I came to a slow stop, taking her in for a moment as she looked up to the clear sky, wiping beneath her eyes as though trying to stop any more tears from falling. As though people would judge her if she set even a single one free.
She has a lot of crap going on back home.
Why did I suddenly need to know about all of it? To know about all of her?
I had no idea, but when Phoebe closed her eyes against the world, lowered her chin and blew out a steadying breath, I knew I’d done the right thing following her. No matter how much she thought she could handle the hits on her own, she needed to know she didn’t have to. Eventually, she opened her eyes again, and when she turned in my direction and saw me, everything seemed to just... stop.
Only the two of us existed.
That look of sadness she wore almost made me believe that my heart hadn’t iced over the way I thought it had because I felt something. I felt a lot.
Her eyes trailed down to my chest before she rubbed her lips together. I should have been flattered by the look she gave me, like she couldn’t get enough, even in her time of crisis, but my ego didn’t matter then. Only she did.
All I could think to do was crook my finger upwards until her gaze rose back to my face again.
Knowing she'd been caught out ogling brought the slightest hint of a sad smile to her face, but I wanted more, so I closed the distance between us until I towered over her small frame. Sheblinked up at me, all lost and vulnerable. Some battles were too tiring to fight.
“If you want me to leave, I'll go,” I said gently.
“I'm not the best company right now.”
“I don't need you to be.”
She searched my eyes as though she could see things in them nobody else ever had. “What do you want from me, Henry?”
“Nothing.”Everything.
“Then, why are you here?”
“Because I know what it's like to tell people you want to be alone when alone is the last thing you need.” I reached up to pinch her delicate chin between my finger and thumb. “You just don't know how to ask for help when you need it.”
“You think I'm the same as you?”
“I think you're probably the better version of me.”
She swallowed as though my answer pained her somehow, and she reached up to wrap her fingers around my wrist and pull my hand away from her face. When she let me go, I hated the way my fingers itched to go straight back to her soft skin. Any part of it. I didn't care.
“This isn’t a good idea,” she said quietly.
“What isn't?”
“Us being... friends.”
“Who said anything about being friends? I can still hate you while looking after you.”
I didn’t miss the slight hitch of breath she took at that, but her scowl returned quickly. “Why would you, of all people, want to look after me?”
Wasn’t that the question of the fucking century?
“I know what it’s like when you feel like the walls of your life are crumbling down around you. No one should have to handle that alone.”
“You're too much of an arsehole to say sweet things like that.”
I couldn’t argue with her there. I had no idea where this side of me had come from. Especially not around her, the one woman I'd been trying to avoid being like this in front of since the moment I first laid eyes on her.
“I can be nice,” I told her. “I just like the fire being nasty brings out in you.”
Thankfully, the joke hit, and she huffed out a small laugh that somehow brought a fresh wave of tears to her eyes. “You're a real idiot, you know that?”
