And, oh, God, I think I even tried to kiss him last night.
My cheeks heat up with the memory just as he opens his eyes. His gorgeous, deep blue eyes, that have been inviting me in ever since he first locked them on mine.
“How are you feeling?” he asks, leaning forward so his jacket slides to the floor, the zippers clanking as it does.
“Honestly?” I ask. “I feel like I’ve been tossed in a washing machine and put through a full wash cycle. Twice.”
He chuckles at that and brushes away a lock of my hair that had fallen over my eyes. The touch of his fingers against my skin is pure electricity, and it erases at least a third of my aches and pains in my body. Just his solid, protective presence takes care of almost all the rest.
“Been there, done that,” he says. “So I know it’s no fun.”
There are fresh, pristine white bandages on his forearms.
“And you?” I ask. “Were you hurt?”
He shakes his head. “Nah, these are old and almost healed. But they insist on re-wrapping them all the time.”
His face is less than a foot from mine and I wish it was closer. I wish I could kiss him again. Properly this time.
Which reminds me of all else that’s gone wrong between us.
“I’ve been so nasty to you,” I say. “Why are you still here?”
I tried to make it sound funny but failed. I also tried to chuckle, but the pain in my side that caused was no joke.
“Honestly?” he asks and I nod.
“It’s because you mean something to me,” he says. “Beats me why.”
He is joking, there’s no doubt about that.
“Just what I always wanted to hear,” I say lightly, although this is the closest any guy has ever come to admitting having feelings for me. My fault, probably, because I haven’t had so much as a sliver of social life in years.
Or maybe it’s because the guy meant to say it is only just now sitting next to me.
“I was totally wrong about you. I accused of doing so many bad things, and I was completely wrong,” I say. “I’m sorry.”
“I’ve done plenty of bad things,” he says in a serious tone. “Just none of what you accused me of.”
The silence that follows is as heavy as lead. He’s a killer, that’s what he’s telling me, and that’s what I saw him be last night. It is not a thing that bothers me. Not as much as I thought it would.
“Either way, I’m sorry. I misjudged you,” I say.
He grins, the hardness melting off his face like it never was. “How about instead of you apologizing over and over again, we just agree to start over? From the beginning.”
I like the sound of that. I like the way his whole face lights up like a little kid’s when he smiles. I like the way he makes me feel so light and carefree, as though there’s nothing for me to worry about in the whole wide world.
I smile too, and extend my hand to him, ignoring the pain that pierces my side as I do. “Hi. I’m Veronica.”
He takes my hand, erasing almost all the pain in the process. “And I’m Chance. Nice to meet you.”
Then he leans down and kisses me gently on the lips. And that erases the last of the lingering pain in my body. There’s an inferno of passion behind that kiss, but he’s keeping it tightly leashed as his lips brush against mine. Or maybe that’s my passion. I can’t be sure. But I mean to find out, over and over, until I am sure.
And we do.
And by the time the doctor comes to examine me and Chance leaves the room, telling me he’ll be right back, I am sure.
Sure that I definitely feel a little something for him too. More than just a little something, if I’m honest.