Page 105 of The Puckable Playbook

I press a kiss to her temple. My stomach clenches. Nerves tightening. We’ve been together a few months, and there were so many times that these words almost sprang from my lips, but I held them back in fear. I don’t want to live like that anymore.

“I love you,” I tell her, my voice raspy, my words barely audible. For a second, I wonder if she’s even heard me and if I should attempt to say it again.

Slowly, she turns in my arms. “I love you, too.”

My heart takes off like a stampeding horse in one of the pastures. “You’re everything I could’ve ever asked to be brought into my life when I needed it the most. You’re my North Star. All I have to do is look to you, and I know what direction I should be going in.”

She inches forward, making me spread my legs to accommodate her as she leans in to kiss me. I maneuver my palms to the side of her face and seal the kiss, infusing every bit of emotion that’s been building up inside these last few months into this; into making sure she knows exactly how I feel.

I’m a flawed man. I don’t deserve this. I don’t deserve Len, but as long as she’ll keep by my side, I’ll try for her. I’ll attempt to be everything she wants me to be and more.

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

Len

My honey-infused lemoncoated skin buzzes as I step out of the hot tub, Zaiah’s hand in mine. We’ve been at the spa all morning, and despite never being in one prior, I’m convinced. Pure relaxation from head to toe.

“You surprised me with this, you know that?” I say to Zaiah.

He squeezes my hand. “That was the plan.”

“That’s not what I meant.” I grin. “I’m surprised by what you chose, and I really, really love it. Promise me we’ll come back sometime.”

He pulls me in to kiss my temple. “It’s a deal.”

He holds my hand for as long as he can until we have to separate to go into the individual locker rooms. My body feels like mush, and my brain is in a sort of zen state. The massage, rainfall shower, and hot tub dip were probably the longest I’ve gone without worrying about something. Especially recently.

I tug my clothes on, sniffing my forearm to see if I still have the aroma on me. It fills my nostrils with ease.Delectable.

Today, we still have the hot springs and a trail ride to try before we head back to campus, though the trail ride might have to wait for a different visit if we can’t fit it in.

Being here has been so romantic, conjuring up all the swoon I have for this man. The way my stomach drops when he still looks at me. The way I want to be close to him because of how safe I feel. Comforted. Alive. It’s as if there’s a drawstring between our hearts, and the tether keeps tightening and tightening.

When I’m finished changing out of the plush robe and into my normal clothes, I walk out into the foyer. It’s a far cry from the rustic modern look of the spa, mostly log cabin chic with everything in sight made from raw wood.

I sit in one of the log-hewn chairs facing out onto the lake and stare out. A few minutes pass, and Zaiah hasn’t come out yet, so I grab my phone to let him know where I am in case he missed me and walked back to the RV.

The text goes into an unsent status, and when I look up at the top of my screen, I find the culprit. No signal. I go into my Wi-Fi settings and connect to their internet so I can send him a message. My phone dings repeatedly with notifications, which I ignore…until one catches my eye.

RE: QUERY/THE SPORT OF DREAMING

My heart pounds. I pull down my notifications and press on it. A response from Athletics, Inc Magazine. Excitement burrows into me. It could be nothing. In fact, it probably is, but getting my first rejection is also a rite of passage. I’m well aware it’ll be tough to sell my first article, and possibly even my tenth or more. The market is competitive and—

Thank you for sending this to me. I really enjoyed it. It was thought-provoking and intriguing with a depth of story Idon’t often read from the slush pile. I’d love to talk more about this, but most importantly, I’m dying to know what happened to your friend. Did he make it?

Phone in hand, I stand, shaking. The editor. The actual editor. He liked it.

My arm drops, and I peer toward the ceiling. I could burst right out of my skin. I can’t believe it. Everything I’ve worked so hard for coming together like this. Hope springs in my chest.

“Hey, sweetie.”

I nearly jump out of my shoes, but I turn to Zaiah with what I’m sure is a half-crazed look on my face.

“What is it? Are you okay?”

Tears slip down my cheek, and he brushes them away, his brow furrowing. “They’re happy tears,” I promise.

“What’s going on?” The way his smooth voice wraps around me lulls me.

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