Page 145 of Dear Future Husband

I couldn’t keep up with the molding of my life before the memory loss and after. It was all a lot.

He took another couple of steps forward and was now very close.

Kissing distance close.

“Maybelle.”

My eyes snapped up from his lips back to his eyes and a half smile pulled at his features. Being this close, I finally noticed the bruising of exhaustion under his eyes. The weariness of his smile. This poor boy had gone through hell and back in the last couple of days. I could see every bit of the pain and trepidation in hismovements as he spoke.

“I’m okay,” I whispered.

It was dark now that the sun had vanished behind the night sky. We hadn’t turned on the house lights. The only source of illumination was the candle he lit and the feeble glow of the full moon glancing through the windows.

He didn’t move as he watched me, only nodded. “Do you want to talk about it?”

I did, and I didn’t. I wanted to tell Trey everything. One day, soon, I would tell him about it. Tell him about how I ran, tell him about how I fought, and about Liam, but not tonight.

Tonight, I just wanted to be with him.

“I do,” I answered lowly, meeting his steps with my own. Our bodies were so close they nearly touched with each deep breath. “But not tonight.”

He nodded, his eyes searching mine.

“Can—can I hold you?”

His question was so soft, a breath that almost blew me away into oblivion. I couldn’t speak, I couldn’t function normally, but I managed to bob my head once.

He didn’t hesitate. He closed the remaining distance and grappled me against him. His hand cradled the back of my head while his other arm encircled my waist.

“God, you scared me,” he said. His breath warm against my ear.

“I’m sorry,” I tried but squeaked. Trey held me tighter.

“May.” The timbre of his voice shook with his rising emotions, and I gripped the collar of his shirt in my hands. “You have nothing to be sorry for. Nothing. I’m just happy you’re okay. I don’t know what I would’ve done with myself if—” he trailed off, pressing his words into my hair. Then he cupped my face with both of his hands. “I’m afraid my heart is just too vulnerable when it comes to you, Maybelle Mason.”

I smiled at the use of my words on that beach all thoselong months ago. When we’d both been so young, so scared, and so naïve to what our future offered us.

I needed to speak, but words evaded me. So, I responded the way Trey would’ve on the beach that night before we were interrupted.

I kissed him.

The kiss was gentle, but it was deep and so full of feeling. It wasn’t a fleeting, subconscious show of affection. It was a finally. A coming home. A deep breath and a morning in bed after the longest sleep.

His thumbs stroked my jaw. Then cautiously they moved down, skimming over my neck. His body was magnetic and a force I had no other choice but to hold with all my strength to.

I tilted my head back, pleading for more.

I missed him.

I missed his hands, his heat, his gentle touch. And the desperation in which he held to me like I was the only way to breathe. Trey’s hand laced around the back of my neck, tangling with the curls at the nape. He parted from me then, watching and waiting.

“Talk to me, May. Tell me what you want.” His voice was strained. Like it was painful for him to stop, but he did.

I licked my lips, tasting the slightly swollen feel of them. My grip on his shirt flexed, then my hands flattened on his chest as I realized this pause pained me as well.

“Trey,” I breathed, testing my voice.

It was as unsteady as I anticipated, but his eyes only softened as he continued with patience. I lifted my hand to his cheek, swiping my thumb near the corner of his mouth. Like I could coax that heartbreaking smile from him. The hand at my waist palmed my hip and I could feel the rapid beating of his heart under my fingers.