“They’re fine. Emily has been trying to boss her brothers around, but they’re having none of it. No one will mess with her when she grows up and starts dating.”
“Ugh, no, Mom. My little girl will never date. Ever.”
She laughs lightly. “You can stop it as much as breathing. Besides, she has two big brothers who will always protect their little sister.”
I’m sure they would.
When I see headlights shining through my curtains, I stand, walk to the window, and draw back the curtain. My stomach dips happily when I see Calvin pull into the driveway.
He’s home. Finally.
“Gotta go, Mom. I have someone to see. Kiss the kids for me.”
Before she can respond, I hang up, rush to the front door, and run out toward Calvin’s house. Braeden is already inside, but before Calvin follows him, he stops and turns around as if sensing that I need him. He doesn’t hesitate as he walks toward me. When we meet, he envelops me in a fierce hug.
“I’ve got you,” he whispers, pulling out all my earlier pain. I let it all out into his chest as he holds me.
He smells of old cologne and exhaustion, bringing out his human side, not that he isn’t human, but it’s a reminder that we aren’t perfect. No matter how hard he tries to come across as put-together, he’s not always. It makes him more relatable. It also wakes me up about my growing feelings for Calvin. I want him. I want him to always hold me like this when I break because I know he would. But we can’t. He doesn’t want to date anyone, and he’s got his own problems. I have to accept that we’re simply friends.
He doesn’t say a word as he keeps holding me like a promise never to let go. I inhale him, soaking in his warmth and comfort. He’s strong and solid, and exactly what I need right now. His silence is everything, as much as him holding me.
It’s been so damn long since I’ve been hugged like this. For years, I’ve been running around, taking care of the kids, struggling to focus on myself after Malcolm left. Dating again was a way for me to give myself a little treat for my hard work, but it turned into an utter failure.
Once I get my shit together, I pull away, grab a used tissue in my pocket, and blow my nose. Still holding the gross tissue, I wrap my arms around myself and stare at my feet, feeling suddenly stupid, needy, and clingy. Men are always made to feel weak when they cry. I know it’s not true, but you can’t help but form an image of yourself as such because it’s so ingrained into your soul.
“Sorry,” I mutter.
He lifts my chin with his fingers and stares deeply into my eyes. He looks so tired, and now the guilt is taking over. “Don’t do that. Don’t pull away. You’re allowed to feel what you do without apologies. There’s nothing to be sorry for.”
When he lets go, I kick at the grass. “You’ve had a hard time, too, and I’m making this all about me.”
“We already talked about this, Tiger. Life doesn’t stop moving. You’ve had a massive scare. Don’t diminish that. It doesn’t take away from what Braeden and I are going through, either. You can lean on me anytime. I may not be in the best spot mentally, but I can hold us both up for now. I know you’d do the same in return. Hell, youhavedone the same for me. This is the least I can do, but I also want to.”
“I would definitely do the same.”
Who knew the real Calvin, underneath all that bluster and unseriousness from when we first met, is a sweet, kind guy.
He takes my hand, threads our fingers together, and tugs me toward his house. His hand in mine feels right.
“Are your kids still at your parents’?”
“Yeah.”
Braeden hasn’t turned on any lights after they got home, so Calvin, while still holding my hand, leads me from the entryway to his kitchen, flipping on the lights as he goes.
“How’s he doing?” I ask.
“He’s struggling, but he’s okay, I think. The kid doesn’t talk much, so it’s hard to get a feel of what’s going on in that head of his. He tends to wear his emotions on his face, so it’s clear he’s hurting.”
I sit down at the kitchen island and smooth my hands over the cold quartz surface, while Calvin rummages in his refrigerator. “You hungry?” he asks.
“Not really?”
“Yeah, me neither.”
He stands straight, shuts the fridge door, and holds up a bottle of chilled white wine. “How about some Sauvignon?”
“That sounds great, actually.”
