She threaded her fingertips through the edge of the bedspread. “Well, yeah.”
“Heather, I’ve done the forever shit. It’s a lie. Had the picket fence. Had the dog. Wanted the kids. It doesn’t work out.” Because a wife eventually leaves and takes the dog with her. He couldn’t open himself up to that. Not again.
Heather continued to look at him as though they were discussing the cumulus clouds in the sky and not his failed marriage. “Did it ever occur to you that maybe it didn’t work out because you were with the wrong person?”
Every goddamned day.
He smashed his lips together. He did not want to talk about this.
“I like you, Jase. Maybe we should try this thing? Be open to us not ending. To us seeing where it goes. If it doesn’t work out, it doesn’t work out. But maybe we could try. Maybe it’d be good for both of us…”
“Maybe we could try.” He echoed her words, but his were filled with frustration. How the hell was he supposed to try?
Elbows on his knees, he dropped his head to his hands.
Her hand came to his back and rubbed a particularly tense spot between his shoulder blades. “We don’t have to. I won’t be mad.”
He glanced to her then. The loneliness in her eyes took his breath. No, she wouldn’t be mad, just disappointed—and that was worse.
“Heather, I’m not good at the long-term gig. I’m just not.” She had to understand that.
“I’m not asking you to be. I’m just asking that we both go into this without expecting it to end quickly. Or at all.” She studied his blue bedspread.
“It’s better to go into a hookup with your eyes wide open,” he said.
“That’s what we’re doing, then? Just hooking up?”
“And hanging out.”
“Exclusively?” she asked.
“Well, yeah.”
“Jase?” she said. “That’s called a relationship.”
Noooooooo. Nope. It sure as hell wasn’t. Relationships meant dinners with family and waking up together. Two things he did not partake in. Although, he wouldn’t mind waking up next to Heather. If they spent any amount of time together, his family would be involved. Which meant…
Shit.
They were in the relationship zone.
“We could try,” she whispered.
This time her words weren’t frustrated. They were hopeful. God, how long had it been since he’d felt any kind of hope?
“Only if you’re ready.” She leaned into him, her tits pressed into his back.
Fuck, no, he wasn’t ready.
But she wasn’t asking for promises, just hope.
His dick twitched, ready to come out andtry. The disloyal bastard.
He could go into this thing they had going without looking toward an ending. It’d be hard as all fuck, but he could manage. His blood pressure skipped. He was going to do this. Really going to give it the effort.
With an exaggerated, resigned breath, he turned to her, caught her mouth with his. She wrapped her arms around his neck.
“You,” he practically growled. “Make. Me. Crazy.” He punctuated each word with a kiss against the skin of her neck.
