Page 102 of Starting Over with You
Fuck. I look over at her just as she smiles. “I’m okay. Go.”
“You sure? I can act like I didn’t hear it,” I say with a wink. Both of us know I wouldn’t do that, no matter how badly I want to.
“Go.”
“You sure you’re okay?”
She shrugs. “It’s a lot to process, Dean August Moore.” My lips turn up sheepishly, and she says, “Text me when you get back so I know Big Seb and you are okay. If I don’t answer, it’s ’cause I passed out.” I scoff and she smiles. “Goodnight, baby.”
Fuck, should I say it? I hold her gaze, but I feel like I can’t. Not yet. She has to know—I mean, I admitted it—but I can’t say it now. Not when she’s drunk and confused. “Sweet dreams, darlin’.”
I watch Kenni go toward the house as I tell dispatch I’m on my way. When she gets to the door, she turns to look at me and sends me a weak little smile. Emotion burns in my chest, and I wish I had said those three words.
I’ve been so damn scared to tell her how I feel. I finally owned up to it, yet I held back the three words I want to say to her for the rest of my life.
CHAPTER
FORTY
Kenni
“Darlin’, I’ve been in love with you since before you ever asked if I was going to kiss you or not.”
Dean’s words crash into me with the force I used on my white plate on the first day I got to Thistlebrook. One thing is for sure, Dean’s name was nowhere on that plate. My eyes burn as I rage-clean the living area. It was one thing to hear the truth from my sister—as her blood, I wanted to be mad that Dean embarrassed her like that. But then, the girl who has always been so utterly obsessed with him preened. He thought of me, he wanted me, and I was wasting my life with a man who couldn’t even love me with an ounce of what Dean felt.
I was so upset that he hadn’t told me, but when did I tell him? When did I admit that kissing him was the best moment of my life? When did I admit that I’d watched his games and imagined being the one he kissed after a damn good game and even the bad ones? Did I admit that I’d watched him when I knew he wasn’t looking just so I could memorize the sharp angles of his jaw? Or that I criedwhen he got Missy pregnant, or that I almost named one of the boys Dean just to keep him close?
No, I never admitted any of that. Nor did I admit that I have fallen so fucking in love with him that I can’t picture a day without him. That in the last nineteen years, I’ve only focused on the big moments. Making sure my boys were loved and taken care of. The house always clean and presentable. Along with myself. I never had a hair out of place, and I always wore makeup. When Stratford claimed it didn’t feel good to fuck me, I sucked his cock like it was the best thing in the world. I made sure the big things consumed me, but with Dean, it’s all the little things instead.
His laughter that feels like home. A silent moment never being truly silent. His presence causes everything to slow down and make sense. I’ve wanted for so long to be happy, and in a month, I’ve learned that true happiness isn’t loud. It doesn’t knock or announce itself. No, it can tiptoe right in there with a coffee from Noelle’s or by buckling my seat belt. It can be his hand on the small of my back, the way he twirls me on the floor with his eyes locked on mine, or how he is always there to care for me.
I’ve been home a month, and I couldn’t have prepared for him.
And I sure as hell can’t imagine my life without him.
I lean against the island and open our chat.
Thousands of messages stare back at me, and each one fills my cup like nothing else.
With a smile, I type quickly.
Me
When will you be home?
Dean
Around 3, Wagner is in Knoxville with his mom. I told him I’d cover for him, but he says it’s fine and he’ll come back. I’m a bit worried about it, but he’s a man. I can’t tell him what to do.
My heart swells. God, he’s so good.
Me
I miss you.
Dean
Oh, my darlin’, I stay missing you.
