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The stadium erupted into cheers when Michigan won the toss, and after a few handshakes, I walked with numb legs off the field. This was worse than their funeral, somehow, this reminder of how much we’d all lost.
And how long I’d been able to ignore it.
I caught a flash of red hair as I strode toward the tunnel.
The team took the field, and the energy ratcheted up again—jumping and screaming and loud music—and all I wanted to do was go somewhere quiet and cool and calm.
When I was clear of the field, everything from the last few months rushed at me with deafening precision, and I sank against the wall, pressing the heels of my palms against my eyes.
Soft fingers slid up my forearms, and I exhaled at the feel of her hands on me.
“I won’t ask you if you’re okay,” she said.
With gentle pressure, she pulled my hands away from my face and stood directly in front of me. I let out a deep breath and studied her face. I saw patience. Understanding.
“You’re never scared of me when I’m like this,” I told her.
Charlotte’s lips curled up into a gentle smile. “No.”
“Do you ever wonder if you should be?” I asked.
Her smile grew. “Yes.”
Somehow, she managed to pull a reluctant laugh from me. Winding my fingers in hers, I brought her hands toward my mouth and kissed the soft skin of her knuckles.
“I feel like I’m doing all of this wrong,” I admitted.
“What parts?”
I held her eyes. “Everything. The house. You. That kiss. I always say the wrong thing, or walk away when I should stay. Blame the fact that I never quite know how to handle these things on not having a good example growing up.”
Charlotte stepped closer, pulling her hands out of mine so that she could wrap her arms around me. When she was folded into my embrace, I finally let out a deep, contented sigh.
“Not much felt wrong about that kiss,” she said quietly. “Not to me.”
I buried my nose in her hair and inhaled. “Me neither.”
At my hushed admission, she tightened her arms.
“Then let’s not walk away right now.” She pulled her face back and steadied me with all the certainty I saw in those big eyes. “Let’s go back in there, because you’re not doing this wrong, Burke. The only wrong way to do any of it is to quit when things get too hard.”
I swept my thumb over her cheekbone. “Okay.”
She smiled.
I loved her smile.
“And you’re staying in my room tonight,” she whispered.
Now it was my turn to smile, and I did while resting my forehead against hers. “Okay.”
Charlotte darted up and placed a quick, soft kiss on my cheek, then gripped my hand in hers as we walked back out onto the field.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
CHARLOTTE
Football, as it turned out, was a bit of a secret aphrodisiac.
