Colt freezes instantly as tears threaten to leak from my eyes.
What the fuck, Zoey. What are you doing?!
"Hey."
Colt's hand flies to my face, lifting my chin until I have to look at him.
"Hey.Hey, look at me. Look at me, baby. Are you okay? Did I—"
"No."
I'm laughing now, but the tears are coming faster, hot and embarrassing and absolutelynot stopping.
"No, you didn't do anything, I just…oh my God. Oh my God, I'm so sorry—"
"Don't apologize. Don'teverapologize." His thumb sweeps across my cheek, catching a tear. "Talk to me. What's happening right now?"
I press my forehead against his chest, and his arms come around me immediately.
"I don't know! It's beenso long, Colt." I take a breath, but it's not helpful. "It's been years since anyone touched me. And… and maybe… maybe I forgot what it felt like to be wanted. Likethis.And I just—"
I sob again, and then I'm laughing… then I feel so ridiculous that I start sobbing all over again. Somewhere in the middle ofthe mess I'm making, I manage to gesture vaguely toward his open jeans and he tucks himself away.
"And of course this is happening in alocker room.Ofcourseit is. With my hand in your pants and your captain's whiteboard ten feet away."
I shoot up out of his stall, starting to pace back and forth. Because that will make me look less crazy right now.
"I'm agrown woman, Colt. I'm thirty-four. I cannot be doing this here. Oh my God, Gabe wasliterally just sitting there."
A laugh rumbles out of Colt's chest, and after he zips up his pants, he gathers me closer and just holds me tight.
"Yeah. About that." His chin rests on the top of my head. "This room… now you mention it… itdoessmell like Gabe's jockstrap."
I laugh-sob into his sweater.
"Colt."
"I'm just saying. When we redo this, we should pick somewhere that doesn't smell like a giant Canadian's compression shorts."
He's grinning now, I can hear it in his voice.
"Colt.I swear to god if you don't stop talking right now…"
He tucks me under his chin and rocks me gently, his hand stroking up and down my back over my sweater.
I cry into his chest for a long minute. Not because anything is wrong. But because everything, for the first time in so long, feelsright.
When I finally pull back, my mascara is undoubtedly halfway down my face, my nose is running, and I am the least sexy version of myself that has ever existed.
Yet Colt is standing there, looking at me like I just walked out of a Hollywood movie set.
"There she is." His thumb brushes another tear from my cheek. "You okay?"
"I think so."
He cups my face in both hands and presses his forehead to mine.
"We don't need to do this now. We can do it whenever you're ready, Zo. I'm not going anywhere." His voice lands like a vow. "You know that, right? I'm not going anywhere."
