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I loved you.
I said that to him yesterday.
I did.
I can’t believe that I did, but I did.
I hate that I told him. I hate that I gave him that much power and blurted out the secret that I’d managed to keep from him for three years.
Somehow I make myself move and resume walking.
Which is when he moves too. Or rather, his eyes do.
They flicker down to where I’ve got Halo snuggled to my chest. He watches me pat her bottom and rub her back, and shifts on his feet. His chest in his typical rocker t-shirt — this one navy blue with faded red stars — moves with a long breath as well and he presses a hand on the door.
Watching and watching me with Halo.
As if restless.
As if imagining the same things that I was.
Before he got here.
My heart squeezes in my chest. My womb pulses. More than it usually does when he’s around.
But I ignore it.
There is no way he’s thinking about what I was thinking about. He doesn’t have the capacity for that. All he knows is how to destroy.
When I reach the door, he finally looks up, his hand still pressed on the glass, and I notice his eyes have gone pitch black.
His eyes have something flickering in them.
Some type of emotion that I quickly look away from and get busy opening the door.
“What,” I clear my throat, “are you doing here? Why aren’t you in New York?”
He doesn’t answer right away.
His eyes are still watching me. Or rather us. Going from my face down to Halo, who’s completely oblivious of anything being wrong right now as she happily coos and chews on her fist.
And they’re doing it both rapidly and slowly.
As if he’s so hungry that he’s both taking his time with it and can’t stop gorging himself on what’s before him.
It’s unnerving.
This isn’t the first time he’s seen me with Halo. Granted, we’ve maybe seen each other two times or so at family gatherings since she was born and I’m fairly positive that one of those times I was with Halo. So this sight isn’t new. I don’t know why he’s acting like he never wants to stop watching me.
“Ledger,” I say to get his attention and stop him from staring at me like that.
It works.
But in a strange way.
Because his eyes snap back to mine and he looks… taken aback.
“What?” I ask, confused.
He licks his lips. “This is the first time you’ve said it.”
I deliberately keep my eyes away from his mouth. “Said what?”
“My name.”
Now I’m the one taken aback. “That’s not…”
“In thirteen months.”
“That can’t be true.”
“And yet it is.”
I don’t know what to make of his comment. Or the fact that he noticed something this trivial. Because honestly, I hadn’t. And neither did I do it deliberately, if it’s true.
Maybe it was my mind’s way of protecting me after everything.
Don’t say the name of the boy who broke your heart.
Who knows.
All I know is that it’s strange and mysterious. Much like his expression.
I clear my throat again. “Well, probably because it’s a curse that summons the devil.”
His lips flicker with light amusement then. “Probably.”
“Are you going to tell me what you’re still doing in Bardstown? When I’m sure you should be in New York. Practicing until you, I don’t know, drop dead or something.”
His reply comes after a couple of seconds of silence. “I’m taking a break from soccer.”
“What?”
“So I’ll be in town for a while.”
“How is it that you’re taking a break from soccer?” I ask, confused. “You never take breaks.”
Which is the truth.
Ever since I’ve known him, he’s been adamant about not taking any breaks. Like ever.
I remember one time he got into this huge fight with my brother and they both ended up in the hospital because of it. While my brother came out with a twisted ankle, he came out with a badly bruised rib. And even then he insisted on going to practice. What’s more, he even went to his solo practice. Which he usually did after his mandatory practice with the team.
So yeah, soccer is this guy’s life.
His dream. His ambition. Even his love.
Soccer is the very reason why his rivalry started with my brother. And of course, his rivalry is why, years later, he ended up breaking my heart.
Sometimes I wonder, what if there was no soccer at all.
There’d be no rivalry. No revenge, and maybe we’d be…
“I do now,” he says, breaking into my thoughts.
Which is just as well.
I don’t want to go down the what if path. And neither do I want to appease my curiosity about his strange break from his beloved game. So even though my confusion is still there, I don’t try to clear it.
Instead I say, “Fine. Whatever. But what are you doing here, at the house?”
He looks at me for a second or two before dropping his eyes down to the cuddly, sweet-smelling bundle on my chest. He reaches out and runs a finger over Halo’s chubby cheek and gosh, my belly trembles so badly that I’m grateful I’m still holding onto the doorknob.
