Hold Me Close - Talia Hibbert Page 0,221

have to masturbate a hell of a lot more…” She huffed out a laugh, bringing a smile to his lips. “But I can handle that. Sex isn’t as important as being close to you. I just want to make you happy.” He tilted her chin up with one finger, making sure she met his eyes. “If that means I never fuck anything but my hand, I’ll deal.”

She held his gaze for a moment before looking away. “Okay.”

Did she believe him? For once, he had no idea. But if she didn’t yet, she would. Eventually.

“Are you alright?” he asked. “Are you having a hard time?” He’d been through difficult patches himself; times when he felt disconnected from his body. When the idea of anyone touching him like that made him nauseous. It wasn’t a bad sign for everyone, but it usually was for him. It might be for her, too.

But she shook her head. “No. I’m fine. Really.”

“You sure?”

“It was just theoretical. I remembered that sometimes I have phases where I don’t want to, and I wondered…” She trailed off, giving him an odd, tight smile that slowly softened into something real. After a beat, he felt her whole body relax. She ran a hand through his hair and said lightly, “You need another trim.”

The casual touch felt like a blessing. “Whatever you say. You’re in charge of my hair, after all.”

“Oh, I’m in charge?”

“You didn’t know?” He kissed her cheek. “It’s your call.”

Everything is your call. Trust me. I love you.

She studied him for a moment, her dark eyes fathomless. “Are you sure about that?”

“Well,” he teased, “I don’t like any of the barbers around here, so…”

There was only the slightest pause, a fraction of a breath, before she laughed. And then she changed the subject. She asked him about his day, and the kids, and the party plans, and she seemed fine. Perfectly fine.

But he couldn’t shake the feeling that he’d said the wrong thing.

21

Rae: I think I saw the kids with their dad on Sunday. Is he tall, kinda pale, heavily tattooed, extremely hot?

Hannah: I don’t know about that last part.

Rae: ??? Is your vision okay?

Hannah: He has really bad breath.

Rae: Huh. That’s a shame.

“Where’s Zach?”

“Late,” Hannah said, her voice rising over the chatter of guests. “He texted me. Work stuff.”

Nate scowled. His little brother was a blacksmith. Blacksmiths shouldn’t have regular nine-to-fives, never mind all this overtime. Blacksmiths should take time off whenever they wanted and pound iron in ye olde forge by the dark of night, or whatever. Right? But Zach seemed to work for some kind of tyrant, so here he was, late for his own surprise party.

About thirty people milled around the house and a soft rock playlist hummed along in the background. The patio doors were open to let in the summer night air, and Hannah had made a shit ton of food, and most people seemed to be having a good time. Ma had already fallen asleep, so he’d put her upstairs with the kids—but he was trying not to worry too much about that. Hannah kept telling him, “Worry doesn’t pay bills or raise children, and it certainly never healed anyone.”

He wasn’t sure if the words themselves were helping, or if it was just the source. In the end, it didn’t really matter. Last week he’d managed to sleep for five hours at a time, so he wouldn’t question his newfound relaxation too closely.

Once Hannah answered his question, she floated casually away from him without another word. She’d been doing that ever since the party started. Maybe she was nervous around all these people, or maybe it had something to do with her little sister glowering at everyone from the corner of the room, but Hannah seemed… jumpy. Eager to jump away from him, at least.

She’d been acting weird for a few days, in fact, but he told himself not to overthink it. It was probably stress—plus paranoia about hiding their relationship tonight, since they’d never had to pretend in front of so many people. It definitely couldn’t be a problem between the two of them, could it? No. No.

Recently she’d been trusting him more than ever, sharing her emotions and everything. Like last week, when she’d looked across the kitchen with narrowed eyes and said thoughtfully, “Kind of weird how you never get on my nerves.”

Nate was choosing to take that, rightly or wrongly, as an admission of eternal devotion.

Of course, she had no idea that certain plans of his