“Oh yeah?”
“Mm-hmm.”
I brushed my hair out of my face again, barely holding back a grimace. I was pretty sure I stank. The T-shirt I was wearing was my dad’s, the basketball shorts were from God knew where, and my toenail polish was so chipped it looked hideous. He’d shown up at the worst possible moment.
“Morgan,” Trevor said, moving my hand away from my hair. “It’s fine.”
“I need a shower,” I replied ruefully. “I wasn’t exactly expecting company.”
“You look beautiful.”
“No, I’m disgusting.”
“Stop,” he muttered, the tone one I’d never heard from him before. “Stop fidgeting.”
He took a deep breath and ran a hand over his beard.
“Put Etta in her crib,” he ordered, startling me a little.
I turned to look at her as I began to argue, but my mouth snapped shut when I realized that she’d fallen asleep on the floor. It was the first time in a week I hadn’t had to listen to her whine about her nap for a half hour before she fell asleep. Without a word, I moved around him and scooped her up. It took only a few minutes to get her settled in our room, and when I came out and closed the door behind me, Trevor was waiting in the hall.
“I thought it was probably a mistake, coming down here,” he said quietly, stepping into my space. “Hadn’t heard from you in a while and I wasn’t sure what kind of reception I’d get.”
My eyes widened as he backed me up against the wall. I didn’t protest, even though I was gross and pretty sure he was going to notice it soon. If anything, my body softened at his advance, the tension in my shoulders and neck dissipating.
“Went back and forth, the whole drive down,” he said, his hand coming up to rest at the side of my neck. “Is she going to tell me to leave her the fuck alone? Not answer the door? Try and let me down easy? Does she miss me?”
He grinned and my heart started to race. I wasn’t sure if it was panic or euphoria.
“I should have trusted my instincts from the beginning,” he said conversationally. “I was so worried about stepping on your toes, though.”
His fingers began to play with the hair at the nape of my neck, and I shivered.
“Your instincts?” I croaked, frozen as his fingers drifted back and forth against my neck.
“You want me,” he said easily, his hand tightening fractionally. “You’ve wanted me from the start.”
I started to argue that it wasn’t so simple as that, but he cut off my words with a few of his own.
“You wanted me when you were staring at my chest in the pool,” he said softly. “You wanted me when you invited me in here.” He tipped his head to the side as his knee notched between my thighs, letting me know that the here he described wasn’t the house. “You wanted me when you kicked my ass out. You still wanted me when you called from your sister’s dorm.”
“What made you come to that conclusion?” I rasped, tipping my chin up a little in defiance. The words he said were true, but the delivery was given in a way that was totally foreign from the Trevor I’d come to know.
“The way you look at me,” he replied.
It was the simplicity in his answer that stopped any argument I could have made.
“I look at you the same way,” he said sweetly, his head dropping down so that his mouth was just millimeters from my ear. “Like I’ve been swimming under water and I’ve finally come up for air.”
My head fell back against the wall with a thump as his lips met the skin just below my ear. “Like I’m looking at the present I’ve been asking for all year under the Christmas tree.”
His lips drifted across the front of my throat and dipped into the notch of my collarbone. “Like I can’t believe how lucky I am that I finally found you.”
“Were you looking for me?” I asked dumbly, the words tumbling from my lips before I could hold them back. I froze as soon as I’d realized what I’d said.
“Baby, I’ve been looking for you my entire life,” he replied, raising his head until our foreheads were pressed together. “You might not be there yet,” he breathed. “But I’ve never been more sure.”
My eyes watered, but I held tears back by sheer force of will.
“I need to shower,” I replied. It was quite possibly the worst and most truthful thing I could have said.
Trevor stiffened for a moment, his eyes hard on mine, but before I could apologize, or do anything, really, his whole body began to shake with laughter. With one hand braced against the wall and the other still wrapped around the side of my neck, Trevor leaned against me, his face in my throat as he laughed like a lunatic.
When he was done, he lifted his face and kissed me so quickly I didn’t even have a chance to pucker up.
“I got into it with my mom,” he said, his smile gone.
“Oh, no,” I murmured. Maybe that was why he’d come to see me. I knew how close he and his mom were. He must have been pretty upset if he’d driven all the way to Sacramento. “Do you want to talk about it?”
Trevor huffed in amusement and barely shook his head from side to side.
“I told her I’m going to put a ring on your finger,” he said bluntly.
Intellectually, I understood the words he was saying. However, logically, I couldn’t wrap my mind around the meaning.
“You what?” I blurted, trying to figure out if he was joking.
“I made it clear that you and I were something they’d have to get used to.”
“Jesus,” I mumbled, pushing distractedly at his chest. I completely ignored what he’d just said as I moved out of his arms. “I’m sweaty and I need a shower like you would not believe.”
I left him standing in the hallway as I stepped into the bathroom. He could handle himself while I cleaned up really quick. It wasn’t like it was his first time at our house.
I was in the shower for less than five minutes when his voice on the other side of the shower scared the crap out of me.
“I can’t figure out if you do it on purpose,” he said, “or if you just have no idea.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I snapped, my heart still beating like it was going to jump out of my chest. “Can I take a shower in peace?”
“Probably not,” he replied, stepping in next to me.
I wanted to be pissed. I really did. But oh, my God, all that dark skin was on full display and he showed absolutely no sign of self-consciousness.
“I’m in the shower,” I muttered.
“Me too,” he replied in amusement.
“I know.” I continued to stare until he began to chuckle. “Why?”
“Because I knew you weren’t going to be able to focus until you took a shower,” he replied, reaching for my shampoo. “But I didn’t want to wait that long.”
I let him lather my hair without a peep. Half of me was relishing what we were doing, but the other half was completely freaking out. Why was he here? Why was he making a move now, when he’d backed off before? What was his endgame? And why in God’s name had he told his mom he wanted to marry me? Had he been joking about that? She must have freaked out.
“I can see the wheels turning,” he said as he tilted my head back to rinse the shampoo out. “You want to share your thoughts with the class?”
“No,” I replied, sputtering when soap ran down my face.
“Whoops,” he said easily, wiping the residue away. “Why don’t you feel like sharing?”
“Maybe I’m not the sharing type,” I replied.
“Sure you are,” he argued, gently moving my hands back to my sides before reaching for my body wash. “You just don’t want to share anything about yourself.”
“What are you doing?” I asked as he knelt in the shower.
“Washing you.”
“I can wash myself,” I replied, taking a tiny step backward.
“I know,” he said, tilting his head to look at me, even though it made water splash into his
face. “But I’d like to do it.”
I cocked my head to the side, wondering what I was missing in his enigmatic answers, but stepped forward again, giving him permission.
He started with my feet and moved upward, not exactly rushing, but not taking his time, either. He didn’t miss a single spot, but he didn’t linger. By the time he reached my hips, I was almost vibrating with need, but he moved past any erogenous zones as he made his way over my back and torso.
“You don’t like asking for help,” Trevor said as he massaged soap onto my hand. “You don’t like talking about your feelings or getting in too deep.”
I opened my mouth to reply, but shut it again when he shook his head in warning.
“I’m talking now, you’ll get your chance,” he said, moving farther up my arm. “At first, it threw me for a loop. You were so welcoming when I showed up that first time. So easy. I took that for granted.”
“Easy?” I asked, ignoring his glare.
“You know what I mean,” he replied. “Stop interrupting.”
I closed my mouth and raised one eyebrow. I couldn’t wait until it was my turn to speak. Why the hell was I letting him boss me around, anyway? He was in my house and he’d interrupted my damn shower.
“So when you went all cold on me, I had no idea how to respond.” He shrugged his shoulders and smiled ruefully. “It was such a change from how you’d been in the beginning that I instantly backed off.”
I wanted so badly to speak, but I didn’t. His hands moved to my shoulder and armpit, and he didn’t hesitate for a second even though I hadn’t shaved in days. I willed myself not to blush.
“I hadn’t realized yet, that’s what you do.” He paused on my collarbone, then kept moving. “You shy away from anything personal, even the aftermath of sex.”
“That’s not true,” I argued, unable to keep silent any longer. “I’ve talked to you about a ton of personal shit.”
“You’ve texted sometimes,” he conceded, nodding. “But in person? No way.”
“Wrong,” I replied.
“Name once.” His hands never stopped moving as he cleaned my other arm, this time starting at my shoulder.
“We talked about personal things the first time you showed up!”
“We talked about Henry,” he corrected. “We didn’t talk about you.”
“Yes we did.”
“No,” he said seriously. “We didn’t. You brushed off how Henry had hurt you, and that was that.”
“He didn’t hurt me.”
“Didn’t he?”
“No.”
“It didn’t bother you at all that he walked away from you?”
“No,” I said emphatically.
“It didn’t hurt you that he walked away from Etta?”
“I think I’m clean,” I said bluntly, pulling my hand from his. I turned and flipped the shower knob off. “I’ll get you a towel.”
I stepped out of the shower but didn’t even get to the towels under the sink before he was spinning me around to look at him.
“This is what I’m talking about,” he said. “You refuse to talk about anything personal.”
“Sure,” I replied, refusing to back down even though we were both dripping all over the floor. “It bugs me that he didn’t care about Etta. Of course it did.”
“Then why pretend it doesn’t?”
“Because it doesn’t change anything,” I shot back. “Me whining about it doesn’t change a goddamn thing!”
“It’s okay to be mad.”
“I’m not mad!”
“Then what are you?” he asked softly.
“I’m sad,” I gritted through my teeth. “Okay? It makes me so goddamn sad for her.”
“It’s okay to be sad about it.”
“I know that,” I shot back.
“It’s okay to talk about.”
“Why in the hell would I want to do that?”
“Because I need you to,” he replied, his eyes steady on mine.
“Why?”
“Because I want to take care of you.”
I scoffed. I couldn’t help it. I’d been taking care of myself for as long as I could remember. Did my dad and sister have my back? Without question. Did I ask them for anything? Never.
“I take care of myself.”
“Letting me in doesn’t make you weak,” Trevor continued.
“I never said it did.”
I twisted to grab us some towels, then brought mine to my face, blocking him out. This whole conversation was making my stomach twist with anxiety.
“Look at me,” he ordered. “Now, Morgan.”
I dropped the towel so I could meet his eyes. What I saw there wasn’t what I’d expected.
“I’m in love with you.”
“No, you’re not.”
“You’re so damn willing to help everybody. I tell you I got into an argument with my mom, and you instantly go soft and ask if I want to talk about it, but the minute I tell you how I feel about you, you stiffen and change the subject.”
“Those are two completely different situations.”
“I realize that,” he said easily, drying himself off. “Your reactions are constant, though.”
“Why are we even talking about this?” I asked in annoyance, reaching for the door handle.
“Because,” he hissed, his hand flying out to grip my wrist, “you won’t let me help you. You deflect the minute I get too close.”
“I don’t need your help.”
“Jesus Christ, Morgan,” he spat, his other hand slapping loudly on the countertop. “Maybe I fucking need to help you.”
“What?” I said, surprise making my voice higher than normal.
“I’m in love with you,” he said again, his voice loud in the small bathroom. “All right?”
“Okay,” I replied almost inaudibly.
“Finally,” he told the ceiling. “I’m getting through.”
“That’s not funny,” I retorted.
“No,” he said, shaking his head. “It’s not.”
He let me leave the bathroom, and I walked without a word to my bedroom and closed the door behind me. Etta was still sleeping as I got dressed, but I checked on her anyway, just to stall for time. I wasn’t quite sure how I was supposed to respond to anything Trevor had said.
Did I love him? I wasn’t sure. I could picture myself with him. I missed him like crazy when he wasn’t with me, and I wondered constantly what he was doing. I hated the thought of him with someone else, and imagining him hurt or upset made my chest ache with sadness. I would put his happiness before my own. Was that love? I’d never been in love, so I couldn’t be sure. It didn’t feel like the way I loved my family.
I cared about him, though. I knew that much.
“I don’t want to fight with you,” I said meekly when I found him in the kitchen a few minutes later.
“Baby,” he sighed, turning to look at me. “We weren’t fighting.”
“It felt like fighting.”
“It wasn’t.” He walked toward me and slid his hand down the back of my hair, kissing my forehead. He took my hand and led me to the couch, pulling me down beside him when we got there. “I don’t understand why you do it,” he began, tucking me in against his side. “But for some reason, you have a very easy time helping others but deflect anytime someone wants to know how you’re doing.”
“It just rubs me the wrong way,” I replied. It was easier to talk with him when we weren’t making eye contact. It felt safer somehow. More impersonal.
“Okay,” he said, pausing for a moment. “But I need you to let me in.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“I’m beginning to understand that,” he said with a sigh.
“Honestly,” I said, staring at the picture of me and Miranda across the room. “I have no idea what you want from me.”
“A few answers?” he asked.
I swallowed as I stared at that photo of me and my sister
, then finally nodded.
“Are you glad I’m here?” he asked.
I nodded again. That question was easy. No matter the circumstances or where we were, I was always glad when he was near.
“Did you miss me?”
I nodded again. Even when I’d deliberately thought of something else in order to function, I’d always missed him. I didn’t have to be thinking about him to miss him; it was just a constant, like breathing.
“Do you love me?”
That question was harder. In fact, in that moment, it may have been the hardest question anyone had ever asked me. I wasn’t even sure in a practical sense what romantic love was.
“I don’t know,” I said softly.
Trevor stiffened beside me.
“I care about you,” I continued. “I hate the thought of either of us being with anyone else and I think about you constantly—but that just seems like jealousy and lust to me.”
Trevor huffed in relief, and his body lost a little of the tension. “Seems like a pretty good start,” he said finally.
He leaned down and just like the first time he’d kissed me, the entire world fell away as his lips met mine. His mouth was wider than mine, and he usually controlled the kiss, but I couldn’t stop from pulling his full bottom lip between my teeth so that I could run my tongue along the soft inner edge. He tasted like mint, and the outer edge of his lips were slightly chapped, so they rasped against mine as he pulled away and then came back for more.
Where we’d been frantic the first time we’d kissed, this time we took our time exploring, slowly and leisurely mapping each other’s dips and hollows. His tongue ran along the roof of my mouth and I shivered. My teeth nipped at his lips again and he groaned.
I was leaning back, relishing the way his weight began to press me into the couch, when we heard the front door open. Both of us sat up quickly as my dad came into the house, and Trevor’s hand on my shoulder was the only thing that kept me from jumping off the couch like a guilty teenager.
“Trevor,” my dad said in surprise, stopping short.
“Hey, Stan,” Trevor replied easily, leaving his arm draped over my shoulder.
“You here for a visit?” my dad asked, closing the front door as he got over his surprise.
“Yeah,” Trevor answered. “Took a few days off and decided to come see everyone.”
Heart of Glass Page 23