“Hi honey, everything okay?” she asks when she opens the door, concern written on her face. I get it, normally I wouldn’t bother her when I’m home unless it was an emergency.
“Yeah, everything’s fine, but would you mind coming to the main house for a few hours? I just got a text that some of the guys are getting together at one of their houses to watch some game footage. I figure it would be good to keep building relationships with them.” The lie rolls off my tongue far too easily, and I inwardly wince. But I’ve got to do this. I can’t keep going, wondering if I’m crazy, imagining the want in Willow’s eyes, the longing that matches my own.
“No problem, I’ll be right over.” Mom’s smile and easy answer doesn’t ease my guilt. She’s never hesitated to help anytime I’ve asked. Granted, this is the first time I’ve asked her to babysit so I could go see a woman. Normally, I’d keep these sorts of things to away games, one night with a random woman I don’t have to see again. And even that was infrequent.
But twenty minutes later, I’m cruising down the street to Willow’s apartment building. It’s started to rain outside, but even the rhythmic sound of my windshield wipers can’t dull my anticipation or my nerves. When I pull into a visitor parking stall, I open my text messages and my thumb hovers as I try to figure out what to say. How to get her to agree to see me.
In the end, I opt for being direct. Getting out of my car, I walk up to the front door and send her a text.
RONAN: I’m outside. Will you let me in so we can talk?
The text bubbles pop up immediately, which I hope is a good sign. But it takes forever before a reply shows up.
WILLOW: Buzzer 4052, Unit 414
Moments later, the elevator opens and I find her apartment. My hand raps on the door, three firm knocks, and when it opens, she’s there.
Wearing sleep shorts and a tank top, her hair is cascading over her shoulders. Her face is clear of makeup, but her expression is back to being guarded, and it physically hurts not to reach out and cup her face, to smooth away the worry with my thumb and my lips.
“Thanks for letting me up,” I murmur, earning the briefest of nods, yet she doesn’t move to let me in. The hallway is deserted, but this isn’t exactly where I want to be having this conversation. I’m not about to be picky. I know I’ve already pushed her out of her comfort zone just by coming over and insisting we talk. If things go well, she might invite me in. If they don’t, then I guess I’ll be riding that elevator back down to my car a lot sooner than I want to. I study her for a minute, because even though I thought about what to say the entire drive here, I can’t decide how to start.
But as soon as I open my mouth, it just comes pouring out.
“You keep saying you can’t date me. That we can’t be together. And I hear you; I’ve respected that as best I can, even though it’s fucking torture being near you and not having you. Here’s the thing, Cherry. I want, no I need, to know if it’s acan’tor adon’t want to.” I chance a step closer, but still keep enough distance so she doesn’t feel crowded. “When I asked you that at the park, I told you it mattered, and here’s why. I think you’ve been told youcan’tdate someone like me. I think something or someone convinced you that being with a baseball player is somehow the worst possible idea. And I want to figure out who or what did that, so then I can figure out how to convince you that you’re wrong. But only if you say it’s acan’t, and not adon’t want to.”
She visibly swallows as her luminous eyes lift to meet mine. Taking one more step, I slowly raise my hand to rest it on her hip, waiting to see if she’ll pull back. She doesn’t; if anything, she leans into my touch. Following the cues of her body, I lower my head and run my nose up the column of her neck. When I feel her shiver underneath my hand, my lips crease into a small smile. She might not be able to find the words to say she wants this, but her responses tell me clear enough.
“If it’s truly adon’t want to, then I’ll walk away right now and you’ll never have to feel my hands on you again.” Taking a risk, I drop a kiss to her soft skin, relishing the gasp I hear from her. “You’ll never have to feel my kiss again.”
Her pulse jumps under my lips, and I kiss her a second time. Then, even though it pains me to do so, I lift my head and step back, the only contact remaining between us being my hand on her hip.
Your move, Cherry.
Her eyes flutter open, and the heat in them is obvious. But so is the hesitation. I drop my hand and take another step back.
“Wait —” She reaches for my hand, chewing on her lower lip.
“I don’t want to force you into anything you’re not ready for,” I say, my voice gravelly. “You know where I stand. When you’re ready to tell me what’s in that beautiful head of yours, I’ll be here.”
“It’s not that I don’t want you,” she whispers, tugging me closer. “If anything, it’s because I want youtoo much.It scares me how much I want you.”
Thank fuck.I can work with that. Placing my hands back on her hips, I step in close. “Don’t be scared. We’re in this together. You jump, I jump.”
A short burst of laughter escapes her, and I know the cheesy line was exactly what was needed.
“Did you just quoteTitanic?”
I smirk. “Did it work?”
Her answering smile is blinding as she loops her arms around my neck, nodding.
Then, finally, after months of agony from being close to her, and even longer since I last kissed her, I feel her lips on mine again.
Chapter twenty-three
Willow
We fall into my apartment, a whirlwind of clothes flying everywhere. Ronan has me spun around and pushed up against my door that he somehow managed to close, my leg around his waist before I regain some of my senses.
