Beating for a woman whose future didn’t have a place for him in it.
“You don’t have to decide right now,” he said. “That’s what Desjardins said, right?”
“Yes.” She hesitated. “But I wanted you to know.”
That hit harder than the promotion.
I wanted you to know.
He pushed off the table and crossed the space between them before he could overthink it. Stopped just short of touching her. He didn’t trust his hands yet.
“I’m glad you told me,” he said quietly. “I’d have been pissed if I found out some other way.”
A ghost of a smile touched her mouth. “Hmm, a pissed off Kelly Gatlin. That’s almost too delicious to resist, goading you. It would be really fun to make it up to you.”
He laughed softly, finding nothing but joy in this woman’s sassy teasing. “The IOU’s are stacking up, lady. You already owe me for breakfast.” His mouth curved, then stilled. “This is… good. For you.”
She searched his face, her own expression softening with a fragile, unmistakable hope. “But?”
There it was. The opening. The moment where he could say it. The words crowded his throat, hot and dangerous and alive. I love you.
They scared the hell out of him.
He dragged a hand through his hair, exhaled slowly. “But it complicates things,” he admitted. “I’m already…more invested than I planned to be.”
Her breath caught. Just a little. He saw it. Missed nothing.
“So are you,” he added, softer.
She didn’t deny it.
He stepped closer this time, close enough to feel her warmth, to smell her shampoo, to feel the pull that had been wrecking his discipline since the first time she’d looked at him like she saw him.
“I don’t know how to want you halfway,” he said, the words rough, scraped straight from his chest. “I don’t know how to do this carefully. I just know I want…more. Of you. Of this.”
Her hand came up, resting lightly against his chest, right over his heart. He felt the contact like a live wire.
“Kelly—”
He shook his head once, gentle but firm. “I’m not asking you to choose. Not now. Not ever.” A beat. “I just need you to know where I stand.”
Her thumb brushed against his sternum, a grounding touch. “Where do you stand?”
He held her gaze. Let himself be seen. “Right here,” he said. “With you. Even if I don’t know what that looks like yet.”
Something in her eyes softened, went bright and wet at the same time. She leaned in, resting her forehead against his, breathing him in.
“Thank you,” she whispered.
He huffed a quiet breath. “Don’t give me too much credit. I’m doing my best not to fuck this up.”
That earned him a small, shaky laugh. She kissed him then, thoroughly, and it loosened some of that tight knot.
When she pulled back, he caught her hand, holding it for a beat longer than necessary.
“Whatever happens,” he said, voice low and steady now, “You changed my life, Blair. I’m never going to look at it the same, and that guy in the mirror thanks you, too.”
She squeezed his fingers. “I know.”
