But I keep my voice level. “What changed?”
Her eyes search mine. “A rude, handsome cowboy stormed into my classroom and insulted me.”
My smile is self-deprecating. “Was the cowboy more rude or handsome?”
She lets go of my hand and brushes aside the hair that keeps falling into my eyes. The touch sends shivers cascading down my back.
“He was more smelly,” she says.
A laugh bursts out of me. “I promise I showered before coming down to meet you.”
“Yeah, I noticed. I’ve been actively trying not to sniff you since I got here.”
I laugh again. “Please, sniff away. My man musk is all yours if you want it.”
“I do. And I never thought I’d want that again. But you changed everything, Ryder.” My name on her lips is a sin. I crave to coax it out of her mouth again and again until it’s the only word she can breathe out. “You and your stupid backward baseball cap and your apology dances.”
“Wait, you think my scruffy cap is hot?”
“Real thirst trap,” she deadpans, perfectly straight-faced.
“You should’ve told me sooner; I would’ve brought it tonight.”
She gives my fringe another brush back. “I like your hair this way, too.”
I catch her hand before she pulls it away, pressing it against my chest where my heart is still racing. “You also like my hard questions?”
“I love that you’re asking them to me.”
“Aren’t you glad you sent me to therapy, and now I can talk about all my feelings?”
“I really am.” She draws her knees onto the dock. “I wish I were as good at dealing with my past. I’m carrying a lot of baggage. And I don’t know if I’m ready to unpack everything yet.”
I shift closer until our shoulders are touching. “Everyone’s got their history. Mine’s just more obvious because it has a name and asks for pancakes every Sunday. But I’m working on being better about letting people see the complicated parts. Dr. Agard says that being willing to show up as you are, messy parts included, is half the battle.”
“But you don’t talk about your past either. You never told me what happened with your ex, only that she left a note one day and disappeared. Now you’ve added that she was keeping stuff from you. But it’s not really an explanation.”
“The truth is that I don’t know.” I trace a line in my palm. “Abby kept up a front for the entire first year of Rhys’s life, maybe more. Whatever she was going through, she bottled it up while pretending everything was fine. She never shared anything with me until it became too much for her to handle and too late for me to fix it. And that’s what killed me, not that she was struggling, but that she felt like she couldn’t tell me. That she carried it alone.” I look at Faye, making sure she understands what I’m saying. “I don’t need perfect. I just need you to give it to me straight. I need to know when something is wrong, when you’re scared, when you’re struggling. I need us to talk to each other, not around each other. I don’t want any secrets.”
“I’m not Abigail. And I can’t imagine how lonely that must’ve been after she left. But I’m not her.”
“No, you aren’t. And I wasn’t alone. I had my family, and Rhys was there, drooling on every shirt I owned.”
She laughs, the sound watery. “He must’ve been so cute as a baby.”
“He was, still is. But he’s also a responsibility. I have to be smart about how I handle this. For his sake. Are you sure you’re okay dating a single father?”
“I adore Rhys, obviously,” she says without needing to think. “And I’m fine with taking things slow. My last relationship ruined my life, and yours left you with a baby to raise alone. Or was there someone else after Rhys’s mother?”
“Nothing that lasted more than a night.”
She grimaces and looks away.
I gently grab her chin and make her look at me again. “Are you jealous?”
“I have never been.” She picks up a pebble and throws it into the lake. “But this past month, even imagining you dancing with someone else has driven me through the roof.”
“Then all my future dances will be yours.”
