Page 52 of Outlaw Heartstrings
“I’m just glad we could share those memories with Jagger, too,” I say finally. I glance into the car where the little boy has already dozed off in his seat.
“Yeah,” Easton agrees, his gaze following mine as he stares lovingly at his son.
The usual tense silence returns, filling the air around us in the darkening front yard.
“I…I want to say something,” I mutter eventually.
“Go ahead.” Easton makes a gallant gesture with his hand, giving me the floor.
“I’m sorry,” I blurt out.
“Sorry for what?” His eyes narrow at me.
“I feel like I made everything between us infinitely more complicated than it needed to be. Instead of just ghosting you when everything happened with Raya, I should have at least tried to reach out to you and get your side of the story. We were friends, and I should have been willing to have a frank discussion with you about what was going on.” I drop my gaze to the asphalt driveway in shame. “You probably hate me so much.”
After considering my words for a brief moment, Easton shrugs a big shoulder. “I don’t hate you, Alba.”
Somehow, I find that hard to believe. My failure to act caused Easton and his son to be separated for eight years. In my mind, that’s pretty unforgivable.
Easton speaks again. “Look, hindsight is twenty-twenty, and I understand that you were in a difficult position at the time. Emotions were running high, especially with all the bullshit lies Raya must have told you about me.” His eyes find mine, soft and hopeful. “But we can start over…”
My heart flutters. “Start over?” I squeak out.
His voice wavers with uncertainty. “I really appreciated your friendship back in the day. I’m hoping we can try again. If you’re open to that. For…for Jagger’s sake.”
My tongue rolls nervously over my bottom lip and I wrap my arms around my middle. “Yes. Of course. For Jagger’s sake. F-friends.”
He nods. “Yeah.” After another awkward moment, he holds his arms open. “We, uh, hug it out?”
Hug it out?Right.
I force myself to smile. “We hug it out.” Because that’s what friends would do.
I take a cautious step toward him. He takes a cautious step toward me.
Easton’s arms tentatively come around my back, loosely embracing me. Meanwhile, my arms hang limply by my sides.
Chuckling, he clasps my wrists, bringing my spaghetti noodle arms around his waist. “You’re supposed to hug me back.”
“Oh, right…” I mumble, trying not to breathe in the manly scent of his shirt.
“Right.” He lowers his chin to rest on the crown of my head, exhaling contentedly. Like he’s been in desperate need of human touch. “This is how hugs work.”
I laugh, even as I get zapped with 50 000 volts in every spot our bodies brush. “I’ll remember that for next time.”
Will there be a next time? Is this gonna be one of those touchy-feely kinds of friendships?God—I hope so, the damp spot in my panties responds on a sigh.
For crying out loud.
I know that it’s wrong, but I allow myself to relax in Easton’s arms for just a second longer. Because hell—I’ve been starved for touch, too.
He’s my nephew’s father, a voice yells from the back of my conscience.
Annoyed at always having to do the right thing, I wrench myself out of the hug. I give Easton a pat on the arm.
“Well, you take care now, friend,” I say. Then I hightail it around the hood to the driver’s side of the car.
Easton blinks, a crooked, dimpled smile tilting his gorgeous mouth. “Take care now, friend,” he echoes, clearly mocking me as I jump behind the wheel and close the door.
