God, was she falling in love with Zeke?

She’d never been in love. Or at least if she had been in love, it had been booze-soaked toxicity built on shifting sands.

He dropped her hand from his lips but kept it cradled in his big warm one.

“You make me feel like a normal person, Zeke,” she said.

Zeke squeezed her hand. “Chase, you know you’re a real person, right? I know your world has done a number on you. I remember what it’s like in that hustle. You’re always donning a persona to work people to your advantage. It’s an exhausting way to live. I jumped out before I got sucked in, but I started much later than you. You were born into chaos, growing up with all the wrong information about the world. You’re still you. You still matter. You fucked up. But you still matter, honey.”

Tears pricked at her eyes. She’d wanted to not feel so much tonight—only enjoy being with a guy on a sort of date. She’d been on dates before, or what seemed to be dates. She wasn’t sure. Was hooking up with a guy at a club a date? Or going to a premiere with someone? She’d gone out to dinner with guys a few times, but it had never felt like a date. It had felt like eating with someone. A date seemed something more.

Sitting here with the man who had the right words, who wasn’t trying to get her in bed or use her in any way, who gently kissed her hand like a courtier, felt like a date.

“You know all the right things to say,” she said finally, after juggling the wineglass so she could swipe her finger at the moisture beneath her lower lashes. Because she didn’t want to let go of his hand.

“No, I’m not saying the right things because they’ll get me somewhere. I’m telling the truth, Chase. Stop tearing yourself apart. Everyone does dumb stuff, everyone screws up. That is being human.” He released her hand, and she immediately missed his touch. Who would have thought that Chase London would have found holding hands so sexy, so comforting, so necessary in life?

Zeke leaned over and rummaged around in the basket. “Let’s have some s’mores. Or hot dogs? I brought both.”

“Um, hot dogs and then s’mores?” She clapped her hands at the thought. Roasting weenies and marshmallows to the sound of a clarinet was thrilling. That thought made her giggle.

“What?” he said, smiling up at her as he pulled out some metal prongs.

“This is so much fun.”

“And you haven’t even tasted the s’mores yet.”

“I don’t need to. This is the best night ever.”

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

CHAPTER SIXTEEN