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He points to his chest. “I chose to avoid the mistake Colt made with your mom, getting serious too soon and ending up apart.”
“That’s their story. It didn’t have to be ours.” I add another shirt to my suitcase. “Instead, you listened to my dad, the man who couldn’t handle a relationship until he gave up football. He’s the last person you should’ve ever taken advice from.”
“Actually he isn’t,” Wes sighs, rubbing his jaw. “Colt gave some really good advice to our parents, to my agent Harper and her husband, even some of his teammates. Those people are all still together. I thought that counted for something. Plus, he’s your dad, and I wanted to be on his good side so I’d have his support when I asked you to marry me.”
“Asked me to…,” The shirt I’m holding falls to the bed. “We never talked about that.”
“Did you think I didn’t want it?” He reaches for my hand and runs his thumb gently over my skin, sending a spark of heat to my heart. “I wanted everything with you. A future, a family. I didn’t want to risk that by moving too fast.”
“So you risked it by listening to my dad instead, and he took that future away.” I pull my hand back to free myself from his touch, which feels more right than wrong the longer I allow it.
“He didn’t take it away.” Wes shakes his head adamantly. “Delayed it maybe, but he didn’t take it away.”
“No, he took it,” I say sadly. “Until he got involved, we were whole. Complete. But he made you doubt us. He made you doubt everything you knew about me. How can I trust you again knowing you’ll listen to someone else before you listen to me?”
“That’s not…I mean…” Wes grimaces and sinks back to the bed. “Shit. When you put it that way it sounds…Look, you know that wasn’t my intention, right?”
“It doesn’t matter. I trusted you, and when you broke that you made it so I couldn’t trust anyone. As it turns out, that includes my Dad.” I pick up another shirt and start to fold it, hoping he’ll take that as his dismissal.
“Won’t you at least give me a chance to do better?” He looks at me with glassy eyes.
“Why?”
“Why?” He reaches for my hand again and places it over his heart. “Because you still love me. If you didn’t you would have moved on by now.”
“I haven’t moved on because one heartbreak is enough, thank you.” I pull my hand back. “That doesn’t automatically mean I still love you.”
“Look at me and say that then. Look me in the eye and tell me you don’t feel anything for me.”
“I love the Wes I met eight years ago.” I look him dead in the eye. “You aren’t him.”
He locks his jaw and closes his eyes like he’s waiting out the sting of my words, as if time will make them less painful. It won’t. Not for either of us.
“You can’t be sure of that. Not unless you spend time with me now.” He grasps for an opening.
I zip my suitcase and reach for my laptop bag. “I didn’t go to the game today for a reason.”
“What?” A little crease separates his brows.
“Football, Wes. It’s who you are. It’s what you are. End of story.”
“Football is what I know, not who I am.”
This time I don’t try to hide the eye roll, but that doesn’t deter him.
“One day. One day with me, and if you don’t want to see me beyond that I’ll accept it. But I won’t stop asking until you give me that day. I’ll chase you back to D.C. if I have to.”
The hard line of his jaw tells me he’s serious. When he gets that look, there’s no stopping him.
I should say yes and get it over with, but even though it’s just a day that doesn’t make his request harmless. Even now, as angry as I am, I’m drawn to him. To his soulful amber eyes, the firm line of his jaw, the strong arms that I always used to feel so safe in when they were wrapped around me. The tether that pulled us together before never snapped, and there’s a very real possibility that it never will if I get to know him again. Especially now that I know that I didn’t imagine his feelings all those years ago–that my dad put him up to leaving me.
It doesn’t change what he did, but it gives me some measure of comfort to know I was more than the casual hookup I believed myself to be for the last eight years.
I’m still furious about what he put me through. I still don’t trust him. But if I don’t give him this he’ll follow me, and if he follows me, I’ll stay stuck in this limbo indefinitely. I guess that makes one day my only option.
“One day.” I stare him down, so he knows I’m just as serious.
His whole frame seems to shrink somewhat as he opens and closes his fist, releasing the tension that’s been gripping him since he entered the room. He must’ve been thinking I wouldn’t agree. That almost makes me wish I’d held out longer. Almost.
