Page 133 of Resisting Isaac

I fold my arms tight, as if I can keep the truth from leaking out. “You should get some rest. We can talk tomorrow.”

“Come with me? Rowdy and Blue miss you.”

My laugh is shaky. “It’s raining.”

“Yep. And you’re going to send me out in the rain. Home alone. Like Kevin. I love those movies. You ever watch them?”

Before I can tell him I don’t have any particularly strong feelings either way about the Home Alone franchise, his gaze drops to my face, softer now. “You’ve been crying.”

I try to look away. He won’t let me.

“I knew it!”

I startle at his outburst.

“You didn’t mean what you said earlier,” he says quieter, almost a whisper. “You were protecting yourself. Doing that guarded girl thing you’ve got going on. I get it. You’re scared. I’m scared too. One minute it’s one night only and the next we’re married with a baby on the way. This is scary shit.”

I almost want to laugh at the drunken mess. “I don’t want to hurt you,” I admit.And I don’t want you to get hurt because of me.

“Well, you did.” He exhales roughly. “But I’ve been punched in the face a time or two. Stepped on by bulls much bigger than you. I can take it.”

He reaches for me, pulls me into a hug I pretend I don’t want, but my body craves his warmth. I’m always cold. He’s always warm. Like the sun.

“Let me stay,” he whispers. “Even if it’s just for tonight. Just to sleep. I’ll behave. No funny business.”

“Just to sleep,” I repeat. And I can admit to myself, the thought of falling asleep in his arms after wringing myself out crying all night, is pretty damn appealing.

CHAPTER FIFTY-ONE

isaac

My mouth tastes like regret and whiskey.

And yet—somehow—I’m smiling.

Because there’s a weight against my chest. Soft. Warm. Familiar.

Elena.

Her leg is draped over mine, one hand tucked under her cheek, and her face is bare. No makeup, no armor. Just soft skin, dark lashes, and the faintest crease between her brows like she’s dreaming about something complicated.

I shift slightly, trying not to wake her, and that’s when it hits me.

Last night.

The Stillery. The confessions. The light make out session that turned to her riding my hand and my thigh like a horny monkey.

But also . . . the part where I told her I loved her.

And the part where she didn’t kick me out.

Not only that, she kissed me. Came for me.Cuddledme.

She stirs, lashes fluttering. “Morning.”

“Morning,” I say, brushing a strand of hair from her temple.

Her eyes widen. “You’re still here.”