way to the front porch. Even though I have a key, I still knock on the door. I don’t live here and Evan’s not my boyfriend. I feel like I would be abusing the privilege if I just barge on in.
I raise my hand to knock and the door flies open. Evan stands still, just watching me. I don’t know what to say. I can see the worry written all over his face. I wish I could throat punch Misty for the shit she’s putting him through. Evan holds out his hand and without hesitation, I accept it, allowing him to pull me into the house.
As soon as the door closes, he pulls me into a tight hug. I can feel the tension in his stance. Today’s visit worries him---as it should. This is his little girl we’re talking about.
I wish I could make it better, take this worry off his shoulders. He’s doing this alone. I hold him tight, trying to show him I’m here for him. If I had my way, I would never let go.
Evan finally pulls away from the hug, laces his fingers through mine, and leads me to the living room. He lays down on the couch and gives my hand a gentle tug, letting me know he wants me to lie down with him. No words are said as I silently nod and settle in front of him, my back to his front. He wraps his arms around me and holds tight. I cover his hands with mine, wanting that connection, to let him know I’m here, to offer him some type of comfort.
We lie there together in the silence of the room. My fingers trace the corded muscles of his arms, which are wrapped securely around me. I’m aware of every breath he takes. At first, they are quick, but fade into long even breaths. This is when I let myself relax, knowing he has.
“I’m worried about my little girl,” he says softly. “She’s not taking care of herself, Kinley. I don’t know what to do. The baby is measuring small and the doctor keeps warning her she needs to eat more. She gives him a blank stare and I just want to shake her,” he says in a rush.
I don’t know what to say, so I don’t say anything. I don’t think I’ve ever said I hate someone, but in this moment, I hate Misty. I hate how she wants nothing to do with Evan and this baby girl she’s carrying. I hate her because she’s not taking care of herself and she’s putting Evan’s daughter in danger. I hate her because she’s the one carrying his baby.
I’m in deep.
Rolling over so we’re face to face, I study him—the strong angle of his jaw and his shaggy brown hair that hangs down into his brown eyes. Unable to stop myself, I reach up and run my fingers through his hair. His eyes bore into mine, both of us refusing to look away.
Evan pulls me closer, our faces now mere inches apart. Our eyes never wander, his chocolate irises so full of despair. I want to take it away. I want to help him forget about the worry, just help him relax. Without further thought, I lean forward and press my lips to his. He doesn’t respond at first, but I don’t let that stop me. I softly kiss him again, running my tongue across his lips.
“McKinley.” My name is a feather-soft caress falling from his lips as he presses them hard against mine.
I suddenly have no control over the situation. Evan’s hand, which was resting on my back, slides up the back of my neck, holding me in place. His lips, soft yet firm, devour mine. I hear a low moan and realize it was me. I want more of him---all of him.
I allow myself to get lost in his kiss, the taste of him and the feel of him pulling me closer. I have no idea how much time passes and I don’t care. I want this moment with him.
The ringing of a cell phone causes Evan to pull away. He rests his forehead against mine. My eyes are closed, but I can feel the rapid rise and fall of his chest with each breath.
A loud beep causes him to pull away. “Kinley.” His voice is pained.
Looking into his eyes, filled with so many emotions—pain, desire, and maybe even regret—I place my index finger over his lips to stop him. “I’m