Restraint - Adriana Locke Page 0,74
should just forget this.”
“You absolutely should not forget this.” A chair squeaks in the background. “So, what changed? What made you know that you want to try something with Holt?”
I consider her question. How do I know?
How do I put how I feel into words?
Maybe that’s the point. Maybe it’s the fact that I have feelings for Holt that’s the answer to her question.
A part of me has opened up since I got to Savannah. There’s a layer to me that I never explored. Maybe I was too scared to open up to someone after Jack. It could be that I didn’t want to access the vulnerability it takes to connect with another human while eating pizza at two in the morning. And I’ve gotten away with it.
Until now.
Holt challenges me. He makes me think about who I am and how I want to be. He pushes me and asks questions, and I like this version of myself better than the Blaire I was when I ran into him at the airport.
Being with him doesn’t feel weak. Or dangerous. I don’t feel like I’m carrying a shield around all day to fend off the enemy.
I can breathe. But how do I say that to Sienna?
I don’t know.
I don’t even know what all of this means. I’m just not ready to go back to Chicago and think of this whole thing in the past tense.
“We talk like friends and kiss like lovers,” I say wistfully. “It’s usually one or the other.”
“I understand.”
“I can see myself differently around him. I see my strengths but also my weaknesses without feeling judged. I’m a better version of me.” I smile to myself. “He walked into my life as if he belonged here. Imagining him not being here hurts.”
Sienna sucks in a breath. “Blaire …”
“Does that sound ridiculous?”
“No, friend. It doesn’t. Not at all.”
I tug the blankets back over me and nestle down in them. If I lay in Holt’s bed and imagine him coming home, to me, everything feels right.
But it’s trickery. And I know it.
“You need to tell him,” Sienna coaxes.
It sounds so easy.
My heart constricts as I think about doing that—telling Holt that I want to explore something more with him.
“My life is in Chicago,” I remind her. “I have a career there. His world is here.”
“So?”
“So, isn’t it practically impossible even if he agrees?”
“Nothing is impossible when it comes to lov—things like this.”
I grin at her slip-up. “I love your romanticism, but I’m still pragmatic. It’s not that easy.”
“Maybe not, but you’ll never know if you don’t try.”
What if I try …
He could say he’s thinking the same thing and we could attempt to make a long-distance relationship work.
Or he could say it’s not in the cards for him, and he thinks it’s a disaster in the making.
The second option sends a chill ripping down my spine.
“What are you thinking?” Sienna asks.
“Just that I’m not sure what he’ll say. You know, he could say he’s not interested in trying something like this with me, and then what happens?”
“I don’t know. What do you think happens?”
I mull it over.
We’re still operating on an extended one-night stand. But it doesn’t feel like that anymore.
Not with us holding hands. And kisses to the top of my head. With me sleeping in his bed and accompanying him to family events. That’s especially true when I know he doesn’t bring random women to things like that—both his bed and events.
Surely, that means something.
I chew on my bottom lip.
“What’s the worst that could happen?” Sienna asks.
“That he laughs in my face.”
“Do you really think he’d do that?”
“I hope not.”
She sighs. “You know that’s not going to happen. Take that option off the table.”
I shrug. “I guess he could just tell me I’ve seen something between us that he didn’t, and I should just go home.”
“Do you think that’s true?”
I don’t. I really don’t.
Even with my overthinking brain and paranoia, I don’t think I’m seeing something that’s not there.
His touch is too tender. His actions too considerate. His kisses too sweet.
“I’m confident that he feels the same way that I do,” I say. “There’s just too much evidence to support it.”
“We aren’t in a courtroom.” She laughs. “But go on.”
I twist my lips into a thin line as I think this through.
“He asked me to brunch this morning with his family at his parents' house,” I say. “And I got to know his family last night at the concert.”
“Oh, my gosh! You went to Kelvin McCoy, didn’t you?