“I’d have driven to the ends of the Earth, belle.”
Oh wow.
Moisture washed into her eyes.
Hold that thought about sweet nothings—
“That’s probably how long it would have taken you to simply return my call. Christ.”
She started to laugh.
Holy cow, she’d missed him more than she realized. Like a hundred times more.
“Don’t you dare laugh. I’ve been through hell. That was the worst hour of my life.”
She wrapped her arms around his neck, sighing when he lifted her more securely against his chest, her feet leaving the floor. “I know. I’m sorry.” Discreetly, she inhaled his neck, letting the combination of soap and sweat seep into her skin. “You’re still paying for my door. Did you even knock?”
“Nope.”
Wells walked them over to the couch and turned, sitting down heavily. And because of the way they’d been standing, she had no choice but to wrap her thighs around his hips, straddling him on the couch, her face smooshed in his neck.
Right. No choice at all.
“Listen, belle,” he started a few seconds later, his palm stroking down the back of her head, still shaking slightly. “I remember what you told me. About your parents making a fuss about diabetes and how it reminds you there’s something to fear. I know you can take care of yourself. This just threw me, okay? I didn’t know what was happening.”
“I understand.”
“I won’t lose my shit next time.” He paused to let out a jagged breath. “But you should still answer your goddamn phone.”
She nuzzled her smiling face farther into his neck.
“Because I don’t wear matching outfits for just anyone, Josephine. I don’t wear them for anyone but . . .” He jerked a shoulder. “You know who.”
“Me.”
A gruff grunt was his response. “Your dad didn’t even answer my call,” he said after a moment, sounding stunned.
“Oh? Were you calling him to ask more intrusive questions about me?”
Wells cursed. “I knew the old man wouldn’t keep quiet.”
She laid her cheek on his warm shoulder, almost moaning over the way his palm rode up and down her spine. The loneliness inside her had fled as soon as they were touching, and slowly it was replaced with relief, security, a sense of balance, and peace. Even if their default method of communication was bickering. “You wanted to know my birthday, I understand.”
“That’s right. It’s the Wednesday we fly to California. I already have a present.”
“No, you don’t,” she scoffed, lifting her head to make eye contact—
And caught the tail end of pure, undiluted affection before he hid it away.
“You’ll just have to wait and see, won’t you?” he said curtly, brushing Josephine’s hair back from her face. His attention fell to her mouth, before he dragged it away. “Jesus, I can barely feel my arms. I think my adrenaline is crashing.”
“Do you want to”—she sniffed him—“take a shower? Maybe it’ll help with the nerves.”
“Flattering as ever, belle,” he griped. “I was mid-workout, you know.”
“I’m sorry for interrupting.”
He stood up, seemingly unfazed by a full-grown woman clinging to the front of his body. “You don’t sound very sorry,” he remarked. Was his voice deepening? “At all.”
She dropped her legs from around his waist, patting his wrist to let him know he was still holding her in a death grip.
She had no idea what was going to happen between herself and Wells. After all, she still had the same concerns as the last time they were together.
Yet no matter what happened, Wells would always be the first person to crack the code to Josephine’s safe. He was kind of an asshole, but in a way that made her feel . . . like an equal member of a team. People had shied away from challenging Josephine too much her whole life, no matter how often she proved herself capable or fought against the notion that she was weak. At the same time, she knew if she needed to lean on him, he’d hold her up without making a big deal out of it.
Kicking in the door didn’t count—not knowing that she would suddenly go offline had been a legitimate reason for concern. He’d recovered and started giving her shit about it as soon as possible, too, which was weirdly . . . perfect.
“Wells.”
Finally, he released her and turned for the hallway, assuming the correct way to the bathroom. “Yeah?”