His mouth tightens.
“Ah.”
“In Spanish.”
“Worse.”
I laugh.
Then I lower my voice and tell him the part that matters.
“I told him I loved you.”
His whole body stills.
Every line of it.
Not cold.
Not shocked.
That deep, raw stillness again.
The one that happens when something gets all the way in.
I keep going, because I want him to know.
“I told him we waited. That we didn’t rush. That we tried to run from this and stopped.” My hand tightens in his hoodie. “I told him I’ve never been happier.”
The look in his eyes then?—
God.
No one should survive being looked at like that before nine a.m.
He reaches up and cups my jaw.
Very gently.
Like I’m something lit from within and he’s afraid to disrupt the flame.
“What did he say?”
I smile.
“He said there’s steel in his blood, and apparently I have it too.”
That gets a breath of laughter from him.
“Yeah,” he murmurs. “That sounds right.”
Then he leans down and kisses me.
Quick.
Careful.
Right there in the hallway outside Monday practice where anyone could technically walk out and see us.
