Page 63 of Promise

Don’t let my walls be so thick someone can’t get through them. Or love can’t get out.

While I’ve worked hard to keep emotions in, it might be time to set them free. Not just the anger and disappointment, but forgiveness. Real forgiveness. And as mom said, maybe allow a little fun. See if Dart and I can be who we once were. Or even better.

With this thought in mind, I close the refrigerator door and shriek.

“Jesus,” I hiss, flattening my hand over my chest, glaring at Dart, who stands near the corner of the fridge, originally blocked from view by the previously open door.

“Nope.” He smiles, wide and lazy. “Just me.” He’s wearing a backward ball cap and smells like summer evenings and baseball diamonds.

“I didn’t hear you come in.” I swallow thickly, my heart still racing. “Did you have fun tonight?”

He shrugs and leans against the corner of the fridge. “Eh. Hit a double. Struck out once. Was hit in another time.”

I smile. I’m glad he’s reconnecting with his friends. Friends are important, which reminds me I haven’t been to book club in weeks. Other than the impromptu baby shower and our active group text, I hadn’t been out with my friends in a while.

Dart doesn’t move, still leaning casually against the edge of the fridge.

“How are Hutch and Marshall?” I ask.

“Good. Petty is back.”

“Petty?” How have I missed that? Another prodigal son, though Petty has been much more wayward than Dart.

I chuckle with surprise. “How is the rambling musician?”

“I’d rather talk about you.” He pauses, his eyes glowing from the light behind me over the stove. “I feel like you’ve been avoiding me.”

“Avoiding you?” I laugh nervously. He’s practically everywhere I am. Giving Mirabelle a bath, Dart is there, hand on my lower back, cooing at her in the kitchen sink. Feeding Mirabelle a bottle at night, Dart is beside me on the couch, arm against my arm.

I feel like I couldn’t get away from Dart if I tried, and I’m not certain I want to. Be away from him, that is.

Still, I’m afraid to make another move.

Somehow, I’ve twisted so my back is against the fridge, and Dart is in front of me, arm raised so he can clutch the top of the appliance.

“Avoiding me,” he repeats.

His eyes are so bright despite the dim room. And laser-focused on me. My eyes. Like he wants to read all my thoughts. If only he could.

“What do you need?” he whispers, dropping his gaze to my mouth.

“Uhm. What do I need for what?” I’m making no sense because he’s suddenly invading all my senses. That outdoor scent. The gleam in his eyes. How close he is.

“What do you need from me? To help us move forward.”

“Oh.” I clear my throat. “I . . . I haven’t really thought about it.”

But I have. I need him to promise not to hurt me again. Not to leave me. But I can’t make him give me promises he can’t guarantee to keep. I can’t ask him to stay.

“You haven’t?” His brows lift, his chest rises, but he doesn’t shift from caging me in against the fridge. The coolness from the stainless-steel seeps into my back.

My mom’s advice comes back to me again.

“Okay. I need you to be open with me. Honest. If you feel me pushing you away or find yourself pulling back, we need to talk.”

He nods, blinking a few times before settling his gaze on my mouth again. “I can do that.”

“And what about from me?” My voice sounds small, quiet in the already quiet space. The hum of the fridge behind me. The slowness of Dart’s breath.