Blackbird (a Sometimes Never novella) Read Free Page B

together and strums a chord. “I know.”
          “Then why are you mad?” I sit on the floor in front of him and search his face for some clue as to what he’s thinking.
          “I’m not mad.” He blows out a breath sending his blonde bangs fluttering. “I’m mad you didn’t talk to me. I should have been the first to know. But I’m not mad you want to move in with Mason. I think that’s…great.” He sets the guitar beside him on the bed and slides down in front of me.
          “I wanted to tell you, but we just decided, and you were still healing from the accident. I didn’t want to upset you.” I roll my eyes. “I’m an idiot.” 
          He presses his knees into mine and pokes my chin. “Yeah. You are.” He smiles weakly. “I’m just going to miss you.”
          “I’m going to miss you too,” I murmur. “You can come over all the time.”
          “I don’t like this growing up shit.”
          I lean forward until my head touches his chest. I love the way he smells. It’s not something I can identify, it’s just this great smell that makes me feel safe. I feel my eyes burn. “Yeah. Me neither.”

5 Mason
          
          
          Waking up to the sound of Hope singing in the shower is the best part of my day. I love the way the smell of her shampoo fills the small apartment. I didn’t realize I was missing anything, but ever since she moved in twelve days ago, I can’t imagine my life any different. How did I sleep in this bed before her scent was on the sheets? Before she was curled into my side every night. Before finding loose strands of her brightly colored hair on my pillow. It seems impossible that I managed to make it through each day without these small, yet consequential pieces of life.
          I rub the sleep from my eyes and my gaze lands on the cello in the corner. Every time I look at it, my heart skips a beat. I glance at the open closet, Hope’s clothes shoved in next to mine. Our closet.
          “What are you smiling about?” Hope asks, gliding into the room wrapped in a towel. Her hair is dripping down her back and I need to trace the trail the water’s made. I grab her hand as she passes and drag her into bed with me. I caress her back. She laughs and I roll us both until I’m on top of her.
          “Good morning,” I say quietly.
          “I love your sleepy voice,” she sighs. Her fingers work into my hair and I close my eyes. I fucking love that. My life is so close to perfect. It’s scary as hell.
          I press my hand into her stomach, spreading my fingers across the towel. She shakes her head. “Don’t start.” Her voice is breathless and I know she doesn’t really mean it. “We’re supposed to be at the house by noon.”
          I smirk at her deviously. “We have plenty of time.”
          Her hand on my chest stops my advance towards her neck. “I have to make the pies.” She swallows and my eyes are drawn to the delicate movement of her throat. I want to put my lips there so badly.
          She pushes against me and I roll off her with a loud groan. “Fine. Go make pie, but I better get a piece of yours as soon as we get home.”
          She pauses halfway to the closet and spins around. Without warning, she pounces on me, forcing the breath from my lungs.
          “Say it again,” Hope whispers against my cheek.
          “Ugh. What?” I croak. Her knee may have grazed a testicle. I may never be capable of having children or walking normal again. “That I want a piece of your pie? I think I tell you that every day.” I adjust her leg, moving it away from the boys, and finally look at her face. Her eyes are bright with excitement and she’s smiling widely. 
          I love her smile.
          “The part about home—as soon as we get home .”
          Jesus . This is why I love this girl. I grip her cheeks and kiss her deeply. “Our home,” I say against her lips. “Our