The fierceness faded, and his knees nearly went weak with relief when a flash of amusement danced in the dark brown. “Soup.”
“Yes. It seemed like the thing to do.” And now he was wondering if it was the wrong thing. His family had caused plenty of death, but he’d never really lost anyone close to him, so he wasn’t sure of the protocol. “If you don’t want soup, I’m sure it will freeze fine. Just let me know what you want, and I’ll get it.”
“No.” A smile teased at the corners of her lips as she lifted a hand, resting her palm against his cheek. “Soup is perfect. Thank you.”
“Okay. Well.” Fuck. In his head, this had gone so much smoother. She would come down the stairs, they would snuggle, he would feed her soup, and all would be right within their little world, at least for a while.
But now that she was here, standing in front of him with that sadness lurking behind the playful light in her eyes, he was at a loss for what to do next.
Luckily for him, she apparently knew what she needed, and in her very Mina way, she went for it. Looping her arms around his neck, she dragged his head down, pressing her lips to his.
It wasn’t hungry or demanding. It wasn’t even needy, not in the way he was used to her needing him. It simply…was. Comfort given, and comfort taken.
Everything he felt for her welled up inside of him, demanding to be let loose. His throat ached from the effort of holding back the words as they separated once more, but it wasn’t the right time. Wasn’t anywhere close to being the right time.
When he finally told a woman he loved her for the first time, it needed to be exactly right.
“Hmmm.” With another one of those small, strange smiles, she extricated herself from his arms and headed for the living room, where she curled up on the couch.
That was one of those little things he loved about her, the way she tucked her legs up under her, all curled into herself. It reminded him of a cat, and not for the first time, he wondered what she might look like in a pair of black ears with a big, fluffy tail firmly planted in her bottom.
Shaking off the inappropriate thoughts, he made his way to the kitchen and grabbed them each a large bottle of water from the fridge.
Her nose wrinkled when he held it out for her to take. “I’d rather have a glass of wine, please.”
“You can have wine after you rehydrate, Ace.” When she made no move to take the bottle from his hand, he arched an eyebrow at her. “Or you can refuse to do as you’re told and skip the wine altogether.”
The threat had her bottom lip pushing out in an adorable pout, but she snagged the bottle from his hands and twisted off the cap, her eyes locked with his as she took a deep pull.
“Good girl.” Settling on the couch beside her, he pointedly followed her example and drank from his own bottle. “Do you want to talk?”
He almost wished he hadn’t asked when her shoulders drooped and the fleeting happiness she’d managed to steal disappeared from her expression. “I’m not sure what there is to say.”
“All right. We don’t have to talk if you’re not ready.”
Lowering her gaze to the bottle in her hand, she picked at the corner of the label. “It just seems pointless to talk about it. She’s gone, and I’m sad, and talking about it isn’t going to fix either of those things.”
“I know, baby.” Gods, his arms physically ached with the need to hold her. “Would it help for you to share something about her? Maybe a favorite memory? Something about her you particularly loved?”
“I loved everything about her.” Her voice went thick, telling him more tears were on the horizon. Moving purely on instinct, he reached for her, shifting her on the cushions until she was nestled up under his arm.
“How long did you know each other?”
“Oh, man.” She laughed, the sound tinged with awe. “Close to twenty years? Her family moved right in the middle of our sophomore year of high school.”
“And you guys have been best friends ever since?”
“No.” Another laugh, this one louder, stronger than the last. “Wehatedeach other right up until the last week of summer before our senior year. Every summer, the previous year’s seniors throw this giant bonfire for the incoming seniors. Sort of a passing of the torch, I guess.”
“That sounds…very small town.”
“It was. And I loved it. I’d been looking forward to that bonfire ever since I stepped foot in that school the first day of freshman year.”
He could see her, young and wild, the firelight dancing across her face as she chugged some watered-down mixed drink in a bottle, her laughter ringing out into the night. The sweetness of it, that innocence just on the verge of adulthood, made his throat ache.
Had he ever been that young and innocent? If so, he couldn’t remember. There had always been a sense of duty hanging over his head, right up until he’d shed his family’s expectations and applied to law school.
And even then, he certainly hadn’t been innocent. Not by a long shot.