Page 116 of Thaw My Heart

Kit chuckles, choosing to stay in the kitchen—most likely because of his massive erection—while I plop down between Ryker and Blake. Ryker points to the screen, calling out his favorite players while he educates me on the game.

After a while, Kit comes over and stands quietly behind the couch. Bandit finds a spot next to him, curled up by his side, and Foxie is currently receiving ear rubs from Blake. No one can believe I’ve never seen a football game, but I didn’t grow up with a television, or at least one I was allowed to watch. My days were spent out in the pastures, watching horses graze and clouds drifting into shapes. The true country girl experience.

But I enjoy listening to Ryker and the passion he has for the game while he shoves pizza into his mouth. I’ve never seen someone eat pizza that way, as if it were his last meal on earth. I also enjoy Candace’s feisty comments back to him about who’s the best player, because they both have different opinions.

There’s even a moment when I think there could be something between them, but it’s subtle. Too subtle for me to tell how they truly feel about each other. Maybe it’s just friendship? Except when Blake snaps back at Ryker, something flares in her eyes, and I’m even more confused.

Wait, does she like Blake?

Kinley takes Candace’s side, shooting off fiery comments at Ryker that make me laugh. Hudson stays quiet, but he nods when appropriate, calling out quiet moves he thinks the players should make. We eat food and watch the game like one big family. There’s so much laughter and light in one room that I’m enveloped by it.

I’ve never felt safer or more loved in a room full of people I barely knew. People who barely knew me. But I feel accepted somehow, like they’re welcoming me into their tribe.

At half-time, the space on the couch shuffles down, and Kit sits next to me. “Hey,” he murmurs with a smile.

“Hey,” I reply.

His calloused hand finds mine, holding it in the fraction of space between us, playing with my fingers. Sadly, I don’t remember much of the game after that. This entire evening is like everything I’ve always dreamed of.

Friends, laughter, love… and yet, my mind is full of conflicting voices.

Warning signals roll down my spine, telling me to run, telling me to stay, telling me to fight for this because I want to trust him. I want to let him in. I’d be lying to myself if I didn’t admit I wanted more… but what if he sees the real me? Will he still want me when he finds out I’ve been lying to him this whole time? Keeping secrets about myself, about my past... about everything.

He’s already found my scars, but the real ones are buried inside my heart. I love what we have, but I need boundaries.

And he needs to understand them.

When the game finally ends, I’m a ball of anxiety and stress. Everyone leaves, giving me hugs, and I receive a swift handshake from Hudson. “This was nice. Thanks for having me,” Hudson says, but his eyes drop to my clenched fists, like he can sense my frustration.

He tries to say something else, but Blake pulls me in for a bear hug before he can speak. Followed by Ryker, who whispers in my ear.

“You remember what I said?” Ryker teases with a lopsided grin. “Big wedding,” he smirks, mouthing the words.

My heart plummets to the floor.

Ryker follows Blake out the door, and Kit closes it with a thud, turning to me as he lets out a deep exhale. “Fuck, I thought they’d never leave,” he smiles, stepping towards me with intention.

“I can’t marry you,” I blurt, nerves and anxiety built to a breaking point.

His eyes widen in shock before the hurt follows, crushing me as I knew it would. “…Alright,” he murmurs. “But you do realize I haven’t asked you,” a small smile forms in the corner of his mouth, trying to lighten the mood.

“And you can’t. Because I can’t.”

He blinks, stuck in my words. “Why?”

“I just—can’t,” I say firmly. “You need to know this… thing we have can only go so far.”

For me, it can only be this.

“This thing…” he repeats, closing the space. His rough hands find mine, fiddling with them for a moment. “And how far do you want it to go?”

My heart races at his closeness, at the feeling of the warmth of his body. The steady pressure of his hands. “This is it,” I murmur. “With me, this is it.”

He scans my face, stopping at my mouth, bringing his hand up to caress my jaw with his thumb. “You’re scared,” he says as a statement, rather than a question. “You’re scared that I’m going to hurt you.” A winter storm brews in his blue eyes. I can feel his anger, his frustration, and his pain.

Before I can answer, he grabs my hand and places it over his heart. “Do you feel that?” he asks.

I sigh. “Kit⁠—”