Page 46 of Worth the Shot

Neither one of us speaks. There’s no need. The quiet fills the room, gentle and easy, as the soft glow of the Christmas lights flickers against the windowpane, casting patterns across her back. Snow taps lightly against the glass, muffled and rhythmic. She exhales, a tiny sound that sounds like something between relief and release. I loosen my hold just enough to look at her, but not enough to let her go. Her eyes lift to mine, still glossy and shining.

“You okay?” I ask, voice barely more than a breath.

She nods once in a small and honest way. “Yeah,” she whispers. “I just…haven’t felt him this close in a long time.”

I brush my thumb across her upper back slowly. “I’m glad he felt close tonight.”

Her lips lift at the corner, soft and trembly. “Me too.”

We stay intertwined for what feels like a stolen pocket of time. Just two people standing in a dim kitchen on Christmas night, holding onto something neither one of us is ready to name. Eventually, she pulls in a shaky breath and rests her forehead briefly against my chest before stepping back. Not far, but just enough to look at me fully.

“Thank you,” she says, voice thick but steady. “For…this. All of it.”

I nod, swallowing down the thousand things I want to say. “Anything for you, Laney.”

She smiles and it’s real this time. Soft, grateful, a little fragile, but stronger than she knows. Somewhere in the low glow of those warm, old Christmas lights, she looks like a wish I didn’t realize my heart made a long time ago, finally coming true.

I watch her gaze drop to my lips, then snap back up to my eyes like she’s caught herself doing something dangerous. Her mouth opens, like she’s about to say something, but she doesn’t. Instead, her eyes drift back down again, biting her lip just barely, but I see it.

My hand slides to her face, my thumb brushing over her bottom lip, light enough to question whether it really happened. She shivers. Her breath hitches, but she doesn’t move. She doesn’t pull away. She stays right here, in this moment, letting me inch closer.

I’m nervous, practically sweating, but I push through it because this feels like everything. Answering all of my questions, silencing all of my fears, telling me she wants this too. Our lips are so close I can feel her breath against mine, warm and unsteady, and I can’t take it anymore. Her hand lifts, reaching for mine—just for a second⁠—

Until the light snaps on.

Fuck.

She jerks back so fast it feels like a direct hit.

“You guys just…chilling in the dark?” Shayne says, eyebrows raised like a hall monitor at a middle-school dance, waiting for someone to crack.

“Shut up,” Delaney mutters, punching him lightly in the arm before disappearing into the other room.

“What was that about?” Shayne asks, smirking like he already knows.

“Nothing, man,” I say. “Just a hug. That’s all.”

“Right,” he replies. “None of my business anyway.” He grabs a beer from the fridge and follows Delaney.

I stand there longer than I should, staring at the empty doorway they disappeared through. My thumb still tingles like her lip is pressed there, like she’s still right in front of me.

We may not have kissed, but we definitely crossed something tonight that I don’t know how to step back from.

And the worst part?

She just did, and she made it look too damn easy.

Chapter Eighteen

Delaney

I don’t remember the last time I let someone hold me like that. It wasn’t the side-hug you give a friend, not the polite lean-in you give a coworker, and definitely not the stiff, obligatory half-embrace I used to get from Matt when he remembered affection was a thing.

This was different.

This was warm and safe in a way that somehow also felt dangerous.

Being in Brennan’s arms felt like stepping into a memory I didn’t know I still carried. One with soft lights, gingerbread, and my dad humming off-key while decorating cookies.