8. Henry

CHAPTER EIGHT

henry

I’m not sure how long I lie against Felix’s side, relishing his body heat and his firm strong muscles against my own. I don’t want to move. My whole body is exhausted. Just thinking about Maggie does that to me every time.

I miss her, and I hate her at the same damn time.

I don’t know how that’s possible.

Felix startles me out of my thoughts when he says in a quiet voice, “You don’t have to talk about it anymore. I’m sorry I made you do that.”

I lift my head enough to look up at him, into his intense eyes, and I nearly lose my breath at how stunningly beautiful he is. And kind. I’ve never met anyone like him before. At first, I genuinely thought he might be a little crazy, but now, I don’t know. It’s like maybe those angel-like people you see on television sometimes actually exist.

That’s Felix.

I’ve heard a few more things about him at the gym, here and there. That he volunteers at homeless shelters. And how we hadn’t crossed paths before is beyond me, but there are a lot of shelters in this city. He also volunteers at animal shelters. And goes to rallies, fighting for different types of injustice all over the place.

He campaigns for political leaders who actually seem to care.

Because Felix cares. Deeply. In ways I’m not sure I’ll ever comprehend. I’ve spent most of my life just trying to survive. I haven’t been able to grasp that level of caring about the world.

But Felix does.

All I’ve ever known were people who know how to take and not give. Who take and take until there’s nothing left but bitterness.

I don’t know what else to say because I can’t talk about Maggie anymore. It’s too painful. And somehow, we end up with his forehead against mine and his hand on the back of my neck as he holds me.

My eyes drop to his lips—his full, beautiful lips—and for the first time in a really long time, I think about kissing someone. But not just anyone. Felix.

He looks uncertain, his brow creased, but I know he feels it too. It would be so easy to close the gap. Taste his lips and let the pain drift away for a few moments, but just as he moves to lean forward a little more, I pull away.

Because Felix deserves so much better than that. He doesn’t deserve to be used for a few moments of pleasure, only to be thrown away when the darkness takes over my soul and I can’t return any of the good he offers.

I have to focus on my daughter.

And I won’t hurt the friend that I lucked into only a couple of weeks ago.

His eyes go wide, and he moves backward, looking thoroughly freaked-out. “Oh my God.” He covers his mouth and looks totally in shock as he shakes his head. “I’m so sorry, Henry. I can’t believe I . . .”

He shakes his head, and I want to kiss him badly. To pull his body to mine and kiss the hell out of him. To tell him he hasn’t done anything wrong, and that includes nearly kissing me. That the wrong is all on me. That he shouldn’t waste his time on me. “It’s nothing, Felix. It’s okay.”

“It’s not.” His eyes meet mine, and I see them shining like he’s close to tears. “You’re vulnerable and hurting and telling me about the worst time in your life. Losing the love of your life, and I was thinking about kissing you.”

“Felix . . .” I start, but he jumps up from the couch, keeping his voice low, probably so he won’t wake Hazel.

“I’m sorry. It won’t happen again, okay?” He shakes his head. “God, kissing a straight guy. A vulnerable and hurting straight guy. What the hell was I thinking?”

I should correct him. Comfort him. Tell him I wanted him to kiss me. But I hold back from that because I don’t want to complicate things. “Hey,” I say firmly and pull his gaze to mine. “You didn’t do anything wrong, Felix. You’re the best friend I think I’ve ever had.”

“And I was going to kiss you,” he says brokenly, and I hate that. I hate it so damn much because I did that. My clouds touched his sunshine and are starting to overshadow it.

“Felix, please don’t do this to yourself. You didn’t do anything.” I reach out for his hand, and he lets me pull him back down next to me on the couch. Though he makes sure to leave some space between our bodies.

“I’m so sorry. Thank you for sharing your story with me.”

I shake my head at him because he’s too damn kind. “Thank you for listening. For wanting to know. I know I . . .”—my voice breaks, and I hate it, but I force myself to go on—“I know I don’t make it easy. But you really are the best friend I’ve ever had.”

He finally smiles. “I am really good at being a best friend.”

I laugh softly and agree with him. “You really are.”

“Can we just forget that last part ever happened?” He turns to me, lifting his hands up in front of him, like he’s surrendering. “I promise I’ll never try to kiss you again.”

I know he’s trying to lighten the situation, but it physically hurts to think about never getting a chance to kiss him.

Still, I know it’s what’s best.

“Of course,” I force myself to say. After that, Felix seems to relax a little. We keep the conversation a lot lighter after that, but I still can’t stop thinking about it. Wondering what it would have been like if I’d have just gone with my instinct.

Given in and taken that kiss.

Because I know, without a doubt, it would have been like touching heaven.