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The weight of her body was warm, and she smelled sweet and clean. Briefly, I closed my eyes at the tumult happening in my stomach, my heart, and my chest. Wave after wave after wave, and it didn’t go away, just crashed harder and harder on the surface.
“You’re hugging me,” I said quietly, even as my arm naturally slid down her back and anchored her close to my chest.
My person was hugging me, and with every ounce of ruthlessness I could muster, I wrenched aside the thought that it didn’t feel the way a hug from a friend should feel. Inside my head, I tried to slam down a thick metal wall—tall and black and impenetrable—against thoughts like that. Maybe if I built up a big enough barrier, I could pretend they didn’t exist.
“You looked like you needed it.” She sucked in a big breath and didn’t move. The wall in my head trembled. I didn’t want her to move, and I wanted to shove her away from me with both hands. “I hate when you don’t see yourself for who you really are, Ian Wilder. You may not be the easiest to get to know, but you are the best man I have ever met in my life.”
My skin felt too tight, the throbbing beat of my heart too loud, and the two overwhelming sensations pushed against each other like the wrong side of a magnet. One would win out, and I knew what it would be.
The feelings crested until my ribs squeezed, and after a few stops and starts, my heart managed to stumble into a stuttering rhythm.
“Best is a big word, sparky,” I said quietly, making sure my lips didn’t brush her hair as I spoke.
“It’s the right one, too.” She exhaled slowly, tightening her arms ever so slightly. “Thank you for everything you’ve done for me and Sage. I don’t think I’ve said it enough. Today was … amazing. She was so happy out there.”
Words danced on the tip of my tongue, wanting desperately to downplay what she was saying. It would’ve been easy to say that I did for them what I would’ve done for anyone in my life, but in the back of my head, I knew it wasn’t the truth.
I’d do more for her. I’d always done more for her.
The reasons weren’t always clear, except even as a kid, I knew it made me feel good. It made me feel competent and strong and like the best version of myself. Her trust in me might be the thing I was proudest of. After all these years, I wasn’t sure why I deserved it anymore, but it was still there. One of the cornerstones of my life was Harlow Keaton’s trust in me, and as I stood there holding her, I knew I’d do anything to keep it.
I kept all those thoughts locked up, though. It was safer that way because they were too big, too scary to say out loud.
So all I said was, “You’re welcome.” This time, I tilted my chin, and my lips brushed the silky strands of her hair. Harlow shivered slightly but didn’t move.
Normally, I would pull back by now. She would have, too.
But we stayed like that, and I glanced up at the lingering gold in the sky left from the setting sun, breathed in the scent from her soft hair, and reminded myself that it was just a hug, and it didn’t mean anything. The big, black wall in my head stood firm, and I let the moment be what it was.
Chapter 19
Ian
“I swear, if the three of you don’t stop staring at me,” I warned. My finger squeezed the trigger of the nail gun, a quick pop pop pop of nails going through the piece of framing I was putting up.
“Who’s staring?” Cameron asked.
I paused, focusing my breathing as I studied the next piece. After wedging it into place, I hit that piece with the nail gun too, then set the tool down on the subfloor. When I stood and turned, Cameron, my sister Greer, and our longtime foreman Wade were at the table holding the plans … staring.
Slicking my tongue over my teeth, I crossed my arms and raised my eyebrows. “You were saying?”
Greer raised her hand. “I’ll admit it. I’m staring.”
Wade scratched the side of his grizzled face with dirt-stained fingers and cleared his throat. “I wasn’t.”
“Yeah, fucking right,” I muttered, striding past them to go cut another couple of pieces. “Don’t you have something else to do? Like work on this house?”
Greer snorted. “We get it. You’re in one of your grumpy-cat moods.”
I stopped. “My what?”
Cameron smothered a grin, and I imagined punching him in the balls.
Greer started cleaning up papers and tucking them into her manila folder. “You know those grumpy cats you see in the memes and stuff? Every once in a while, you walk around looking like one of them, and it’s usually because you’re all up in your feelings, and you don’t want to talk about it.”
“I’m in a great mood. What are you talking about?”
What bullshit. I’d been snapping at people all day, but I didn’t particularly feel like admitting that to any of them, not with the staring and the conjecture. It was only a matter of time before Greer started in on me.
