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I lean on the car, trying to be as suave as I can, which isn’t easy with this little sedan. “Are you worrying about me, Laney?”
Narrowing her eyes, her smile grows feline. “Is that surprising to you?”
My heart flutters. “I mean, yeah, a little, actually.”
Her mischievous expression softens. “What? Why?”
“Well, we haven’t been together in so many years and–”Crap. “Not that we’re togethernow.” Although I wish we were. “But–”
“Mase.”
Why is it that turning my name into one singular syllable makes me feel weak? Anyone could do it. But when it comes from Laney’s mouth, she might as well be saying “I love you”. Okay, that might be a bit dramatic, considering–
“I have always worried about you.”
I frown. “What do you mean?”
She laughs, then looks off in the distance.
There is wistfulness in her ocean blue eyes.
I adore her every micromovement as she attempts to conjure the right thing to say. “Things might have ended between us, but that doesn’t mean I didn’t worry about you.”
“Oh, Lane…”
Her gaze falls to the ground. “Doesn’t mean you weren’t always on my heart.”
I suck in a breath.
Every moment with Laney brings more questions. If I’m on her heart, what does that mean for us? Does that mean I always have a place there simply because at one point in our lives we loved each other?
Or does that mean that I have a place there because she wants to invite me closer? Deeper?
And what about Nate?
Speak of the devil, Nate whistles from the front porch. “Yo! Mase, help me with this, would you?”
I glance back at Laney who gives me a sheepish smile as if to say, “Later.” Or “Never.”
My biggest fear is we go back to New York and act like none of this ever happened so I’ll have to watch Laney be with Nate forever. Or worse, we both have to watch her leave us behind.
I go grab the final bag from Nate. It’s Laney’s, for all her physical therapy equipment. Not very heavy at all, considering Nate doesn’t need the intensive treatments he was getting back at the penthouse.
I glare at him. “Seriously? You couldn’t carry this?”
Nate wears a shit-eating grin. “Laney told me not to carry anything!”
That’s true. After the intensity of our hike yesterday combined with whatever happened on that blanket, Laney has been fussing over Nate’s strength.
I love it when she fusses. How her brows pinch together and her lips twist as she attempts to keep herself from saying something that might make her sound like a nagging mother.
And I’m not going to cross Laney just to give my friend shit for not carrying a light bag.
I start to carry it toward the car, but Nate stops me. “Mason–”
I raise an eyebrow as I look back at him.
Nate smiles. Meaningful. Earnest. “Thank you.”
