My shoulders fall. “I know, but?—”
“Listen.” His feet hit the floor, and he ditches the popcorn, taking my hands. “We’re in this together. Don’t worry about me. So far, I’m already worlds ahead of where I was last year. And seeing you through this matters to me. I don’t really know why, other than I want you to have those kids. I’m sure if I dug down far enough, it would probably be because I wasn’t here last year when my mom needed me the most. And I want you to be there for those kids when they need you most. Maybe not. But you do need to know something.”
“I’m starting to think we should pitch in for our own personal therapist.”
He squeezes my hands. “I know it’s the wrong time and all that, but I’m sorry to tell you that I like you, Leighton.”
My hands go limp in his. This is not the way I thought he’d ever confess his feelings for me. To apologize as if it’s a horrible thing.
“But I’m going to respect your wishes.”
What wishes were those?
Oh yeah, for nothing to happen between us. I have too much going on, and neither of us is in a place to start something.
“Oh… yeah… thanks.” I play it off, even if I want to ditch the holding hands and go right to lip-smacking.
“I’ll keep my distance until you say go.”
Would he think less of me if I said go right now? Yes, because he needs to win the Gold Glove, and I need to win custody, and if we try to start something and we fail, then both of our lives will be upended.
I’m a jumble of emotions, and it’s hard to make sense of any of them. I’m ecstatic that Hayes likes me in that way, but full of disappointment because it doesn’t change anything.
“I should go.” I stand, sliding my hands from his.
Thankfully, he doesn’t fight me on it. “I’ll walk you out.”
And that’s that, I suppose. He confesses he likes me and is willing to start something as soon as I say so, then I just run away again.
“Can I ask you something before you go?” Hayes asks as we reach the bar area on the roof. His voice sounds pained.
“Um, sure.”
“Can I have a hug?” His smile is sheepish and endearing. I could never say no. “You know, therapy and all that. I’m feeling vulnerable, and hugs release oxytocin.” He opens his arms wide.
“This is such a bad idea,” I mumble, but I step into his arms anyway.
He wraps them around my waist, palms flat against my back, pulling me flush against him. His chest is broad and solid, but he holds me as if I’m the prized teddy bear he won at the fair.
His chin angles down, nuzzling into my hair. The sensation is dizzying and unreal. I’ve spent years avoiding Hayes, and now he holds me as though he understands me and the trials I’m facing. I don’t know if and when I’ll get this again, so I try to memorize the feel of him. The scent of him. But this is a terrible idea, and if I ever have any hopes of moving on from him, I can’t let it continue. So, I pull away, but he clings tighter.
“Twenty seconds.” His breath warms my neck.
“That’s a very specific number,” I whisper, fully engulfed in his intoxicating bubble.
“Google it,” he whispers back. “That’s how long it takes for the oxytocin to kick in.”
His fingers stroke up and down my spine in a soothing, repetitive motion. The rhythm is so hypnotic, I sink into his arms a little deeper. He buries his face in my neck, inhaling, exhaling, as though he’s trying to calm himself but failing. Because when my hand weaves between us and I lay it over his heart, it’s practically beating out of his chest.
“Leighton.”
I’ve never heard my name spoken with such reverence. The one word like a plea.
“Hayes,” I answer with a similar tone, but more of a surrender. My tongue wets my lower lip, a subconscious acquiescence.
We’re like a snagged ribbon, both our consciences fraying the longer we’re entwined.
His cheek brushes mine once, then twice, and our lips find each other’s. A soft, tentative press that lingers. Neither of us pulls away, so we continue tempting fate until a collision of hunger erupts that’s years in the making.
