Not defensive. Not cocky. Shaken.
Anger flashes first, sharp and protective. Then hurt. Then something deeper that looks a lot like disappointment.
“When I first saw you in the locker room,” he says slowly, voice rough, “I did make a comment to your brother. I had no idea you were his sister.”
I swallow.
“When I found out,” he continues, dragging a hand through his hair, frustration tightening his jaw, “I drew a line I never intended to cross.”
His eyes lock on mine.
“When my father died, there was no escaping being around you. Coach. The league. Everyone said I needed to talk about it.” He huffs out a breath. “And there you were.”
His hand finds mine. Squeezes.
“I found comfort in someone I wasn’t supposed to,” he admits. “I found a connection that was undeniable.”
There’s something almost vulnerable about the way he says it.
Then that familiar, dangerous grin curves his mouth.
“I won’t lie and say I wasn’t attracted to you the second my eyes landed on you,” he says. “And I can’t deny that the closer we got, the more I wanted you physically.”
Heat flickers in my stomach despite the tears still clinging to my lashes.
He pulls me closer, his hands settling firmly at my waist, thumbs pressing into my sides as he searches my face.
“But if it was all just physical,” he says, eyes dark and steady, “I would’ve walked away. With a hard on, but I would’ve done it.”
A laugh escapes me through the tension, half incredulous, half relieved.
He doesn’t smile this time.
“But it was more than that,” he continues, quieter now. “It is more than that. It was a connection I couldn’t deny. You make me feel things I never knew were possible.”
His voice softens in a way that steals the air from my lungs.
“And I know without a doubt,” he says, staring straight into me, “looking at you right now that I love you.”
Everything inside me stills.
My heart stops.
My breath leaves me in a fragile exhale.
I’m frozen, caught in the depth of his eyes, the truth shining there without hesitation. There’s no performance. No bravado. Just Wilder. Completely exposed.
A tear slips free, sliding down my cheek.
He brushes it away gently with his thumb.
“I love you too, Wilder,” I whisper.
The words feel terrifying and right all at once.
His mouth is on mine before I can say anything else.
The kiss isn’t rushed or desperate.
