I’d avoided relationships my whole life after watching my mom’s heart break when we lost my dad, and every friend who’d ever been through a shit breakup or a devastating divorce had just cemented the fact in my mind: relationships were complicated, and got fucked up, and ended in disaster and heartbreak, always.
But somehow… I’d found myself smack in the middle of one anyway. And with every scared, hurtful word that fell out of my mouth,Iwas the one making it complicated.Iwas the one fucking it up.Iwas the one breaking my own heart… and Hawk’s… in some misguided attempt to protect us.
Hadn’t I told Hawk just the other day, during our last disastrous discussion about the Aerie Resort, that he couldn’t keep things the way they were indefinitely because he was scared something bad could happen?
Maybe it was time I took my own damn advice.
After I cleaned myself off, I waited for Hawk to say something, but he remained silent as his breathing evened out.
I couldn’t blame him. He’d put himself out theretwice, and I’d shot him down. No wonder he didn’t have anything to say to me. No wonder he wanted his privacy.
By the time I got up the nerve to flip on the lantern and open the tent to talk to him, he was snoring lightly with only his messy curls poking out of the top of his sleeping bag.
I sat there for a few minutes, looking at Hawk’s face relaxed in sleep. He was so sexy, so beautiful, so mind-blowinglyminemy breath froze in my lungs from the shock of it.
“I want you,” I breathed, feeling my chest loosen just from admitting the words out loud, even though he wasn’t awake to hear them. “More than anything.”
How could I have him without disappointing him? I wasn’t Fitzwilliam Darcy with ten thousand pounds a year and a giantfancy estate. I was a multi-thousandaire on a good month, struggling to save for retirement while making payroll.
I was no broody Prince Charming, capable of sitting around all day making dreamy eyes at Hawk from across a crowded room. I was a chronic workaholic and serial overthinker.
And I wasn’t some noble guy with a brain full of heartfelt, sentimental words and grand gestures. I was… apple grilled cheese, snarky comments, and sweaty hikes.
I didn’t know if that—me—was enough.
I leaned over and pressed a kiss to his curls.
“Love you,” I breathed into the woodsy scent of him. “So much.”
Without giving myself a chance to overthink it for once, I hauled my sleeping bag into the tent, zipped the door closed, and turned off the lantern before moving close to Hawk. We’d spent many nights sharing each other’s warmth like this in his tent, and I wasn’t about to stop now.
Especially when I had important things to say to him first thing in the morning.
I woketo the sound of a muffled gasp and felt my lips turn up instinctively when I remembered who I was sleeping next to… and why. My stomach was full of knots, but my heart was full of hope.
“Hey,” I said, rolling over. Hawk’s brown eyes were huge in the dim light coming through the cave opening and kept winging from me to the tent door and back, like he was trying to figure out how he felt about seeing me lying next to him. “Can we… talk?”
Hawk’s eyes widened even more, wary now. “Talk?” he repeated, voice rough with sleep.
I reached out to push a rogue curl off his forehead with the tip of my finger. His skin was sleep-warm and soft. So touchable I wasn’t sure how I’d gone this long without putting my hands on him. I let my finger trail down the side of his face, tracing the arch of his eyebrow and the curve of his cheekbone.
Hawk’s whole body froze, and he squeezed his eyes shut. “Damn it all,” he said mournfully.
I traced the curve of his jaw over the roughness of his beard. “What’s wrong?”
He sighed and squeezed his eyes shut. “Another fucking dream,” he muttered to himself. “I should have known. But this one feels so lifelike.” He opened his eyes and shot me a glare. “FYI, therealyou has a lot to answer for, Jack Wyatt. I’m losing my mind, and it’s your fault.”
The idea that he’d been dreaming of me the way I’d been dreaming of him warmed me. I tapped his nose ring gently. “This isn’t a dream, Bird.”
He swallowed. “That’s exactly what you say in the dreams. And then I wake up, andpoof.”
My heart twisted a little with the pleasure-pain of his admission. “I’m so sorry,” I whispered.
He looked momentarily confused, like even in his dreams, he couldn’t imagine me saying that.
“For… barging into my tent uninvited?”
“No.” I moved a little closer to him and ran my fingers through his hair. “Maybe I should be, but I’m not even a little bit sorry for that. I’m sorry because I said no when you made me an incredible offer of yourself. And I’d like…” The air around us seemed more difficult to gather into my lungs properly. “I’d very much like to change my answer.”
