“But that doesn’t mean I don’t want to know what’s going on with you,” I continued. “Or that I don’t care.”
“You put your team first.”
I dropped my cheek to the top of her head. “I didn’t with Shannon, and that got me booted from Toronto. So then I spent five years focusing only on my team, and you know what?”
I waited until she asked, “What?”
“That wasn’t the right choice either because I’ve been lonely. I’ve missed having someone to share with—the details of my day, a drink, a snuggle in bed.”
She blinked up at me, mouth open just enough to show her teeth. One of her bottom ones sat a little in front of the other, and her top right incisor overlapped its neighbor just a hair. She wasn’t perfect or perfected by veneers and personal trainers and Botox and surgeries. Keelie was a product of her life experiences—some of which haunted her.
“You…want to snuggle?” she said after a moment.
“The other night I loved it.”
Her expression softened.
“Who doesn’t like to touch another person?”
“Serial killers?”
I chuckled. “I’ll give you that one. But who else wouldn’t?”
She pursed her lips. “Grumpy buttholes who yell at you to get off their lawn?”
I shook my head. “Untrue. I think those guys want comfort and love more than most. That’s why they’re grumpy. Kind of like a beautiful woman I know who keeps trying to shut me out because something bad happened in her life.” I tapped the tip of her nose. She scrunched it, and that was so cute. I had to press my lips to the crinkles.
She giggled as she pressed her nose into my chest. My world righted. I would break some body parts or threaten people or, hell, pay them off if it meant Keelie wouldn’t cry. But this didn’t feel like love—not like the emotion I’d had for Shannon.Thiswas bigger and scarier because it was so uncontrollable.
She could hurt me.Badly. But as I looked down into those bloodshot eyes so filled with hope, yearning for the love denied her, I couldn’t fathom me doing anything other than falling hard for Keelie Hayes.
“Ready to tellme what’s bothering you?” I asked a little while later.
I’d maneuvered us to her couch—an uncomfortable but sleek design too short for me to stretch my legs out. Worse, the low back couldn’t support my shoulders and neck. I squirmed, trying to find a position where parts of me weren’t screaming in pain or stabbed with pins and needles.
“Marian left,” Keelie said.
I stilled. My left hand cupped her shoulder, my right her hip. Keelie picked at my jeans, worrying a thread from the pattern. I’d end up with a hole, but I didn’t ask her to stop. If that made her feel better, I’d wear holey jeans or buy another pair.
With a long sigh, Keelie recounted her phone conversation with Marian, and then the one with the concierge at Marian’s building. I held her, trying to keep my muscles relaxed, but damn, that was hard. My jaw ticked as I clamped my teeth together.
“She doesn’t sound like much of a friend.”
“I agree,” Keelie said. “But that blindsided me because I thought we were friends. Looking back now, I have a different lens—a clearer one, I hope. But this also shows me I’m not the best judge of character, and if I was wrong about Marian…” She trailed off, but the rest of the statement sprawled in front of me.
“Don’t,” I said, tone sharp.
She tensed. “Don’t what?”
“Don’t compare me to her. That’s going to piss me off.”
She looked up at me quickly. “I…I didn’t… I wasn’t…”
“You already did. That’s why you tried to kick me out earlier.” I extricated myself from her and rose so I could pace. “Is it always going to be like this? Me fighting to prove I won’t leave?”
“I…I told you I have trust issues,” she ground out.
“Yeah, but you haven’t told me what those are.”
