A Season for Hope (Sarra Cannon) by Sarra Cannon Page B

get upset, hang up and then refuse to answer your phone.”
    My mouth drops open, but I still don’t have a response. I turn my face away from him, feeling childish and awful.
    He paces the space behind the couch. “Is there something else wrong?” he asks. “Because I hate playing games, Bailey. I despise it. I don’t like to be manipulated or lied to, so if practically hanging up on me is your version of trying to get me to do something you want, you need to tell me to my face what it is. I don’t want to have to start trying to read between the lines with you.”
    I do everything I can to hold back my tears, but it’s no use. I don’t really know how to react to this. I’m not used to just saying what I mean or what I’m feeling. “I wasn’t trying to manipulate you,” I say, the tears obvious in my voice. “I was trying to tell you that to me, meeting your friends is a really big step.”
    “Okay,” he says, leaning against the back of the couch. “Explain that to me.”
    I shrug. “I have no idea who they are,” I say. “I don’t know what kind of people they are or what they expect from me.”
    He narrows his eyes at me, his lips parting slightly. “I don’t understand what you mean,” he says. “They don’t expect anything from you.”
    My face tenses and my head pounds. “I don’t know how to explain it without sounding stupid,” I say, wiping the tears from my eyes. “I’m scared that your friends won’t like me, okay? What if I wear the wrong clothes or I don’t fit in? What if they don’t think I’m right for you? Then what?”
    He shakes his head and walks toward me. “Is that seriously what you’re worried about? That my friends won’t approve of you?”
    I nod and sniff, turning away so he won’t see me crying.
    But he takes my shoulders in his strong hands and gently turns me back to face him. “Bailey, you don’t have to worry about that for one second,” he says. “I like you. That’s all that matters to them. Trust me. They’ll love you.”
    For some reason, that only makes me cry harder. “You don’t know that,” I say.
    “Yes I do,” he says softly. He pushes my hair back from my face and cups my cheek. “And even if they don’t, it’s not going to make any difference to me. I already care about you too much to worry about what they think.”
    I sniff again and look up to meet his gaze. “You do?”
    He nods and smiles, then kisses my forehead. “Yes,” he says. “I thought you already knew that.”
    I shake my head and turn toward his hand, kissing his palm. “I’m sorry,” I whisper. “I kind of freaked out.”
    “I could tell,” he says with a laugh. “But next time you freak out can you just talk to me about it instead of hanging up and refusing to answer my calls?”
    I nod. “I still can’t believe you came all the way over here.”
    I’m so used to playing games with Preston. Hanging up to try to get him to understand that he’s made me angry. Or to get him to agree to something I want. Waiting to see how long it will take him to show up at my doorstep with roses.
    Judd’s right, in a way, I was trying to manipulate him.
    I never expected him to drive straight here and call me on it.
    “Communication is the one thing that matters most to me,” he says. “No games or secrets, okay? I know it’s only been a week, but I really like you, Bailey. I really think there could be something special between us if we give it a chance.”
    “I like you, too,” I say. “I’m sorry I didn’t answer the phone.”
    He leans down and kisses both my cheeks, then plants a soft kiss on my lips. “You can always just be honest with me,” he says. “I hope you know that.”
    “I do,” I say.
    “Besides, if I hadn’t come over here, I might have missed seeing the Christmas spectacle that is this apartment.”
    I look around and giggle. Compared to his sad little tree, our apartment is like a winter wonderland. There are Christmas