His eyes hold me hostage and my heart accelerates behind my ribcage.
I don’t want to believe him. It’seasiernot to. But the truth is there in his eyes.
Fisher Grant never stopped loving me. That much I’m certain of.
CHAPTER 26
FISHER
“It wasn’t just a one-night offer.”I glance behind me from the couch to find Ebba in the doorway of her bedroom. She nods her head to the space behind her. “Come on. I promise not to cuddle you. I’m capable of keeping my hands to myself.” She flexes her manicured fingers.
I have to fight not to grin like a fucking idiot. She doesn’t realize that I was very much aware of the way she scooted closer to my body in the night until she was fully wrapped around me.
Best sleep I’ve had in a long time.
“Maybe I don’t want you to keep your hands to yourself.”
She levels me with an amused look and shakes her head. “Don’t make me change my mind.”
I mime zipping my lips and follow her into her room. The smell of her lotion—something warm and sweet like vanilla tinged with something else I can’t quite pinpoint—permeates the air.
With a yawn, she pulls back the covers on her side of the bed and slips beneath them before reaching for the remote and turning the TV on.
“Do you care if I watch TV?” she asks.
“You know I don’t mind.” I loop my thumbs into the back of my shirt and yank it off my head, dropping it onto the floor.
I find Ebba’s eyes tracing my torso. I might not play professionally anymore—and my career was incredibly short-lived anyway—but I run a lot and lift weights and still play the occasional tennis match with Noah for fun, so I know I’m not out of shape.
If she keeps looking at me like this, though, I’m going to get hard, and she’ll probably kick me out of her room.
That night in Vegas was years of pent-up, suppressed emotions coming to a head for her, and I don’t expect it to happen again anytime soon.
“Put your shirt back on,” she gripes and clasps her hands together beneath her head.
“You know I sleep hot,” I say defensively.
She bites her lip, still looking at me. I scratch my stomach and her eyes track the movement of my fingers before they drop lower following the trail of hair beneath my belly button that disappears into my sleep pants. Normally, I’d take those off too, but I’m not trying to piss her off.
“Fine.” She flicks her fingers over to the empty space of her bed. “Stop standing there staring at me. It’s weird.”
I grin as I go around the side of her bed and climb beneath her sheets. They’re silky soft and the smell of her is even stronger as I pull the sheets up to my chin. I inhale that scent like a fucking creep.
I’m never getting my fill of Ebba and if she decides after all this is said and done, that she never wants to see me again then I’m fucking screwed because there’s no one else on this planet that will ever stir the feelings in me that she does.
I’ve almost dozed off to sleep—her reality show about a crew on a private yacht not doing anything to hold my attention like itdoes hers—when she turns the TV off and she speaks so softly, I almost think she might not want me to actually hear her.
“Do you think if we hadn’t lost the baby, we’d still be together?”
I don’t even have to think about my answer. “Yes.”
Her breath hitches and a moment later her shoulders shake with silent sobs.
Fuck.
“C’mere, baby.” I reach for her, and she shockingly rolls over so she’s facing me. Tucking her head beneath my chin, she cries and lets me hold her. Her tears are cool against the skin of my throat, but I don’t care. She needs to let this out.
We’ve both spent too much time burying emotions that shouldn’t have been shoved down anyway.
