Page 82 of With a Cherry On Top

“Because she kept it a secret?”

“Not just from me,” I say with a click of my tongue. “From my stepdad. My brother. She didn’t tell a single person.”

Her fingers sweep over my knuckles. “That’s dangerous.”

“And irresponsible.”

“And . . . understandable, maybe?”

My eyes snap to hers, and the muted green has an immediate calming effect on the raging storm in my mind.

“She probably didn’t want her family to think of her as a sick woman. Needed time to come to terms with it herself before letting the rest of the world in.”

I tip my head back. “That’s exactly what she said.”

“I get it. Don’t you?”

Yeah. Idofucking get it. I just wish I didn’t react the way I did.

“I should have gotten it before I shouted at her while she was lying in a hospital bed.”

“Aaron,” she gently scolds. “You’re the one she called when she needed help. She toldyou. I’m pretty sure a love like that can survive a bad fight.”

The tension in my chest loosens, just enough to let me breathe, as I look up at her. “You’re sensitive.”

She blinks. “Excuse me?”

“You keep surprising me with something new every day. How smart you are, how mature despite your age. How passionate, how impulsive. It’s your sensitivity today. Your emotional intelligence.”

She toys with the robe’s belt. “Yeah? I’m not just a pretty girl?”

“You’re beautiful, not pretty.” My gaze drifts to her lips, and the ache of wanting to taste them nearly stops my heart. “And no, you’re not.”

Her smile grows, as though she’s savoring the moment. Her eyes lock with mine, head tilting just a little. “You’ve got a big ol’ crush on me, Chef.”

“Yeah, no kidding.”

I don’t know how it happened—if I’m just that lonely or that stupid—but Idohave a crush on her. A big, consuming thing that catches in my chest every time she’s near. The kind of crush that could turn into something more, something deeper. If only everything about it—aboutus—was different.

Infusing my voice with a lightness I don’t really feel, I ask, “Are you going to break my heart, Cherry?”

She leans forward with a suggestive expression. “Definitely.”

A grin tugs at my lips, my eyes dropping to her mouth for a beat before I meet her gaze again. “Looking forward to it.”

Her thumb is still tracing the top of my hand, featherlight but devastating, and I swear I can feel it everywhere.

Thisis the moment. This is the second where I either let this slip away, or give in to the fire that’s been burning between us since the beginning.

From my crouch, I lean forward slightly and land on my knees, her legs parting slightly to make space for me. Letting me in. I lift my free hand, brushing my knuckles down the slope of her cheek. She leans into it, just slightly, her lashes lowering. The room feels too small. The air too thick.

Her hand moves from the top of mine, tracing the inside of my wrist, dragging up my forearm as she reaches down, nails just barely scratching. It’s nothing, really. Just the softest touch. But then she shifts closer, sitting on the edge of the couch, knees brushing my chest.

I know what I should do. I should thank her for today, tell her to take my bed while I crash on the couch, make this less than what it is.

But why shouldIbe the one doing the right thing?

I throw a glance at Sadie’s sleeping form. Josie should be here, but she’s not. My mom should be healthy, or at the very least, honest. My brother should talk to me instead of pretending things are fine between us. No one does what they should. No one acts their age. Nothing’s going the way it’s supposed to.