Page 72 of Shift Change

He pressed his lips together and cleared his throat. “We need to talk, so let’s sit.”

Since it was a rare sunny February morning, we took our breakfast to the kitchen table in front of the French doors. Sunlight streamed in, casting a warm glow over everything, and Chuck almost looked golden. His eyes glimmered as he bit into a strip of bacon, making my heart skip a beat. I nearly made a joke, something flirty to keep things easy, but his expression shifted before I could open my mouth.

He picked up more bacon and tapped it on his plate. “I’ve been thinking about something.”

“You don’t want to move out, do you?” The words tumbled out of me before I could stop them.

“No, nothing like that.” He put the bacon down and took a sip of coffee. “Why would you think that? Do youwantme to move out?”

“No.” Chuck picked up the bacon and ate it while I downed my orange juice and gathered my thoughts. “I’ve been thinking too.”

He had a forkful of egg halfway to his mouth but paused long enough to ask, “About?”

“I’m not sure.” So much for gathering my thoughts.

I expected him to laugh or at least toss a chirp across the table, but he narrowed his eyes and ate his eggs.

As they say, the best defense is a good offense, so I asked, “What haveyoubeen thinking about?” My voice was too loud, making him jump. “Sorry. Nervous.”

“Why are you nervous?”

“I don’t fucking know. It’s this…” I wagged a finger back and forth between us. “Us.”

He tilted his head. “Us?”

“Yeah.”

This time he did snicker, then squelched it and shook his head. “Wow. That was about as clear as a post-game interview, a bunch of words but no actual information.”

I scoffed. “Oh, I’m sorry, Professor Madison. I don’t have the time or crayons to explain it to you.”

“Like youcouldfucking explain it.”

“Bud, I could explain it to a rock that would get it better than you do.”

He held up a hand. “Stop. We can’t do this.”

I ate a piece of sausage to buy time. “Do what?”

He looked into my eyes. “I have something important to say, but I’m nervous too. We’re doing what ‘Mad Dog’ and ‘Holky’ do best—deflecting.”

“I’m not deflecting.” I said it automatically, even though I totallywasdeflecting. The way his brown eyes locked onto mine made me feel exposed. I already knew he could see past my cocky lines and dumb jokes into the mess underneath.

I should have cared what he wanted to say, and I did,but all I could think about was the pressure building in my chest. Words were fighting to come out, but I didn’t know how to do it. I opened my mouth then closed it again. The feelings were too big. Was I imagining them, making this into more than it was? Was I about to ruin everything?

Maybe it was all a mirage, and I was the only one feeling it.

He stared at me. His bedhead was a mess, sticking up in every direction, and the little line between his brows, the one he always got when something was bugging him, made an appearance. Was he mad? I couldn’t tell, and it was twisting my stomach into a hard knot.

He glanced away, looking out into the garden, and I swallowed hard before asking, “Do you know what you want to say?”

“More or less. Do you?”

“Sort of, but I can’t get it organized enough to come out. You want to go first?”

His head snapped back toward me. “Me?” His voice wavered enough to make my chest tighten.

I nodded.

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