want for the long term. But now that I have it, I don’t want it to end. Five years ago, if someone had told me that this would be the fucking highlight of my life, I’d have laughed my ass off. I was an idiot five years ago. Star, these moments I have with her? They make me want more. They make me want to do better. To be better. Hell, just being here with her, walking my stupid mutt down the road with her next to me, it makes something in me tug. Like there’s a fishing hook looped behind my navel, and every time she turns her head and smiles at me, I feel drawn toward her, like she’s reeling me in.

We’d woken up this morning like we had for the past two weeks, in bed next to one another, me trailing my hands over her body, though her hair, her nuzzling into my chest, clinging to me like I’m something important. Something special. I’ve never felt special to anyone before. I kissed her head and run my fingers down her naked skin, over all the colors and designs she’d let me mark her with after we’d had sex. Her body was this gorgeous canvas, covered in my sketches. She was fucking beautiful.

Then she’d yawned and pressed her lips to mine, mumbling something about coffee before pulling herself up and wandering naked into the kitchen, and I’d been struck like lightning with a single thought.

She’s fucking perfect for me.

And she is. She really is, and there’s a war waging in my chest, because I know she’s leaving and it’s tearing me up inside.

I’ve finally found the perfect girl for me, and I’m going to have to let her go.

It fucking sucks.

That was hours ago, and I’m still reeling. I don’t know what I’m going to do.

Luckily, though, if Star notices I’m acting different around her, she isn’t saying anything. Instead she smiles at me as we make our way down the street, our fingers tangled together. As we turn the corner, Bruiser tries to make a dash after a giant orange cat that crosses his path, jerking on the leash hard enough that I have to drop Star’s hand and use both of my own just to keep him from racing off after that freaking giant cat. Seriously, that damn thing is easily twice the size a cat should be. Apparently the good people of the neighborhood don’t know the word restraint when it comes to feeding their pets. The thing practically waddles as it walks. Its tail whipping back and forth in the breeze, almost as if it’s mocking us, and Bruiser starts losing his shit, barking his fool head off as the cat trundles away like it doesn’t have a care in the world. Like it didn’t just almost run out of luck and meet its damn maker.

“Stupid cat,” I mutter, shaking my head as I pull back on Bruiser’s leash. “Yeah, yeah, yeah,” I tell my dog. “You want to chase the pussy. I don’t blame you.”

Star throws back her head and laughs, and that damn fishing hook sinks into my navel again, tugging me toward her at the sound. I don’t know if it’s the sound of her laugh that does it, or the sight of her dark hair tumbling down her back, or the long pale line of her throat, but either way, I can’t stop myself. I have to touch her. I reach out to snag her hand with my free one again. And she lets me, but then, an instant later, she shoots me a little grin and twists our hands around so that only our pinkies are linked.

Pinkie swear, I think, and duck my head for a moment, flashing back to our mornings in bed, and how our hands almost seem to gravitate toward each other’s, how our fingers link together in our own little promise, again and again.

I don’t know how I’m ever going to be able to let her go.

Suddenly Star stops walking, and I jerk to a halt beside her.

“Shit,” she murmurs. “Not again.”

My brow furrows, and I glance over at her. She’s staring down the street, toward her mother’s house, face torn between anger and sadness. What the hell?

I turn to look.

There, standing at the end of her mother’s driveway, is a couple. Nosy assholes, just like a few weeks ago.

Star was right. It’s happening again.

Shit.

Before I realize what I’m doing, I’m already moving. My legs are pumping and I can feel my jaw clench as I approach the intruders.

“Hey,” I snap as soon as I get close. What the hell do you people want? The words are on the tip of my tongue along with fuck off, but as soon as the hey is out of my mouth, the couple turns to look at us, and the words die before I can get them out. I recognize them.

They’re from the diner. The skinny waiter and the pregnant waitress. And judging by the looks on their faces, they aren’t here to start trouble like the stuck-up women in the overpriced tracksuits. In fact, now that we’re closer and I can really see them, they actually look a little . . . scared.

Oh, fan-fucking-tastic, I think. More people who think I’m going to run them down in the streets. But . . . no. Scared isn’t the right word. More . . . timid. Nervous at the very least.

“Can I help you?” I say instead, tugging Bruiser to a stop and twisting my hand around so I can link my fingers properly with Star’s.

“Uh, hi,” the guy says, his gaze darting between me and Star and then finally, after a few passes, back to the pregnant girl beside him. She gives him a wide-eyed look from behind her thick-framed glasses that speaks volumes. He shuffles his feet and clears his throat before turning back to us, sinking his hands into the pockets of his hoodie. “I’m York, and this is my sister. Um. Maisie.”