Page 41 of Every Move You Make

“Why didn’t you tell me you were applying?”

“I wanted to earn this on my own merit.”

Unable to stop myself, I let the thoughts tumble out. “How’s your shoulder and neck? Angie told me all about it.”

At that, he rotates his shoulder. “I can’t play anymore, but it’s a lot better.” He swallows. “Dell’s been helping a lot.”

Guilt digs its sharp claws into my gut at the mention of our mutual…friend? “So you quit your security job?”

“Yeah. I’m finishing up this week. I already hired someone to replace me.”

“Listen,” I sigh, doing my best to calm my nerves. “About Saturday night—”

“It’s okay.”

“No. Why didn’t you tell me you worked there? I would have liked to see you. I go there a lot.”

“I know.”

Suddenly, my throat constricts slightly and an unexpected sting forms behind my eyes.I can do this; I can speak my mind.“Why have you been avoiding me?” I ask, unable to fight the tremble in my voice. “What have I done to you?”

“Nothing,” he replies quickly. “I—I’m sorry. I just wanted you to be happy and safe.”

“Safe? Why wouldn’t I be safe? And I’d be a lot happier if we could be the kind of friends we used to be.”

Isaiah pulls at the back of his neck. “A lot has changed since college, hasn’t it?”

I nod.

“Can we start over?”

A clean slate sounds amazing. Maybe if we do this, I can get my friend back. Maybe if we do this, I can go back to a time when Isaiah was just a friend and no more—before my feelings ran deeper and my desires ran rampant. I can hope, can’t I? It’s all I have now that he’s my coach. There’s no trading to a different team because rugby isn’t like professional sports. There aren’t multiple teams to get drafted to. Short of moving to another country to play, I’m stuck here with Isaiah Johanssen as my coach.

It’s time to start fresh.

“Yeah, we can start over,” I smile, and weirdly enough, a peaceful weight covers me. The corner of his mouth curls up, and suddenly I can see twenty-year-old Isaiah, the dayI met him.

A small, surprised grunt escapes him when I launch myself into his arms for a long-overdue hug.

“I missed you, Zay.”

His responding squeeze is delayed, but it blankets me in comfort. I’ve missed his strong arms. I’ve missed his scent, but it’s a little different now. Is that coconut and almond? Rosemary?

Shamelessly, I take an exaggerated inhale. “Why do you smell so good?”

His chest shakes as he chuckles, and he pulls away to shoot his baby blues into mine. “It’s my beard oil.”

“I’m obsessed,” I groan.

“Easy, killer,” he smiles, and we break apart.

I missed this. I missed us. I can live with being just friends if it means he’s himself with me again. A smiling Isaiah was always my favorite. If being my coach is the only way I could have this version of him again, then I’ll take it. The comfort of his friendship outweighs my struggle.

For now.

Chapter 17

Strange Feelings

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