Page 8 of Let You Love Me

“Hey,” I nudge her arm, “things happen. It’s okay.”

Hell, the number of times my little sisters, Trista and Sabel, have given me a heart attack . . .

“I know, but I—”

“Beating yourself up over it won’t change it now.”

She inhales, her whole body puffing up, and I can practically see her worry de-escalating as she exhales. “You’re right.” Her gaze flickers to my tanned chest, and the darks of her eyes dilate before she meets my eyes again, a flush in the apples of her cheeks.

She clears her throat, jerking a thumb behind her. “Anyway, I, uh . . . we should probably go, but thank you. Seriously. Thank you.”

I nod. I should go, too, but I can’t seem to move my feet because if I leave now, I may never see her again, and that would be criminal. I can’t allow that to happen.

My heart lurches as I try to think of something to keep her here.

She begins to back away as my gaze darts around us, then back again as I settle on her T-shirt—a Wildcats football T-shirt—and I motion toward her. “Are you just a fan, or do you go to CU?”

Her lips part. Startled, she glances down at her shirt as if she’s forgotten what she’s wearing. “Oh. I, um . . . both?” She scrunches her nose and it’s so damn cute, my heart fucking flutters inside my chest.

I grin. “Same, although it’s my first year. What about you?” Not exactly the most nonchalant way of finding out how old she is, but I’m not really in the business of giving a damn about being casual.

She hesitates before she answers. “I’m a junior.”

Which makes her roughly . . . twenty, twenty-one?

Perfect. I just turned nineteen so the age difference is nothing, though she could be thirty and a fucking professor at CU and I’m not sure I’d care.

My gaze flickers to the little girl tucked under her arm.

Damn, that’s some age gap. At twelve years difference between me and my sisters, I know what it feels like to play the overprotective sibling role.

“So, you’re a Wildcats football fan, then?” I ask, not yet ready to let her go.

Her hesitates before her lips quirk. “I was practically raised on football.”

She’s gorgeousandloves football.

I’m completely fucked.

“So, you go to the games?”

“Most of the home games, yeah. You?”

I grin. “Again, it’s my first year, but I tend to go to most of them.” Nodding to the park behind her, I ask, “You’re headed to the park?”

She arches a beautiful brow. “For a stranger, you ask a lot of questions.”

I shrug, smirking a little but saying nothing.

Sighing, she says, “Wewereheaded to the park. Looks like we’re doing so now with a busted ball.”

“Sucks you have a busted ball.” She shifts, as if preparing to leave, and I panic. “I didn’t catch your name,” I blurt.

“That’s because I never gave it.” The upward slant of her lips tells me she’s teasing.

I smile, dimples popping as I cock my head and wait.

She laughs and rolls her eyes. “Lane. My name is Lane.” She glances down at the little girl. “And this is Sophie.”

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