“You…had plans. It would have been wrong of me to say anything, and… and I didn’t think you’d want me to. Which is fine,” I’m quick to add, pulling my hands back because, shit, this is a whole new level of awkward. “You told me from the start that we were nothing.”
He reaches over his hip and places a hand on my forearm. “Itwasn’tnothing. I didn’t think I was allowed to have anything else besides the future I’d been training for, so I…” And like that, his hand is gone. He grips his hair above his forehead and mutters a curse.
I want to crawl in on myself until I disappear. Curling my toes inside my shoes, I force myself to stay put.
I think I’m the one being turned down now. It’s fine. It isn’t, but it is. I told myself I would be okay with whatever happens between us, and I meant it. Honestly, I’m glad I got that off my chest. Fifteen years was a long time to hold it in, and someone needed to restore whatever that reporter’s words took from him.
“I knew.”
The soft words have me blinking at his shadowed profile. Eyes closed, he lets out a long stream of air. “I think I knew sometimes—the way you looked at me… It made my heart feel like it was going to beat out of my chest. It scared the shit out of me, because the only other thing that made me feel anywhereclose to that good was when I was on the field winning.That, I knew how to do.”
My obsession was too much. Imagine that? I chuckle despite the fresh loss of both my old and new hopes, plucking at the comforter.
“Well, I’m flattered to know I was as good as football. Coming from you, that’s huge.”
He reaches out and grips my arm again, giving it a squeeze. “You are so much more than that, Remy. But that probably doesn’t do the sentiment any justice, considering I don’t have football now.” Shifting, he turns over and leans up on an elbow. I wait, suspended, snared by the pleading in his eyes. “I never imagined anyone could look at me the way you do—like they see something and they mean it. Seeing myself in your eyes and wondering if it’s a dream…” His head shakes. “All the pain, the accident, the years in between then and now, I’d go through it all over again if I knew that getting to know you was the reward on the other side.”
Don’tkiss him. Don’t.Kiss. Him.
Yes, that’s the sweetest thing I’ve ever heard, but maybe he’s just having a moment of gratitude over pulling himself out of the rut he was in. He did that, not me. He didn’t have to show up at my house every morning for the last two weeks and force himself to socialize out of his comfort zone.
Swallowing, my nervous laughter is as weak as I feel. “You don’t have to sweet-talk me for a massage.”
He smiles and rubs his thumb over the soft skin at the hinge of my elbow, spreading gooseflesh up my arm. His lips part and then…my stomach produces a ferocious growl that has Gale popping up on all fours at attention. Can you say bad timing?
“Shit. Have you eaten?”
“Yes. I had a kraken for lunch. He’s still digesting.” He snickers at that, but still looks endearingly concerned over thestate of my noisy stomach. “I was too busy to take my lunch break today, but I’m fine. I’ll grab something when I get home.”
Pressing his other hand to the mattress, he hefts himself up and nods for me to move, swinging his legs off the edge of the bed when I get up. “Let me make you dinner.”
“Oh, no. Chris, you don’t have to feed me.”
Swiping a shirt off the end of his bed, he wrestles it over his shoulders and stands, concealing the patterns on his skin. I can tell he’s still stiff, his spine forcing him to lean forward slightly. That puts his gaze nearly level with mine when he turns around. And, holy shit, I could swim in it, the tender set of his brow doing all sorts of things to my heart.
“Let me make you dinner,” he repeats, softer this time, tilting one brow higher, but there’s nothing intimidating about it. Gale hops off the bed with a half-sneeze, half-snort, wagging her tail excitedly as though she knows what the word‘dinner’means. God, they’re a pair.
“Onlyif I can help.”
If victory had a name, it would be the smile that stretches across his face. He leans in and gives the side of my hip a swat.
“Fucking-A right you’re gonna help. We don’t take no freeloaders here, do we, Gale?”
Patting his leg, he hobbles out of the room, his uneven footsteps echoing a cadence similar to my pulse, Gale eagerly trotting at his side. Yeah. He’s it for me. Sighing, I follow the big man with big feelings and his big dog down the hallway.
CHAPTER 15
Chris
The steamroller I feel like I got hit with is still idling like it wants another go at me, but laughing, cooking, and eating dinner with Remy have put a wheel chock under its rollers for the past hour and a half. The massage also helped. The man has magic hands. Why am I even surprised?
He looks good in my house. Good in my kitchen. Good standing next to me at the sink while I pass him dishes to dry. The glow of the overhead light is highlighting all his features, giving him an angelic aura that he completely embodies.
He hada hard time seeing me go…
I want to go back in time and kick my own ass. Fifteen years wasted.
All right, I shouldn’t say they were wasted, considering that would mean he would have had to see me all messed up in those early days. However, I might not have made the same stupid mistake if he’d been waiting for me to come home to after that party. If I’d known his worth back then.
