I don’t move for her to pass. “I’m sorry . . . I-I didn’t—”
“It’s okay.”
“It’s not. I’m sorry for your loss.” I meet her gaze when it snaps to mine. “About your parents.”
“Thank you.” Her eyes. God, they cut right through my soul. Swimming with such pain and emotion, and yet for once she doesn’t shy away or hide. Her vulnerability is right there to witness.
The need to acknowledge it comes before anything else. “Do you miss them?”
“My parents?” she whispers.
“Yeah.”
“It’s hard to miss something you never really had.” Her gaze focuses over my shoulder, not quite meeting my eyes. She inhales sharply and I swear she doesn’t see the interior of the bus right now. She’s somewhere else completely. “Still hurts.”
Truer words were never said. How many times have I longed for my mother to embrace me in a hug, or my dad to invite me into his office for something other than a verbal lashing? How many nights did I come home to a giant empty house and wish for someone to notice I was there? To love me for more than my accomplishments.
She clears her throat. “Did I ruin the game?”
“Not at all. Austin took a call in Trent’s room. Trent’s texting Lexi, and Sean turned in for the night.”
“I should probably do the same,” she says without much conviction.
I don’t want her to go to sleep yet. Maybe it’s because I’m not ready to be alone, but more likely it’s that when I’m around her, everything feels lighter. Free. Good. For once she’s hurting and I feel this yearning need to comfort and console her. “Dessert? We haven’t had dessert.”
Her brows rise with surprise. “You’re still hungry?”
“Only for something sweet.” I clear my throat. “You? At least join me so I don’t feel like a loser.”
“Sure.”
Opal follows me back to the kitchen where we discover Trent passed out and laying long ways on the bench seat. He appears comfortable enough, and since Austin’s still occupying his room I don’t wake him. I also don’t want to share this moment. Something about this feels important. After all, I was the one to dredge up her past and make her cry. I need to make things right.
Reaching inside the freezer, I pull out two individual tubs of ice cream and then grab two spoons. I nod to the floor, near the recliners and where we have our guitar lessons. Opal pads over and takes a seat against the wall. I slide down next to her, delighting in the touch of her body against mine, even if it’s totally platonic.
“Chocolate chip cookie dough or bourbon pecan pie?”
“Both?” She lets out a laugh, but the sadness is still clear in her tone. “I don’t care. You pick.”
“How about we share? Best of both worlds.” I hand her a tub and a spoon, and then pop the lid off mine. I take a spoonful and groan against the metal silverware. “So good.”
“Better than my sticky buns?” She takes a scoop out of my container.
“That’s ludicrous. Your buns are the best thing that’s ever been in my mouth.” My eyes widen the second I realize what else that could mean. I turn my chin to find Opal staring with the same look.
A giggle bursts through her lips, and she covers her mouth, either to cover the sound or keep from spewing ice cream.
I chuckle, and once I do I can’t seem to stop. We sit there like two stupid kids, laughing over my faux pas and it’s the best I’ve felt all damn day. I’m surprised we don’t wake Trent or Sean.
“I’m sorry,” I say when I finally catch my breath.
“Don’t be. I’m glad you like my baking.”
I love everything about you.The thought comes into my mind so quickly I almost speak it aloud. Thank God I don’t. Instead I reach across her body and shove my spoon into what’s left of her cookie dough. I ignore the impulse to throw the dessert to the side and claim her lips with my own. They probably taste like the ice cream I shove into my mouth. No, I’m certain she tastes even better.
Fuck me.
Not because she’s perfect, or that it’s taking all of my self-control to keep my hands to myself right now. No, that’s bad enough. Fuck me, because I’m running out of excuses why this is a bad idea. I don’t deserve a woman like Opal. I really don’t. But since I’m reinventing myself anyway, maybe there’s a possibility I could.
