“It’s fine, Demi.” He nods toward the couch along his wall for me to sit. “Have a seat.”
I do as he directs and he follows me, positioning himself opposite me. His familiar scent of leather and a woodsy spice hits my nose and promptly makes its way straight to my core. I’m pretty sure there’s a hint of jasmine in there as well. It’s making my head spin.
“I’m sorry it took me so long to respond to your text,” I say quietly. I’m not sure how this is supposed to go. “I was okay, but I needed time to think.”
He nods. “As long as you were–are–okay, that’s all I care about.”
I clear my throat. My heart is pounding as I try to form coherent thoughts. “For the sake of transparency, I should tell you… Iwasokay. I’m not so sure I stillam.”
Worry washes over his face as he waits for me to continue.
“I–uh… I don’t know how to say this without making things more confusing,” I tell him not so confidently.
He leans into me, reaching out for my hand. Without even the tiniest bit of thought, I give it to him. Damnit, what is it with everyone and all the hand holding lately?
His touch makes my heart flutter and force a deep centering breath so I’m better equipped to ignore whatever it is he has me feeling, or at least shove it down, burying it deep where it’ll be lost forever. It’s what any logical and sane person would do in my situation.
“Whatever it is, just tell me, Demi. It can’t be that bad. Even if it is, we should talk about it so we can fix it.”
Okay. Why does he have to be so perfect about this? He doesn’t even know what I’m about to say? This understanding and caring side of him is fucking irritating right now. At least if he were a dick…
“I need you to hear me out, Hayes.” He nods, squeezing my hand for extra reassurance. I glance down at our entangled fingers. His hand engulfs mine andI’ve never considered myself to be a hand girlie but everything about the muscles and veins in his is doing it for me.
Get your shit together, Demi.
“I think you’re still in love with your wife and she’s still in love with you.”
“Demi–”
I raise my free hand to stop him from denying it. “Hayes… it’s fucking obvious just in the way you look at each other. Anyone with eyes can see it. What happened twenty years ago?”
He pulls his hand away and crosses his arms defensively. “It’s complicated.”
“Don’t give me that complicated bullshit,” I scoff. “You told me about the accident, but I also know the way you talked about her that morning at the diner. Those weren’t the words of someone that stopped loving his wife. Tell me what happened. Ineedto know.”
“Why? Why do you need to know so badly?” he asks, brows furrowed like it’s paining him just to talk about this.
“Because–” I can’t stop myself from hesitating. This is a risk. Telling him the truth is going to change things between us. But I can’t expect honesty from him if I’m not willing to give it. “I have feelings for you. And I’m also pretty confident I still have feelings for Raegan. I guess you didn’t fuck me hard enough the night of the wedding to get her out of my system after all.”
His head tilts slightly to the side as he glares at me with just his peripheral vision. It’s also possible he just growled. That’s… not helping.
“Not funny,” he chastises. “You and I both know what I did to you that night was life changing.”
He’s not lying. I’ve never wanted a man until he came along and what we did… was enough to make me consider switching teams. Untilshecame back and now I’m more confused than ever. Except I’m not.
“Sorry.” I chuckle softly. “Humor is my favorite way to deal with uncomfortable things. And this conversation really takes the uncomfortable cake.”
Hayes stands quickly and begins to pace his office, end to end. It’s not the biggest office I’ve ever seen, but it’s not small either. And he’s just got a deskwith some chairs and this couch occupying space, so he has plenty of room to wear out the carpet with his movement.
He’s across the room and staring at the wall when he says, “My mom died giving birth to me.”
Holy shit. I stand and begin to move slowly toward him, pausing after only a few steps. “Hayes–”
“My father blamed me for her death,” he continues, his voice more despondent with each word and my feet freeze in place while I wait for him to continue.
He spends the next fifteen minutes telling me how his father would scream and yell at him for every little thing growing up. How he’d use his hands to punish him for things that weren’t his fault or completely out of his control. How he’d use his mother’s death against him, telling him he’d never be able to keep a woman safe. How he couldn’t even save his own mother. And finally, how he heard his father’s voice in his head the night Raegan got hurt, when he panicked, knowing in his heart that leaving was the only way he could save her… from him.
Fucking hell.
