Page 34 of Golden Ruin

“Smart man.”

His smile grows, and I clutch my flowers a little tighter.

“I’m glad you stopped by.” I mean every word as I hold his gaze.

“I’m glad you were okay with it. Couldn’t let another day pass without seeing you.”

His transparency is something I’ll have to get used to after being friends so long, but… I don’t hate it.

I slide a look toward the living room where Sterling and Jax are already deep into a race, then I lock eyes with Matt again. When I hug him this time, it’s softer than before. Less tense and more heartfelt.

When we separate, Matt’s staring at the flowers. “Whenever you’re ready, I’d still like to take you on that date.”

More butterflies, more of my heart racing.

“I’d like that, too.”

He pushes a strand of hair behind my ear, letting his fingers graze the side of my neck before pulling away.

“Goodnight.”

I bite the side of my lip, already looking forward to the next time I’ll get to see him. “Night.”

I linger at the door a few seconds after closing it, still feeling so many things. Jax’s laughter booms, and the sound of it snaps me out of my daze.

When I turn, I can’t help but to smile, seeing him standing on the sofa, resting his full weight against Sterling’s shoulder as they go head-to-head, having the time of their lives. I walk that way, hesitant to interrupt, but I don’t have much choice.

“Excuse me.”

Sterling turns toward me as Jax lets out a highly disappointed, “Awww,” over having to pause the game.

Sterling and I lock eyes. “What’s up?” He’s being polite, but something still feels… off.

I point at the roses. “Got a vase?”

His eyes shift there now, to the flowers, and I can’t explain the urge I suddenly feel to lower them.

“Uh… not a vase, but I think I have a pitcher that might work.” He stands, and I try to stop him.

“I don’t want to interrupt. I can find it. I just–”

“You’re fine. I don’t think you can reach it anyway.”

He leads the way, and I follow. The kitchen is dark other than the dim light over the stove. I rest against the edge of the counter, and he searches a few cabinets before pulling down a large glass pitcher that seems to be the perfect size.

“Will this work?”

I nod. “It should. Thank you.”

He hands it over, and I fall silent as I move to the sink, setting the flowers on the counters as I turn on the faucet.

I expect him to leave, to go back to playing with Jax, but he doesn’t. Instead, he lingers, crossing his arms over his chest as he rests against the island, watching me fill the pitcher.

I glance toward him but can’t seem to make myself meet his gaze. Instead, I lock in on the colorful ink on his arms, tattoos I’ve watched him add to over the years until they became full sleeves.

“Have a nice visit?” he asks, and I’m trying to read his tone. It’s calm and unassuming, but I sense something else buried just beneath the surface.

“I did,” I say back. “He brought a card from my coworkers, so that was nice.”