Page 12 of Truly (Peachwood Falls #2)

Luke reaches over the table and takes my hand. His thumb strokes my palm. The simple gesture springs tears in my eyes because I can’t remember the last time someone saw me, saw my pain, and reached out—literally or physically.

“I don’t know anything about being a mother or a parent,” he says softly. “ But I know you .”

I stare into his eyes and hold on to them for dear life.

He whispers a laugh. “You’re so fucking strong.”

“Why is that funny?”

He squeezes my hand before releasing it.

“I had a long conversation with Cotton today,” he says, shifting in his seat. “He just found out he has cancer.”

“I’m sorry, Luke.”

“Yeah. I’m sorry for him. He’s so wily and energetic that it’s hard to believe he’s that sick.” He blows out a breath. “Anyway, he told me about this girl who was supposed to get married in Brickfield and she brought half of California with her.”

My stomach drops.

Luke smiles. “And he told me that he respected the bride.”

What ? “Seriously?”

“He said she knew what she wanted—and didn’t want—and made a hard decision because it was best for her. He was pretty proud of her.”

“Does he know me?” I ask, my cheeks flushing.

“Nope.” He leans forward, resting his elbows on the edge of the table. “You are very impressive, Ms. Kelley. I’m sure you intimidate a lot of people. And that isn’t your problem .”

“It feels like my problem sometimes.”

He grins. “Well, it’s not. And if you ever need a reminder, call me.”

“You mean I can’t just stalk your videos on Social?”

“Would you like me to start making videos talking directly to you?”

I laugh. “ Stephanie would die .”

He sits back and crosses his arms over his chest. His smile is smug.

“What?” I ask, prodding him.

“I’m just imagining the hottest pop star in the world lying in her tour bus at night watching videos of me.”

“Just think. Now you can imagine the hottest pop star in the world cooking you dinner in your kitchen.”

His lips press together. “I’ve already done that.”

“What?” I laugh. “You have?”

“I’ve thought about that woman cooking me dinner and dragging me to watch horrible plays in Indianapolis. And I’ve thought about her trying to get me to adopt a puppy from the fair.”

My heart swells.

“And I’ve thought about teaching that woman to drive a stick shift, painting her fingernails when she broke her arm, and how she screamed at the top of her lungs at every jump-scare in scary movies.”

I hold his gaze. “You have?”

“Of course I have.”

My blood pressure rises as I lift from my seat. I’m not sure where I’m going or what I’m doing, but I know I can’t sit any longer. I’m too fidgety, my skin too riddled with goose bumps to act natural.

“Do you know what else I thought about?” I ask.

“What’s that?”

He watches me lean into the bend of the cabinets, resting my back against the ledge of the countertop. I should stop talking and leave this alone, but as I look into the eyes of the only man I’ve ever really loved, I can’t.

“I thought about what life might’ve been like if I hadn’t moved to Nashville,” I say softly.

“I think about that every damn day.”

He moves slowly but deliberately across the kitchen. A rush of heat cascades over my body, and I hold my breath until he stops inches before me.

Luke licks his lips. “This is why I said it would be a terrible idea for you to stay here.”

“Is this really that awful?”

“It will be when you leave.”

I take a shaky breath. “But I’m not leaving tonight.”

He holds my face in his hands and stands against me. I look up at him with anticipation and expectation, practically begging him to break the barrier between us and kiss the hell out of me.

His thumbs slide along my jaw, and the calluses scrape against my skin. A bolt of energy fires directly to the apex of my thighs, and I stand on my tiptoes, ready and willing.

I want this. I need this. I want and need him .

The only thing that makes sense in my life is Luke Marshall. I don’t understand how it came to this—how we got here—and it boggles my mind that this is even real.

But it’s real. He’s real . I’ve never been more certain about anything in my life.

I don’t care about the complications, although I know there will be some.

I only care about being connected to him in a way I’ve never been connected with anyone else.

I’ve buried so much of my pain, hidden it from the vultures swooping through my life, for many years.

I also hid the sense of feeling complete.

I’ve hidden it all because acknowledging it only brings on the hurt.

“I want nothing more than to carry you upstairs and show you exactly how much I’ve missed you,” he says, searching my eyes.

“Please do.”

His lips twitch. “I don’t want to take advantage of you, Laina.”

“You’re not. I promise.”

He gives me a soft, crooked smile.

“Luke, please ,” I say, my tone thick with desperation. “Give me tonight.”

He pulls me into his chest, pressing his lips to my forehead. His heart pounds against my palms.

“It’s been a long couple of days,” he says, pulling back. “Why don’t we take it easy tonight? Just hang out. And if you’re still into it tomorrow, I’ll assume you won’t regret it. Because I can’t be a regret. I just can’t.”

My core burns, refusing to accept his offer, but my heart is a sap. How can I be mad at the man for wanting to do right by me? It’s sweet— a nnoying and frustrating, but sweet all the same.

“I hate you,” I say, squeezing my thighs together in a futile attempt to quell the ache between my legs.

He laughs. “You’ve said that once to me already today.”

“I feel it coming on a few more times before the day ends.”

“Why don’t you go get a shower and let me clean up dinner? Then we can watch a movie or something.”

I roll my eyes and walk around him. “I might lie in your room and read a book.”

“You get the couch, remember?”

“Absolutely not. You could’ve joined me in bed.” I stop at the doorway and turn to him. “And I would’ve made it worth your while.”

His nostrils flare.

“But you said no.”

I flash him a sweet smile and head up the stairs.

I wonder if he can make it all night …