Page 19 of Daring Destiny
She doesn’t press, but I can see the concern in her eyes. “You know you can talk to me? About anything.”
“Yeah, I know,” I say, though I doubt she’d want to know my true inner thoughts right now. “Thanks, A. I appreciate it.”
She slips her hand from my arm and digs out her keys. “Goodnight, B.”
Astrid steps closer until we’re almost chest to chest. Her hand brushes mine and the contact sends jolts of electricity through my entire body. My cock fills and I have to take a tiny step back or she’ll feel it nudge her. Or, I’m gonna lose control and kiss the bejeezus out of her.
“Goodnight,” I choke out.
We stand there for a second, the air between us charged with something unspoken. Like whatever is between us is about to change forever. I’m about to throw caution to the wind when Astrid jams her key into the door and gives me a small, regretful smile before going inside.
The door shuts and I feel the tension in my chest return. Stronger than before. Jesus Christ. I’ve never felt this way about anyone, I’m falling for her and I’m not sure what to do about it.
On the drive home my mind races with thoughts of Astrid. I go straight to bed, but sleep doesn’t come. I lie awake, staring at the ceiling, thinking about the way Astrid’s hand felt in mine. Analyzing the way she looked at me.
Christ, does Astrid feel something for me too? Is it possible?
What do I do about it? How can I find out?
Maybe it’s time to stop holding back. Go after what I want, for a change.
Do I have the courage?
seven
Astrid
Three Months Later
Ihaven’tseenBrennanin person for nearly three months.
I’m surprised at how badly I’ve missed him. We’re getting together after we both have dinner with our families and I can’t wait.
He’s been stuck in Silicon Valley, knee-deep in some new acquisition and his communication with me has waned a bit. Oh, we still text or talk on the phone every day or so—and I get it, he’s too busy for more. One of the reasons he’s so fascinating is his mind is always churning.
It’s weird, though. I’m not gonna lie. Until this particular trip, we’d been practically joined at the textual hip, even when he traveled. This time, when my clever messages go unanswered, it bums me out.
It sucks to feel ignored, but I let it slide. It’s blatantly apparent the man has no concept of time. He doesn’t realize he’s being inconsiderate. As frustrating as he can be, time-blindness is a thing. I’m not going to change him, so why try?
Now, let it be known, if we weredating, there’s no way I’d put up with this shit. My dating life has been filled with disappointment in this regard. Men who prioritize everything over me and I’m sick of it.
But, we’re not dating. In fact, he hasn’t given me signs he’s interested in a romantic relationship, which is for the best. We’re friends and business partners and Brennan has been honest from the beginning about his schedule. It’s the reason he brought me into Reuniverse. He has enough pressure trying to balance his responsibilities without me piling on.
Anyways, we’re meeting at our usual haunt later and I can’t wait to see him, drink cheap beer, brainstorm plans for Reuniverse, and beat him at pool.
For now, I push those thoughts aside and head into my parents’ house with several bags filled with food. The front door creaks and the house smells like it always does—old wood, dust, and something faintly burnt, probably from my mom’s attempt at breakfast.
It’s been a while since I visited. Brennan is so close with his family he’s inspired me to try to reconnect with mine.
My parents have always worked themselves to the bone, scraping by with low-paying jobs. Mom cleans houses and works at a shipping company. Dad also works maintenance. You’d think the house would be utter perfection with their skill sets, but no, it’s the polar opposite.
Most of the walls are yellowed from age and cigarette smoke. The floorboards creak with every step and the furniture is well worn, sagging in places. My mom and dad spend their lives making everyone else’s property sparkle, and spend no energy doing it for themselves.
I’ve tried to buy them new stuff. Offered, even, to buy them a new home—something where the roof doesn’t leak and the plumbing doesn’t groan every time you turn on the sink.
My dad won’t hear of it. He’s proud of this house, even if it’s falling apart. Saving enough money to buy it is his greatest accomplishment. There’s no point in making either of them feel bad for how they choose to live.
Who am I to judge?