“Are you gonna answer him?” Ambrose rolls to my side, and I go with him. “It’s buzzed a few times.” Taking a hand to his straining throat, he massages the area.
I shake my head, staring into his eyes.
I touch his shoulders, his cheeks, his hair, brushing sweaty strands from his handsome face.
Stretching over him, I reach for the magic eight ball and ask it a question that I think will lighten the mood and lift any awkwardness before it settles. “Have we ruined the sofa?”
A laugh slips out of me, seeing the wordsmost likelyfloat to the surface. “I guess we should get some rest, seeing as we’ll need to clean it tomorrow.”
Ambrose takes the ball from my hand, his own question ready as he shakes it violently.
A strained voice asks, “Is Dollie gonna stay here with me tonight?”
His eyes narrow a second later, and he sets the ball down. “Damn thing doesn’t know what it’s talking about.”
“Why? What did it say?” I push myself up, fluffing the pillow behind me as I drag it into my desired place.
“That I don’t have a chance.”
Another laugh slips out of me.
Keeping myself facing away from Ambrose, even now as the firelight dims to nothing, I ask another question, “Do you still want me?”
“I need you.” He moves in a little from the edge and the possibility of falling, stealing the pillow I set for us to share. “I’ll always need you. So, get down here.”
A big smile fills my cheeks, and I ignore another buzzing message.
I don’t know what I’ll tell Shane… how I’ll end the relationship, but I know I have to because I can’t even think about being any more than inches away from Ambrose right now.
A new wave of fear washes over me. Shane could get angry, and I could get hurt.
It was worth it, that one moment with the person I truly love.
But Ambrose could get hurt, and nothing in the world is worth that. If they end up in a fight, will he be sent away again?
That’s my biggest worry now.
I attempt to squish myself into the tight gap between Ambrose’s body and the back of the sofa, knowing I’ll feel better so close to him.
Gripping fingers that still smell like me pull me on top of him, and I pray he can’t feel the tremble rattling each limb.
“Won’t this be uncomfortable for you?”
“No, I want you on me.”
His hands keep me in place, smoothing through my hair as a silent tear is pushed from my eye by worry.
Swallowing down all my fear, I make myself comfortable. My ear takes in the sound of his rattling chest, and my favorite sound in the world sings to me beyond that.
The lullaby that’s his heartbeat.
CHAPTER 64
Dollie—age thirteen
Everything is a blur as it moves in front of me. Mine and Ambrose’s arms being pried from each other’s bodies by men in white coats. Ambrose’s body shuddering, and his face scrunching.
They shouldn’t be touching him, but their fingers squeeze his tanned skin, denting his perfection.
