Page 94 of Fragile Lives

“You don’t, but you can trust me.” His eyes dart between mine. “I know I’ve said shit before, but can you promise that you will try at least?”

I watch him for a minute before nodding. “Yes. But you need to promise me something too.”

“Anything,” he says without hesitation.

I start to worry, not knowing how to form the right sentence. “If you ever feel like you did today, can you promise to talk to me right away? No matter where I am or what I’m doing, you have to find me. Can you?”

His lips thin before he gives me a quick nod. “The deal is active only while you’re alive.”

“I’m younger than you.” I roll my eyes. “I’ll try to make it to my nineties.”

“Works for me,” he says with a smile and pulls me onto his chest.

“I love you, Stephan. You know that, right?”

“Why do I feel like there is a ‘but’ coming?”

“That’s because you’re right.” The muscles under my cheek turn to granite. “But you smell like shit, dude. You need a shower.”

His chuckle is one of relief. “Care to join?”

Chapter Twenty-Six

LEILA

“Your house is insane.” I say as I lie on my back in his extra-super-duper-king bed. The sheets are so soft, and the comforter is extra fluffy. He has so many rooms, I don’t even know how many total, and every single one of them is tastefully put together by a really good designer. It’s still a little cold here. It’s beautiful, and the house has so much potential, but it’s not…home.

“It’s alright, I guess.” I can feel his shrug next to me.

“You guess?” I pop my weight on my elbow and look at him. “The house is a work of art. Why did you buy it if you don’t like it?”

He chews on the inside of his cheek before speaking. “This house belonged to my father’s family. Then they lost it, and I bought it.”

I peer into his eyes. “Don’t you like it, though? It’s gorgeous.”

He lets out a loud sigh and brings his hands under his head. “It’s beautiful, but it’s just…empty, you know. It’s not home.”

Oh, my poor Stephan.I know the feeling all too well.

“I had the same feeling when you left.” I lie back and stare at the ceiling.

“What do you mean?” He sits so he can look at me.

“When you left Little Hope and my home, it stopped being home. It felt like…you took the home with you, you know?”

He watches me for a few meaningful moments before speaking again. “I actually do.”

“Good,” I say with a smile. “I’m hungry.”

“We can order something. Perks of living in the city.” He winks and climbs off his giant bed.

“We’ve ordered every single meal for the time we’ve been here.”

“Yes, because we’ve had a three-day sex marathon and didn’t have time to cook.” His lopsided smile aims to make me forget how to think, and he knows it, because he uses it every time I need some extra convincing.

“Don’t give me that.” I point to his face, barely able to contain my own smile.

“Okay.” He throws his hands in the air defensively. “What is your plan then?”