Yeah, that was more honest.
I was starting to realize Jacks didn’t say things he didn’t mean.
“Stay,” I said. “I mean, not likethat. I’m not ready for . . . just . . . stay? I don’t want to be alone right now.”
His smile softened. “Okay.”
“Okay?”
“Okay.”
He kissed me again, soft and sweet, and I let myself sink into it, let myself feel everything I’d been running from for weeks—maybe years, maybe my whole life.
I didn’t have any answers.
Hell, I barely knew what questions to ask.
I didn’t know what this made me, or what it meant for my career, or how the guys would respond. I didn’t know how I was supposed to navigate any of what came next. I didn’t even know what might come next.
But for the first time in as long as I could remember, I wasn’t fighting.
I was letting myself want what I wanted.
And everything—as Erik had promised—suddenly felt a little simpler.
Chapter 19
Jacks
Iwas floating. That was the only word for it. My feet touched the ground, and I was aware of pavement beneath my shoes, as I walked from my car to the Barbacks back entrance, but the rest of me existed somewhere three feet above my own body, suspended in a state of blissful disbelief.
Skyler Shaw had kissed me.
Skyler Shaw had kissed me.
Skyler fucking Shaw had kissed me!
The words kept looping through my brain, each repetition sending a fresh wave of nausea and elation in equal measure through my nervous system. I replayed the moment ten thousand times during the drive to work: the way he’d walked toward me, slow and terrified, the way my back hit the wall, the way his fingers brushed the curls from my forehead with such deliberate intention.
And then his lips.
Oh, holy God Almighty.
His lips on mine.
Soft and hesitant and perfect.
I touched my mouth without thinking, like I could still feel him there.
Get it together, Armstrong,I chided.
I had a shift to work, customers to serve, and a whole evening of acting normal ahead of me.
I could do this. I was a professional.
I pushed through the back door and into the familiar chaos of pre-opening prep. The kitchen smelled like Rod’s famous slider seasoning, and I could hear Benji somewhere in the front, probably rearranging bottles into some elaborate new configuration that would annoy Finn within the hour.
Everything was normal.
