Page 38 of Collide

“Why?” he asks, watching me carefully.

“Because…” I drop my gaze. “I’m a disappointment to him.” I shake my head quickly, like I can erase the words. “Sorry, that’s stupid, I shouldn’t have said that. Sorry.”

“Don’t apologize. That’s not stupid.” He shifts closer, so close our knees brush, a spark leaping from the contact straight up my spine.

“He’sstupid for making you feel that way.”

Heat blooms low in my belly from where our bodies touch. My skin prickles with awareness, like every nerve is reaching for him.

“And you grew up in Australia?” he asks.

“Yes. After the divorce, it was ugly,” I say quietly. “My mom ran to the furthest place she could.”

Alex’s voice softens. “Where is she now?”

“She died a few years ago,” I reply, the words catching. “Cancer.”

I try not to let the ache bloom in my chest. I breathe, focusing on the here and now.

His expression softens. “I’m sorry, Elena. You’ve had quite the journey.” He rests his hand on my leg.

The touch is cool, soothing.

“You could say that.”

He leans back, hand still resting on my thigh, his eyes studying me. “Pardon me for being forward…”

I lift an eyebrow. “Alex, you invited yourself over. I think we’re past worrying about being forward.”

He laughs low in his throat. “Fair enough. You must know how beautiful you are, but your eyes. When you were lying in the hospital, I thought they’d be brown. Then you opened them, and damn”—he shakes his head, smiling almost to himself—“you took my breath away. They’re…beguiling.”

My throat tightens. My eyes have always felt like a curse, a mirror of my father’s, a reminder of him even when he wasn’t around. But to Alex, they’re something that enamors him.

For a second, I want to let myself believe him.

“Bet you say that to all the girls,” I murmur, trying to sound flippant.

“Only the ones I knock out.” He smirks. He’s so handsome, it’s disarming.

A laugh bubbles out of me, slipping past the lump in my throat.

“What about you?” I ask, nudging his knee with mine. “What do you do?”

For a split second, something flashes across his face, a flicker of hesitation, before he raises a brow, a private thought passing behind his eyes. I catch the way his mouth tugs into a crooked smile, too quick, too easy.

“Talking about work is boring,” he brushes off lightly, the corners of his mouth curving higher. “Unless, of course, it’s your passion. Like singing is for you.”

“It is.” I nod. “Especially writing songs.”

He’s still such a mystery, giving me just enough to make me want more.

“Okay, tell me about your sister?” I question.

“She’s a writer. Divorced, though who isn’t these days?” He shrugs lightly. “I was actually buying her a book she wanted that day at the vintage store.”

“Oh, I hope she got it,” I tease, nudging him again.

“She did,” he adds, voice softening. “It was for her birthday.”