“They sneak up on you like that sometimes,” Mitch said, staring across the rooftop at his wife. “You never really see it coming.”
“Psh,” Logan scoffed. “I saw Chloe coming from a mile away.”
“Yeah well you’ve literally known her your entire life,” Brent reminded him. “Personally, I never saw Berk coming. But once she showed up…I was done for.”
“We know,” Logan and Mitch said simultaneously, and I choked on a laugh as Brent crossed his arms petulantly over hischest.
“So what exactly are you waiting for?” Mitch asked me.
“Her,” I said. “She’s been through some shit, and I’m not trying to rush her. She’s also so much younger than me, you know?”
Logan rolled his eyes. “She’s twenty-seven, man. Not exactlyyoung.”
“I know, it’s just…” I trailed off, unsure how I wanted to finish that statement. They seemed to get what I was saying, though—Mitch especially.
“I waited a long time for that girl,” Mitch said. “I would’ve waited forever if that’s what she needed from me. She’s it for me, and even when it killed me to give her that space, she was worth it.”
I scrubbed a hand over my face then tossed back the rest of my whiskey, the burn down my throat doing nothing to soothe the fire Delia ignited in my blood. Still, I couldn’t look away from her. I was mesmerized by the way the firelight danced on her dark hair, turning it more milk than dark chocolate, by the way those same flames set her eyes aglow.
And when she glanced up to find me staring, I held those whiskey depths with my ocean ones, wondering if she could read all over my face what I was thinking. That I wanted to be part of more nights like this in more than just a physical sense. That I wanted to bullshit with my married guy friends while our wives sat across the room gossiping about us, about our kids, about the fucking PTA or whatever other bullshit they wanted. That I wanted to mold our two massive families together, to make her sisters mine and my brothers and Aria hers.
That maybe, if she’d have me, I wanted forever with her.
“What was the comment you made to Mitch earlier about his back?” Delia asked in the car on the way home from the bar.
I shifted to face her, her profile illuminated by the passing street lights. “About five years ago, only a few seasons after my shoulder injury, he took a bad hit in a game that aggravated an old lower back injury. He was forced into early retirement or he risked paralysis in his lower extremities.”
Delia gasped. “God, that’s awful.”
I nodded, though she wasn’t looking at me, and swallowed around the lump that had lodged in my throat. Talking about this stuff was always difficult for me, dredging up memories I’d rather stayed buried. “It is,” I agreed. “It’s…hard. Giving it up. Losing it. This intrinsic piece of you is just gone suddenly, and you have to figure out how to fill the hole.”
“Which is why you started your little business empire,” she said, shooting me a grin, teeth flashing in the dark, and slapping a palm down on my thigh.
Her warmth spread through me instantly, and it took every ounce of willpower I had to keep my cock from hardening. I only covered my hand with hers and growled, “There’s nothing little about it, Whiskey.”
Our car pulled up to the hotel then, and as she exited, she tossed over her shoulder, “We’ll see.”
Fuck, she was going to be the death of me.
As we strode into the lobby, I extended my stride to catch upwith her, unable to resist the urge to hold her hand. When we touched, she only looked up at me briefly, giving my fingers a squeeze as we made our way to the elevator.
Safely ensconced inside, without looking at me, Delia said quietly, “You can talk to me about it, you know. Any of it. Losing football. Your dad.”
“I know, Whiskey,” I whispered. “But I don’t want you to have to carry that on top of all your shit.”
“I don’t mind,” she said, turning to face me. “In fact, I’maskingyou to let me. Let me bear some of the burden for you. I trusted you with my so-called ‘shit,’ so why can’t you do the same?”
“It’s not that easy.”
“It could be,” she said. “You’re just being a man about the whole thing.”
The elevator doors opened then, and she ripped her hand free from mine and stomped off down the hall. I chased after her, catching her around the waist before she could unlock her door.
“Owen!” she squealed as I hauled her backward, in the direction of my room. “Put me down right now!”
“No,” I grumbled.
Even as I keyed open my door, I wasn’t sure what I’d say to her, what words I’d be able to force out of that locked cage inside me where everything I didn’t want to face lived.
