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"Why?"
"Why, what? Why won't I walk away? Or why am I making you promise me?"
"Both."
"My mama taught me to take care of women. To treat them with respect. Most importantly, she taught me to never walk away if they need me. And right now, you look like you need a shoulder to cry on. Even though I think your tears would be wasted on him. I'm here if you want me to be."
Who is this man?
I've known Julian for years. We've spent plenty of time together, mainly with the rest of our friends. I've helped him in the kitchen on more than one occasion. We've laughed together. Ate meals together. Partied together.
But until this moment, it feels like we've never had a personal conversation. I wouldn't even know his last name if it weren't stitched on the back of his baseball uniform. Not that I spend much time looking at his name when it's only a few feet above his glorious ass. Which looks even better in baseball pants than it does in jeans.
"Promise me, Piper," he says when I remain silent. "Promise me."
"I promise," I finally say, my eyes never leaving his as the words slip past my lips.
