Page 36 of A Little Crush
“Don’t be.” He hesitates, but I don’t miss the way he shuts down even more, proving it’s a touchier subject than he’d like it to be. “I should probably check on Poppy,” he adds.
Another beat of silence hits, knocking me harder than I want to admit. How can I already miss him when he hasn’t even left me yet? I’ve survived without him for years. Hell, around a decade now, and the idea of going back to silence and awkward looks and stilted conversations feels…empty.
I feel empty.
Wiping his hands on his slacks, Jax begins to stand, but I grab the sleeve of his shirt to stop him. “Jax?”
His eyes stay glued to my grip on him. It makes me way more self-conscious than I want to acknowledge. But the really surprising part? He doesn’t pull away.
“Yeah, Squeaks?” he rasps.
I force my fingers to loosen from his sleeve and link them in my lap. “For what it’s worth, I, uh, I’ve missed you, too.”
With a shallow but sharp inhale through flared nostrils, he stands to his full height and stares down at me, leaving me desperate to read his mind. To know what he’s thinking. How he’s feeling. If I crossed another line like I did all those years ago.
“It’s worth a lot, Rore.” The same raspy tone rolls over me, leaving prickles of awareness along my bare arms.
“I know we’re not the same people we once were, but…” My words get lost in my throat, though I know I’m too far gone to turn back now.
“But what, Squeaks?”
“But do you think you’d want to try being friends again?” I sniff, refusing to lose my nerve. “I don’t know. I just…after Maverick’s toast, I was reminded how…how frail life can be, and I feel like I’ve already lost enough people I care about, you know?”
Those dark green eyes threaten to swallow me whole as he stands motionless, towering over me the way he used to when I was a kid. And maybe it’s the alcohol, maybe it’s the defenses he managed to barrel over with one simple conversation and an offered shoulder to cry on, but I swear I see interest swirling in those vibrant eyes. It’s enough to leave me off-balance, and I open my mouth to rescind my suggestion, but he cuts me off.
“Not gonna lose me.” Folding at the waist, he kisses my forehead, but I tamp down the butterflies left in its wake, refusing to entertain them when they’re not important. Not in the big picture. What’s important is this. This friendship.This connection. I’ve ignored it for so long, misconstruing it into something it isn’t, and therefore, avoiding it like it’s something ugly, when what I feel for Jaxon is the furthest thing from it. And as long as I can keep the romantic meter in check, what’s wrong with moving forward and letting our past go in an attempt to salvage our platonic connection—one I’ve only ever felt with him?
Nothing. Nothing at all.
Right?
14
JAXON
I’ve never been a fan of small talk, but I’d give anything to discuss the weather instead of drowning in Iris’s ramblings. I used to find it cute. The thought is laughable now. Or maybe there was less venom before. Less nitpicking on her end, and less tongue-biting on mine. By some miracle, she let me keep Poppy overnight after the wedding. We stayed in one of the rooms at the country club with the majority of the wedding party, though I left the reception earlier than most, grateful it was Poppy’s bedtime and I had a solid excuse to hide away. After my conversation with Rory, I appreciated the quiet. The time to think. If only Iris hadn’t ruined it with an early morning phone call, demanding Poppy be ready in ten minutes despite our original plan.
Scrubbing my hand over my face, I buckle Poppy’s car seat into the back of Iris’s Land Rover while she prattles on about how it would’ve been nice if she’d received an invitation to the wedding.
We’ve had this conversation at least a dozen times, and even though Mav gave me the final call as to whether my lifewould’ve been made easier or even more of a shit show than it normally is if Iris was invited, I’m not sure what path would’ve made Iris less nasty.
“I told you I would’ve been happy to drop Poppy off at the house this afternoon like we planned,” I remind her before giving my daughter one more kiss on the forehead.
“It’s not your week,” she snaps. “Remember?”
Not anymore, I want to clarify, but I swallow my comment. After all, Iris is the one who asked if we could switch weeks despite the wedding being on the calendar for over a month. The change gave Iris two weeks back-to-back, along with free ammunition for her allowing me to steal Poppy for one night thanks to the big event. The irony isn’t lost on me, since I was the first to accommodate the switch, even if it messed with my own plans. It’d be nice if she didn’t throw my generosity in my face, but here I am. The bad guy all over again.
Too tired to put up a fight, I mutter, “My mistake,” and unfold myself from the back of her car, closing the door behind me.
“Speaking of mistakes,” she continues, “Have you found a nanny yet?” She crosses her arms. “Because I will not let some stranger stay with my baby while you traipse around the world.”
Continent, I silently correct. And no, I haven’t found a nanny yet because anyone who even comes close is shot down as soon as I forward Iris the resume. Not that it matters. It’s not like Poppy likes anyone but me, and the idea of her bawling for hours on end anytime I’m coaching is almost enough to make me draw up my resignation papers right here, right now. It’s not like the weeks when I don’t have her are much better, though. I hate it. Being away from her. Feeling like she’s leverage Iris can use anytime we’re apart.
Fuck.
I don’t even know what to do anymore.
“You know, you could always leave her with me full time,” Iris continues. “Although we’d have to take it into account when it comes to child support, but I’m sure my lawyer would be happy to send you his revisions.”
