I hold up a hand, stopping her. “I already agreed to do this. I won’t back out. I’m your friend, Libby. And I will always be your friend.” Even if she’s never ready for anything more.
“Jordan.”
“Unless you don’t want me here, I’m staying. I’m your partner.” I keep my eyes on hers, willing her to feel my sincerity. I told Baylee that it didn’t matter what she said, and though this isn’t how I wanted things to turn out, I meant that.
Libby pushes out her bottom lip in a pout, not realizing how much it makes me want to kiss her. It’s alright. I’m strong. I’m a hockey player, for heaven’s sake. I can take it.
“Should we make some new rules?” she asks, our legs arestill touching as we sit beside each other on the edge of the bed. Should I pull away? Libby initiated this contact, and she isn’t moving away. I’m going to take what I can get.
I chuckle. “Would new rules help you feel better?”
She nods. “They would. I want to protect you too.”
“I don’t need protecting.”
She eyes me. “You’re still here, when I could end up hurting you. It seems like you do.”
I give a mock huff. “Okay, what’s the first new rule?”
“No kissing—not even in public. Like you said before, people will understand if we’re chill about our affection.”
“Probably for the best.” I hate this new rule. It’s the worst new rule. But she’s right that with my feelings out there now, things could get confusing for us really fast.
She clears her throat. “Also, if at any time, you need out of this, we will figure something out.” She nods, as though she’s making the decision official.
I will never want out. I just say, “Okay.”
We stare at each other for several more seconds before she stands and takes a step away from the bed. “Your turn to use the bathroom,” she says.
I follow suit, standing up as well, but before I go to my bag to grab clothes to change into, I say, “I’m sorry I didn’t know and you had to tell me all of that.”
She waves her hand at me, avoiding eye contact. “I should have talked to you about it before. We’re married.”
“It’s crazy I didn’t already know. And you don’t owe me that story,” I insist. “But I’m glad you trusted me enough to give it to me.”
She meets my gaze, the weight of my words bringing them up. “I do. Trust you enough.”
I smile, grab my duffel bag, and head for the bathroom.
Libby is under the blankets, holding a book, when I come out in running shorts and a T-shirt.
“I’m going to go for a run,” I tell her, sitting on the couch to slip on my tennis shoes.
She gapes at me. “It’s after ten o’clock. It’s late.”
“I’m a two-fifty-pound hockey player,” I remind her. “I’ll be fine.”
“Jord…”
She’s killing me.
I steel myself. It’s going to be like this for a while, holding back when I want to move our relationship forward, but I won’t let it change our friendship. I promised her I would be here for her, and I will be. She didn’t ask for me to admit my feelings and put us in this position. That’s all on me.
“I need the fresh air and some punishing physical activity. Otherwise I’m going to hop on a flight to hunt down Grayson Hollis, and the less you know, the better—you know, for plausible deniability.”
She presses her lips into a firm line. “He’s still in prison, and he will be for another ten years at least. Hopefully.”
I scowl. “Hopefully?”
