Act Your Age, Eve Brown (The Brown Sisters #3) - Talia Hibbert Page 0,101

You’re just . . . a bit different, that’s all. You’re just sensitive enough for the world to seem too fast and too loud. And you’re—you’re hurt, I think. You’re used to flinching in case you get hurt again. I’m the same, for different reasons, but still. The fact is, you’re smart, you’re creative, you’re dedicated, and you care about people. You’d do anything for anyone, even if you were terrified, as long as it was right. And what matters more than that? Tell me one thing, honestly, that matters more than that.” Expressing this stuff felt a bit like digging for gold; Jacob labored for what felt like hours (but was actually thirty seconds), and in the end he was mildly exhausted and utterly elated because—

There. There was his gold: Eve’s smile.

“You’re very complimentary, this evening,” she murmured. “I wonder why?”

He rolled his eyes.

And she, just like he’d known she would, sobered up after a moment. “Thank you, Jacob,” she said softly. “If you’d said something like that to me last month, I might not have believed you. But I’m starting to see sides of myself I didn’t even know were there. So maybe I’ll believe you after all.” She was teasing, but behind her smile he saw it: a burgeoning trust. Not in him, but in herself. “I . . . I suppose I never really thought of doing nice things for people as a skill. At least, not until I came here, and you offered to pay me for it.”

“Well, I’m glad you’re changing your mind,” he said, “because it absolutely is a skill. I should know. I have to work on it a lot.”

She laughed, and it was like little bubbles of sunlight popping against his skin.

“Your abilities,” he said slowly, “lie in the places people usually overlook. So you’ve been convinced you don’t have any at all. But you’re smart, and you’re capable, and if people struggle to see that, it’s their problem, not yours.” He really hadn’t meant to bring this next topic up, but the words spilled from his mouth without permission. “You know, Eve, you’re—we’re—different. And . . .” He cleared his throat, started again. “Do you feel like things are different when you’re with me? The way we communicate?”

“Well, yes,” she said pertly. “I imagine that’s how we ended up in bed.”

She had him there. “I wasn’t talking about that difference. I meant—you like the fact that I’m straightforward. You say it all the time. Do other people feel . . . less straightforward to you?”

Jacob expected her to reply with confusion, with more questions, with—something ordinary. But she wasn’t ordinary. She was Eve. Which is why she shocked the shit out of him by replying calmly, “Oh, I see. Yes, it feels different—rather like talking to my sisters. Easier and familiar, probably because we’re both on the autistic spectrum.”

His surprise dissolved almost instantly into of-fucking-course laughter. “You already knew.”

“Well, no,” she corrected, “not before I met you. You’ve made me notice my own behavior more. So I did some research and drew the obvious conclusion: it’s likely that I, like you, am autistic. I assume most of my family is, actually, which would explain why almost everyone finds us incredibly strange. It’s an interesting development, but also . . .” She smiled a little, her gaze on the ceiling as she spoke. “I already know who I am and how I am. In fact, I’m learning more about that every day. Having a name for some of those things is satisfying. That’s all.”

Jacob absorbed that for a moment, biting back a smile of his own. “You’re so . . .”

“What?” she asked, rising on one elbow to look at him. The lavender fall of her hair spilled across his chest, and her eyes were like starlit night. “I’m so what?”

“Perfect,” he finished. “Eve Brown, you are absolutely perfect to me.”

She beamed, so obviously happy it made his heart squeeze. Then she kissed him, and that was perfect, too. They were always perfect together, these days, and most of Jacob believed they always would be.

But a tiny little part of him—the young, cold, worthless part—still wasn’t quite convinced. That part had a long memory, and it was filled with loss.

He’d work on that part, Jacob decided. He’d work on it for her.

Chapter Nineteen

Eve was singing.

She’d been singing ever since last night, in fact, and having a jolly good time of it. Today, instead of humming her usual absent-minded refrains, she let