Page 65 of Redemption
MJ notices and eyes me warily.
“What?”
Shrugging, I look out over the football field. “I don’t know—it’s just this. I’ve missed your wit when it’s not directed toward me.”
Her smile turns brighter, and with it, my heart stutters in my chest. When she smiles like that, it makes it hard to breathe. “I always knew you loved my sparkling personality.”
I chuckle. “Yeah, MJ, I did.
There’s a pause, and even though I know I should keep my mouth shut and let us have this one moment, then move on—I can’t stop myself from asking, “Do you think we could ever be friends again?”
Her smile fades, and I wish I’d kept my mouth shut. “I don’t know, Hayes. Sometimes, I wish we could, but then I think about all the history between us. I think it would slowly kill me to be your friend.”
My body is stiff as I try not to rub at my chest. A knife stabbing me might have hurt less.
I tilt my lips in a smile that I hope she doesn’t look too closely at. “Do you think we could at least not be enemies anymore? I don’t know how many more injuries I can take from you.”
Both physical and mental.
With a shove at my arm, she rolls her eyes. “How about this—let’s agree to a truce while we figure things out with Tanner. After that, we’ll take it one day at a time.”
I force my lips higher. “Yeah, MJ. I think I can handle that.”
Even if it kills me.
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“Go away, Hayes,” MJ says, stopping in the middle of the sidewalk and swinging around to face me. The motion is so abrupt that I nearly run her over. I have to grab onto her arms to keep us both from slamming to the ground.
After Tanner and his dysfunctional family left, I walked MJ to her car, making small talk to ward off the thickening worry on her shoulders. In an effort to keep our truce—or at least that’s the excuse I’m going with—I’d asked her about her plans for the rest of the day.
I hadn’t expected her to say house hunting, and before I knew what was coming out of my mouth, I’d offered to go with her. She declined, but I didn’t miss the flash of loneliness on her face.
She tries to hide it, but MJ’s emotions are like an open book—or maybe I’ve just spent most of my life studying her.
So even though she declined, I threw her over my shoulder and put her in my truck. I shouldn’t enjoy the squeal she lets out every time I do that, but I do—and now I keep making a habit of it.
She kept insisting that she could do this alone, but if Langston were here, he wouldn’t let her, and neither will I.
“Are you listening to me?” she says, waving her hand in front of my face. “Go away.”
MJ puts her hands on her hips and glares at me, but I just grin, letting it seep under her skin and annoy her.
I can’t lie. I’ve missed this.
She’s always beautiful, but man, it’s a different kind of beautiful when she’s ready to knock me down a peg.
Leaning down so our cheeks are pressed together, I whisper. “Not happening, MJ.”
Then I pull back with a grin that I know makes her see red. Just because we are calling a truce doesn’t mean I can’t still enjoy getting under her skin.
Her hands fly to her hips, and her glare is enough to make me take a step back out of precaution for my nose. My hands fly up to cover just for extra protection.
I can finally breathe out of it.
Her glare turns icy.
“I’m not going to hit you, Hayes Miller. Stop acting like that.”
