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“You are, Hayes Bishop. You’re a great leader and a great friend. But making the play, taking what you want, doesn’t make you a bad one. You’re allowed to choose yourself once in a while.”
I don't think I've ever seen him like this. Hayes Bishop, who can step onto the ice in front of twenty thousand people and make a decision in less than a second, is standing in his kitchen looking at me like he doesn't know which way to go.
And part of me wants to make it easy for him.
Tell him we can figure it out tomorrow. That nobody has to know that it doesn't have to mean anything more than tonight. Except I'd be lying.
Because I know myself.
I know what one night with Bishop would mean to me. And I don't want him waking up tomorrow wishing he'd made a different choice, not after spending five years trying to forget how that felt.
I lift onto my toes.
His hands tighten slightly against my face.
Then I press my lips to his.
Just once.
Softly.
He doesn't pull away.
But he doesn't deepen the kiss, either.
I brush my fingers along his jaw. “Thank you for tonight.”
His eyes open. “Becks.”
“I mean it.” I manage a smile. “The dinner, the dancing, all of it. I had a really wonderful time.”
He studies me. I can practically see him searching for something to say. Something that might make this easier.
But there isn't anything. Not really.
So, I slip my hands from his chest.
“Good night, Bishop.”
His fingers slide reluctantly from my hair, and I turn away from him before I can change my mind. Before I can ask him to kiss me again. Before I can offer him a version of myself that wants nothing more than to make him happy, even if it means pretending I don't care what happens afterward.
The first stair is cool beneath my bare foot. I gather my skirt and start up the stairs.
One step.
Then another.
I make it halfway up before I hear him behind me.
“Becks.”
I stop, my fingers tightening around the banister.
For one second, I don't turn around.
Because whatever he says next might change everything.
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
