Page 109 of A Little Crush
She nods against me, but her breathing is stilted. Forced. “You were so nervous.”
“I was,” I mutter, lost in the memory. “I was freaking out, Rore.”
“I remember.” Her words are so quiet I’m surprised I hear her. I can’t decide if it’s because she’s reliving the moment, or if it’s because she’s too distracted by the time ticking on her internal clock—and the literal one glowing from the microwave in the kitchen—to focus on our conversation.
“Did you know you were the first person I told?” I prod.
“I was?”
“Yeah.”
She lifts her head to peek up at me. “Why?”
I hesitate, wondering the same thing. I never thought about it before. Not until recently. “I’m not sure. I guess you felt…safe.”
“Safe?”
“I don’t know. I guess I knew that…if there was anyone who could accept me and my decisions no matter how illogical they seemed, it was you.”
“You’re many things, Jaxon Thorne,” she whispers. Whatlittle light is in the room makes her round, doe-shaped eyes practically glow. “Illogical isn’t one of them.”
“Turning your back on something you worked years for felt illogical at the time.”
“Maybe,” she concedes. “If you’d actually done that.”
“What do you mean?”
“Pivoting isn’t the same thing as quitting, Jax. You followed your gut and took the road less traveled, and look where it got you.”
“Yeah.” My attention dips to her mouth. Look where it got me. With a girl who’s ten years younger than me sitting on my lap. Am I crazy for wanting her here? For feeling the way I do? “Do you remember what you told me that night?” I ask.
“You mean, after you admitted you were terrified to tell your dad you weren’t going to the NHL like you’d both planned for your entire life?”
My eyes thin in a mock glare. “I’m not sure I used the word terrified, but…”
A smirk tugs at the edge of her mouth. “I told you that you were meant for more than following in your dad’s footsteps and being a silly hockey player.”
“Which is when I told you that if any of our family members heard you call them a silly hockey player, you’d be thrown in time out,” I remind her.
“Which is when I told you they could put me in time out for however long they wanted as long as you were happy with your decision, and I stand by it. The question is, are you happy?”
Am I happy? The question catches me off guard.
I’m divorced. I’m a single father. I’m failing at my job, or at least it feels that way. And I’m secretly hooking up with my nanny, who’s also my boss’s daughter. By all counts, it seems like my life has imploded. But am I happy? Would Iwant to be anywhere else? With anyone else? The answer leaves my chest tight and my head feeling like it’s floating in the clouds.
“Yeah, Beautiful. I think I am.”
My fingers dip beneath the stolen T-shirt and glide across her bare skin as I memorize the feel of her, every dip, every inch, before pushing her hair behind her ear. She leans into my touch, and I swear the organ in my chest skips a beat. I check the time on the microwave. “Would you look at that. You made it. It’s 5:42 in the morning and no panic attack.”
“No panic attack,” she confirms. With a deep breath, she lifts her chin and waits for me to kiss her. After I do, she whispers, “Thank you.”
“Anytime, Rore.”
And fuck, do I mean it.
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JAXON
