Phil’s POV
“I love you.”
I could still hear it on repeat, sounding over and over in my head.
He’d said it twice.
And I could see his face, the intensity in his gaze when he’d said it.
Twice.
It was like the second time he was making sure I’d heard him.
And I . . . want to ask.
I tried to ask.
“What?”
He was munching away on chips, leaned back against the couch, frowning at me and I ducked my head. “Nothing.”
“You want to say something?” he wondered, bumping my leg with his. Shaking my head no, I peeked up at him to take in his unhappy expression. “Why are you all the way over there?” He glanced at the space between us and I stiffened, realizing what he was asking.
“I’m not that far,” I mumbled.
“I can’t even reach you,” he
