Page 97 of Hung Up
38JESSE
FORT WORTH
someone worth winning for
Last night felt different.It wasn’t like every other time we’ve had sex before. No, this time it felt like we were making love, and that was such a calming thought to fall asleep to. It felt right, and it might be crazy, maybe I’m being delusional, but I swear she felt it, too.
But not knowing, that sliver of doubt that’s been lingering in my mind that I had avoided since Kai’s injury, started rearing its ugly head again when I woke up this morning. And to make it worse, I woke up alone. What if I thought it was the final step, that I was ready to tell her I love her, only for her to tell me later that it was a great way to say goodbye? What if that moment with her was intended to be our last?
It’s that thought that follows me through my shower and leaving the hotel, the one that causes me to pace after I pick my bull in the hallway outside the media room.
I love this girl. I know that probably surprises nobody—it’s not like I hid it very well. Faith made me into a very ‘hearton my sleeve’ type of guy. But what if I’ve misread all of these moments between us? What if her fleeting looks meant something completely different?HaveI been delusional? Did I make it all up in my head?
Oh, god. I did, didn’t I?
I’m such a fucking idiot. God, Wyatt was right once again. I made myself see what I wanted to believe to be true and ignored all the signs.
Or maybe I read them all correctly, and she does feel the same.
Nope, you were completely off base. Don’t get your hopes up.
Fuck me.
“Didn’t anyone tell you that pacing like that is bad for your posture?”
Despite myself, a smile tugs at my lips at the sound of her voice, the memory from the very beginning replaying through my mind. “I recall someone very wise saying that to me once, I believe.”
“Extremely wise, you mean.” She chuckles before concern etches its way onto her face. “What’s wrong, Pretty Boy? Haven’t seen you anxious like this in a while.”
“It’s nothing,” I lie. If I don’t acknowledge the fear, if I don’t talk about what could happen, then maybe it never will. They tell you if you ignore something, it doesn’t come true, right? That’s the phrase?
“Jesse.” She’s in front of me before I even register that she has closed the gap between us, resting a hand on my arm. “You can talk to me.”
I plan on making something up, intend to play blissfully unaware of my own fears but my heart decides to say ‘screw that’ and takes control of my mouth, the words tumbling out of me before I can stop them.
“I’m fucking losing my mind, Faith. I have wanted this for as long as I can remember, but since you walked into that arena four months ago,” I pause, shaking my head and taking a deep breath. “I don’t want anything anymore as much as I want you. You’re what my heart wants. I know I’m doing this for Kai now, but I don’t even want this stupid buckle. I’ve come to realize that nothing matters if you don’t have someone to celebrate your wins with.
“And I know you don’t want this, that you’ve made it clear you don’t want a relationship or for this to continue when the championships are over, but fuck me.” I pinch the bridge of my nose, my jaw ticking as I avoid eye contact. “I’ve been dreaming up a life we could have knowing damn well I’d get hurt at the end of it. And I didn’t fucking care, I still don’t. I just want you, all of you. And it kills me that I never will.”
Faith pulls my hand away from my face, causing my eyes to shoot open. Her eyes are soft, a very subtle smile tugging at her lips as she grips my hands tightly in her own. “You have me.”
“Not the way I want,” I tell her, unable to keep the defeat from my voice. “Not the way that matters.”
“Jesse Hayes, you do.” She lets go of my hands and cups my face, an intensity in her gaze that keeps me locked in when she says, “I love you.”
It takes a moment for her words to register, but when they do? The look on my face must be purely comical because Faith chuckles, an adoring look evident in her beautiful blue eyes.
She loves me.
Shelovesme.
Faith Thompson lovesme.
This can’t be real.
“Say it again,” I murmur, my hands landing on her hips and gripping them tightly, terrified that if I let go, this moment willhave been a figment of my imagination. I need to hear her say it again.
“I love you,” she repeats, her smile amplifying.
