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“Like we’re enemies.” He dropped his hands and gave me a pleading look. “I don’t want to be your enemy. I swear to God, I’m trying here. If you could just give me the smallest fucking benefit of the doubt instead of automatically assuming I’m out to get you.”
“Fine.” I crossed my arms and glared at him. “You want me to listen? I’m listening. Say whatever it is you have to say.”
He sighed and pushed off the wall so he was facing me. “We’re both trying to build a relationship with Erin. I want us to support each other in doing that, but that doesn’t mean we should necessarily share everything Erin says to us. She needs to feel like she can trust us—like she can have a separate, unique relationship with each of us. Independently. That’s what parents do.”
I bristled at the implication that he knew more about parenting than I did, but bit down on my reflex to snipe back. As much as I resented that he was throwing it in my face, it was true—he did have more experience with this than I did.
It was possible he even had a point.Dammit.
He eyed me warily, waiting for me to respond. When I didn’t, he relaxed a little and continued in a gentler voice. “I’m sorry if you feel like I’m holding back on you, but I don’t feel comfortable revealing every detail of a conversation we had in confidence.”
“She told you things in confidence? Did she say something about me?”
“Not everything is about you!” he shot back with a sudden flare of anger. “Did you ever consider I might have told Erin thingsIdon’t feel like sharing with you?”
I recoiled at the intensity of his reaction. “Oh.”
He squeezed his eyes shut with a grimace and turned his back, pacing a few steps away from me. “I’m sorry. Fuck.” His shoulders hunched as he rubbed his face again. “I keep screwing this up.”
Some of my anger dissipated at the sight of him so obviously struggling. It was replaced by something else. Something softer and warmer that might have been compassion, but felt more like tenderness. Maybe even affection.
I moved to Donal’s side and laid a conciliatory hand on his arm. “I’m sorry. You’re right. I’m making this all about me, and it’s not.”
“I shouldn’t have said that.” He shook his head, wincing. “I can’t seem to control my fucking mouth around you.”
“That makes two of us.” I started to pull my hand back, but he covered it with his, exerting warm pressure as his eyes found mine.
“If you want to know what Erin said to me, you should talk to her. Ask her questions. Open up to her about yourself. Establish your own rapport with her. She wants to know you, but you’ve got to build that relationship with her yourself.”
I nodded, swallowing thickly. “I will.”
I’d been trying, in the emails I’d been exchanging with Erin, and we’d been talking about getting together again for dinner soon. But I couldn’t help feeling like Donal had swooped in from behind and gotten further in two hours than I’d managed in two weeks of steady effort. As per usual.
“I’m just nervous.” Admitting that to Donal took a lot of effort. “Opening up to people isn’t exactly my strong suit, and I’m taking my insecurity out on you.”
He surprised me by pulling me into a hug.
Wow. The man really knew how to give a hug. I wasn’t generally a big hugger, but just like the other night when he’d held me in his arms, I didn’t hate it.
In fact, it felt amazing. A few more hugs like this, and I’d be a dedicated convert to the holy sacrament of hugging. I’d be going door to door proselytizing on the spiritual benefits of embracing physical embraces.
“I promise I’m on your side.” Donal’s voice was low and rough, his breath a warm caress against my hair. “I’m not going to say or do anything to damage your relationship with Erin. You’ve got to trust me on that.”
It was difficult to talk with my heart lodged in my throat and my face pressed against his astonishingly firm chest. “I want that for you too. I’ll try to be a better teammate.”
He pulled back to look at me, and my stomach did another one of those unsettling flips under his up-close scrutiny. “We’re really bad at this, aren’t we?”
I was so flustered, I thought he was making fun of my poor hugging skills and stiffened. “I—what?”
“Being friends.”
Oh. There went my heart, right into my throat again. “Is that what we are?”
“I’d sure like us to be.” His eyebrows notched up a few millimeters. “Wouldn’t you?”
Damn the man for being so likable. How was I supposed to protect myself when he kept being all vulnerable and appealing?
And handsome. Don’t forget the handsome.
