you feel all what?”
“No.” She shakes her head again, her eyes still closed.
“Please, Lark,” I beg. “If you don’t tell me what you’re feeling, how can I help you feel better?”
“I don’t need you to help me,” she says. “I just need you to go.”
My throat tightens. “But I thought we had a good time last night.”
“We did have a good time.” She rakes a clawed hand through her hair. “Too good a time, and I went to bed feeling sad and alone for the first time since I finally accepted you weren’t ever coming back.” She lifts her eyes, her gaze filled with pain I put there. “It took over a year to stop hurting all the time, Mason, and I can’t… I can’t forget that, even if I wanted to, and I’m not sure I do.”
I nod, though I secretly wish I could make us both forget.
“I’m stronger and smarter than I used to be,” she continues. “I can take care of myself and other people and I don’t have to call my boyfriend to see what he thinks every time I need to make a decision.”
I frown. “You never—”
“Yes, I did, and we both know it,” she says, her tone gentler than it was before. “And that’s okay. I was just a kid when we started dating. I needed someone to lean on. But I don’t need that anymore. Now, people lean on me, and I don’t want to give that up to become some starry eyed kid in love all over again.”
I stare hard at her, into her, but she doesn’t blink or look away. She’s telling the truth. She honestly believes this isn’t going to work, no matter what I do to try to convince her otherwise.
I suppose most men would take that at face value, count their losses, and slink off somewhere to lick their wounds in private, but I’m not most men.
Uncle Parker was certain I’d never make it through medical school. In his eyes, my failure was confirmed before classes even started. But I refused to accept my uncle’s bleak vision of my future, and I refuse to accept Lark’s, either.
Not until I’ve given this everything I’ve got.
I can make her happy, I know I can, if she’ll just give me the chance.
“Six more dates,” I say after a beat. “And then I’m gone.”
She growls beneath her breath. “Are you listening? I don’t—”
“I am listening,” I cut in evenly. “I don’t want you to lose anything you’ve gained. I want you to be strong and independent, but I also want you. In my life. However that shakes out. We were good friends once, and I know we can be again.”
“We were more than friends,” she grumbles. “And I think you still want to be more than friends.”
“Would that be so terrible?”
She sighs. “Yes? No? I don’t know because I’m scared and confused and having a hard time thinking clearly?”
“Then don’t think.” I slip an arm around her waist, heart lifting when she doesn’t push me away. “Feel. What feels right? Right now?”
“I don’t know,” she says, but a moment later she softens against me. Her palms flatten on my chest, but she doesn’t push me away. Instead, her fingers curl into my shirt, making my pulse beat faster.
I lean in, breath held as I tilt my mouth closer to hers.
I’m lost in her, heart hammering as I realize my first Lark kiss in four years is mere seconds away, when suddenly the door swings open behind her and something flies through it.
I see the projectile coming in my peripheral vision, but there’s no time to move out of the way. The object hits my nose with an offended squeak and I flinch and curse, summoning a high-pitched squeal of delight from inside the house.
Chapter 8
Mason
I look up.
Into the eyes of a vengeful Viking warrior princess thirsty for my blood.
Lark’s big sister is known for shooting looks that kill, but this is the first time I’ve ever been a target. Mentally, I vow to do whatever it takes to get back in her good graces.
Or invest in glare-blocking body armor. One or the other.
“She’s sick.” Aria hitches the adorable redheaded baby in her arms higher on her hip, as Lark pulls away with a nervous cough. “She shouldn’t be getting that close to anyone.”
“So you threw a…” I glance down to see a bright red plastic hammer with a yellow squeaker at one end lying on the stoop by my feet. “A baby