“That, but also, you never really say what’s on your mind, making you impossible to read,” she replies, then lays her hands over mine, which have somehow moved further up her thighs. “You’re touching me again,” she says, and it sounds more like a question than a statement.
“Is that okay?”
“Your hands are much softer than they were when you played hockey.” She adds, “I like your hands on me.”
My insides do an Olympic-winning somersault.
After a quiet moment, she says, “Something’s changed.” Then, she shares more golden nuggets of truth, saying, “That something has always been swirling around us, the flirting, the closeness, the playfulness, but when Gigi and Huck entered our lives, it disappeared. However, it’s back, and stronger than ever.” She points out, “Tell me I’m not the only one feeling this?”
“You noticed?”
Her reply drips with sincerity, her voice breathy and soft, “I notice everything about us, Leon.”
“You do?” I ask. A rush of happiness floods through me because it’s the first time she’s ever verbalized the spark that’s always been there.
I lean in, the space between us suddenly crackling with electricity.
Her eyes soften, and for a moment, the world fades away, leaving only us and the truth hanging heavy between our hearts.
“I’ve been paying attention since the day you were drafted to the Edmonton Eagles. I know how many freckles you have under each eye and understand every smile and mood of yours andtheir meaning. I know that your old hockey injuries often keep you up at night. I know how many miles you run every week, like you’re trying to outrun something you won’t talk about. I said it before, you’re impossible to read.” She doesn’t look away. “You show up at the hospital, hold and hug me like I’m yours, and we do all these couple-ish things that blur every line, like we’re more than what we say we are. Some days, you send signals, ones that pull me in, making me believe it’s something real. And then you go cold again, like none of it means anything. I end up confused, emotionally wrecked, trying to pretend I’m not.” Her voice softens, but her words land even harder. “What I’ve wrestled with, long before Huck ever came into the picture, is whether you’ve ever been serious about us or if this is all one big joke to you. You have a reputation; I know how many women you’ve been with. I’m aware of the hookups, the ones you try to keep quiet. And when I was younger, I watched it all from the sidelines, year after year. I wanted you, Leon. So bad. I ached for you. Wanted you to see me. Not as Ash’s sister, but me, Erika. The girl who was so hopelessly in love with you. I would have torn heaven out of the sky for you. But watching you with those girls.” She sighs. “Do you have any idea what that did to me?”
She loves me? No, she said shewasin love with me. Past tense.
How did I not notice or feel this before?
And shit, I may have already blown things between us.
Hearing that I hurt her, not just once but repeatedly, cuts like a blade all the way to the bone. Each syllable out of her mouth wounds me, and I might never stop bleeding.
The adrenaline I felt from running earlier has faded, replaced with a wave of self-loathing.
She stays calm, her voice steady, but every word hits me with the force of a hurricane, fast and brutal. “If you actually care about us, about our friendship, and you’re thinking about whathappens next between us, then think carefully before acting on any plans. I don’t play games, Leon. I don’t do casual. The only reason I gave Huck a chance was because, for years,youlooked right past me. I thought I could move on, but I was wrong.” She pauses just long enough to make it sting. “I know you’ve got a past. That was never my business, and I never made it mine. I accepted all of you: the good, the hard parts, even the things I didn’t like, like the girls. So, before you do what can’t be undone, or say things you can’t take back, I want you to really think about it first and be one hundred percent sure, because if we take things further, I’m not looking for something average or just a fling. I want it all.” She lifts my hands from her thighs with quiet finality. “I’ll let you finish making breakfast and give you time to think about what I just said. I’m going to take a shower.” Then, without another word, she hops off the kitchen island and walks out, leaving me standing there alone.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Erika
Tentatively, I walk down the stairs in search of the aroma that can only be described as rich and comforting; the one that has been drifting up the stairs for the last couple of hours. It smells a lot like caramelized earthy vegetables, wine stock, and something meaty. Whatever it is, I want it.
My stomach grumbles in agreement as I walk into Leon’s kitchen, the magical notes of rosemary and garlic hitting my senses.
“My mom and dad have arrived for Sunday dinner. They’re in the living room,” Leon informs me, throwing me off balance as he calmly takes a sip of his wine.
“What?” I look around, startled and utterly unprepared for visitors. “Why?”
“Because we usually do this on Sunday, but they’re off on vacation tomorrow, so we moved it to Friday instead.”
“Here? Now?” I don’t know why I’m asking; I already know his parents come here every week for dinner.
“Yes.”
Leon’s mom is British, and he is skilled at cooking a traditional roast dinner, which his mom taught him.
“Leon, I don’t want to see them.” Panic overtakes me. Shame feels more accurate.
“Why not?”
“You know why,” I shrill, running my hands frantically through my hair. They are the first guests I will have seen since the disastrous non-wedding.
