Page 96 of Piece Us Together
Then he does.
His smile is unbelievably sad, his voice soft, low, hurt. “Would it be so terrible? To love me?”
I can feel a sob in my chest. If I open my mouth, it’ll spill out. It’ll give me away. It’ll ruin everything.
I step back instead. Retreat. He tracks my movements without following, my whiskey bottle still clutched in his hand.
When I’m close enough to the door to grab the handle, he stops me with a sharp, “Maison.”
I take a breath before turning back to him. He hesitates before slowly approaching me. His eyes are back to searching. I don’t try to hide. I’m so tired of hiding. He sees me anyway. I think he always has.
He lifts a hand. I watch it, my pulse a frantic thing inside me. I don’t stop him. His fingers are freezing, but gentle against my eyebrow. I have a scar there. He touches it, but he’s looking into my eyes as he does.
“For what it’s worth,” he says so softly even the cold air doesn’t pick up on it, no cloud forming between us. “You’re making me, too. The both of you.”
“Is it scary?” I ask, because I have to know.
“Yes.”
My heart sinks. “Because I’m bad?”
His brow furrows as he steps closer. His fingers move from my eyebrow to my cheek. His thumb rubs a circle of warmth on my cold skin. “You’re not bad, Maison. Not even a little.”
“You don’t know anything about me,” I whisper, returning to my previous argument.
He gives me the same response as before, even tilting his head again. “Don’t I?”
I close my eyes. I can’t look at him. I’m breaking apart and he’s going to see and I can’t fuckinglookat him. “Hunter.”
“I know you, Maison. Details don’t matter.” I feel his hand settle against my chest, over my panicking heart. “Iknowyou.”
If you really knew me, you’d never touch me again.
“Come over tonight.”
The surprise has me opening my eyes. He’s so close now. The curves of his cheeks and the tip of his nose are pink. I’m pissed I didn’t grab a jacket for myself. I want to be able to give him something. “I’m drunk. It’s against the rules.”
“You think I only want you two if I get to play with you?” He steps into me, his stomach against mine. His hand is trapped between our chests.
Someone could see.
I don’t move away. I try, I fucking try, but I can’t.
Instead, I find my hands on his waist, the fabric of his shirt clenched in my fists.
“Come over, when this party comes to an end. Nolan has only had one drink with dinner. He’ll drive.” The tone he uses makes it clear that the only reason this isn’t an order is because of the limits I’ve set for us. It makes it clear that he very much wants me to choose to obey. “Spend the weekend.”
“Hunter—”
“No love talk. Just the three of us being together. We can watch more superhero movies and eat Nolan’s food and spoil him rotten.”
Iwantthat.
Can I really have that? No worrying? No deeper feelings? Just the three of us together, happy, calm, safe?
“Bucky Barnes is alive,” I tell him.
He blinks at me. “Oh?”