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My jaw trembled. I’d been so hurt by the few people I truly cared about. I had no one left but Hayden, and luckily, I knew he'd never let me down.
"Come on, Aid. This isn’t you. This isn’t the girl I know. You fought to qualify for elite. Sweat, blood, tears, and maybe a little too much Motrin has gone into you achieving your goal. Everything you’ve worked so hard for will be gone in the blink of an eye because you let this dickhead ruin you. Don’t let him strip you of your dream. You’re better than this."
He was right.
"Talk to me. Let me in." Desperation tinged his voice. "What is it you need from me? Whatever it is, it's yours. Let me help you get past this."
I stared over Hayden’s shoulder. The thing was, I didn’t want to talk, didn’t want to utter a word. I didn’t want him to know the real truth behind why I was so upset.
That would require admitting that I loved Kova, and I’d never admit that out loud. Ever.
* * *
I had always been under the assumption that love wasn't supposed to hurt, that it was supposed to be like walking through a butterfly garden high on the vibrant colors of life. Love was easy, natural, and all-encompassing.
A butterfly. Further proof that I'd been so naïve. I should've known it wouldn’t be like that. Love was a vicious cycle and as delicate as butterfly wings. I’ve even heard someone say that a flutter of a wing could cause a typhoon halfway around the world. It’s ironic really—one tiny flutter, like a signed marriage certificate—that two delicate and common things held the power to wreak a lifetime of despair.
"Your eyes change color when you cry." Hayden distracted me from my thoughts.
"Do they?"
His brows lowered. "Hasn't anyone ever told you?"
"No."
Understanding filled Hayden's tender gaze. "You don't let anyone see you cry, do you?"
I'd let my guard down and he saw right through me.
A sad smile tugged at my lips, and he returned it immediately. There was no judgment in his startling blue eyes, only acceptance. The budding feeling that had been cultivating in my heart for the past few months slowly formed into recognition.
I loved Hayden. But I loved him in an entirely different way than how I loved Kova. Hayden was the definition of a good friend. Despite everything, he never wanted to ruin my happiness, only heighten it.
"I was so blinded and stupid. I seriously don't know what I was thinking, but I just can't let go of the fact that he's married. It bothers me so much," I said.
"Yeah, it's a lot to take in and a total mind fuck. He never should have been with you in the first place."
This was too much emotion for my sixteen-year-old self to deal with. But then again, what sixteen-year-old got involved with a thirty-two-year-old man?
My calloused fingertips wandered over his strong shoulder, curving around the back of his neck, and I played with the little hairs at the base of his neck. I curled them around my index finger and gave a little tug. Normally, I'd be embarrassed by the roughness of my hands, but since Hayden was a gymnast and he had the same touch, it didn't bother me.
Expressing a heavy, mentally exhausted sigh, I prepared to tell Hayden at least the partial truth. At this point in my life, it was all I was good for—incomplete facts.
"You're not going to like what I have to say."
Hayden eyed my bare shoulder. His knuckles delicately grazed my collarbone, drifting to where my shirt had fallen. Goosebumps pebbled my skin and my nipples turned into hard little peaks from the intense stare in his eyes.
Licking his lips, he placed my shirt back onto my shoulder, then slid his hand alongside my ribs, his thumb shifting soothingly back and forth close to my breast.
"Lay it on me. That's what friends are for."
A sad smile splayed my face. Friends.
Hayden's head dipped toward mine. There was a small dimple I'd never noticed before. "What are you thinking about?" he asked.
I studied him, catching the hint of playfulness that flirted with me in his eyes. My head spun with questions I'd never have real answers to, and things I didn't want to think about any longer. I wanted to forget, even if it was just for a little while; I wanted this raging headache of grief to disappear.
Hayden shifted in his seat, my hips sinking deeper into his lap. I blushed at the feel of his length under me and kept my focus on the corded muscles in his neck, the curve of his shoulder, his strong jawline. Everything but his eyes.
