Page 51 of Cherry Picked
It might have been the first time he hummed along while I sang in the kitchen long after the diner had closed or one of the times I saw his head thrown back in the sunshine, cheeks rosy from a hike, burning with life like a candle flame.
It might have happened in the middle of an afternoon he’d spent sprawled on the rug in my mom’s living room, holding a very serious conversation with her about worsted-weight yarn while Peony chewed the hem of his pants and he pretended not to notice, or the time I’d teased him about reading too much Jane Austen and he’d retaliated in true smart-ass, book-nerd fashion by answering meonlyinPride and Prejudicequotes for an entire day.
Or… maybe it had grown so gradually that there was no way to say exactly when it happened, like slipping from wakefulness into a really beautiful dream.
I could tell you the moment IrealizedI’d fallen, though.
It was the first time I heard my name on Hawk Sunday’s lips as he came. While he was still gasping through his orgasm, the thought popped into my head:I am utterly and completely his. That’s it. Forever. So what the fuck am I doing?
That moment of enlightenment—me, covered in spunk and shaking from the most intense orgasm of my life, him breathing heavily in his tent just inches away—did not feel at all like the sweet, sappy, blossoming-flower transformation I’d always imagined love was for the few people lucky enough to find it. This was more like an earthquake—sudden and terrifying and inescapable, tearing down all the pretty walls I’d built to protect myself in one fell swoop.
And in the aftermath, as I lay awake, staring at the darkness and listening to the relentless rain, picking my way through the rubble in my brain felt a bit like an archaeological expedition—probably a lot like the ones where historians took a second look at some pottery shards depicting Achilles and Patroclus, and said, “I can’t believe anyone thought they werejust friends.”
Once I let myself look, my true feelings for Hawk were as obvious as gravity. They showed in the way I never wanted to be apart from him. The way I wanted to hear every single thing he had to say. They were there in the way his smile brightened my day and the way the idea of him being with anyone else—whether it was Simon or some random app hookup—made me lose all capacity for logic. It was even there in the way I hadn’t dated anyone, even my usual fun-and-sex dating, inmonthsand claimed it was because the men I hooked up with didn’t “fit” in my life.
Of course they didn’t. I already had Hawk.
I’d avoided relationships my whole life after watching my mom’s heart break when we lost my dad, and every friend who’d ever been through a shit breakup or a devastating divorce had just cemented the fact in my mind: relationships were complicated, and got fucked up, and ended in disaster and heartbreak, always.
But somehow… I’d found myself smack in the middle of one anyway. And with every scared, hurtful word that fell out of my mouth,Iwas the one making it complicated.Iwas the one fucking it up.Iwas the one breaking my own heart… and Hawk’s… in some misguided attempt to protect us.
Hadn’t I told Hawk just the other day, during our last disastrous discussion about the Aerie Resort, that he couldn’t keep things the way they were indefinitely because he was scared something bad could happen?
Maybe it was time I took my own damn advice.
After I cleaned myself off, I waited for Hawk to say something, but he remained silent as his breathing evened out.
I couldn’t blame him. He’d put himself out theretwice, and I’d shot him down. No wonder he didn’t have anything to say to me. No wonder he wanted his privacy.
By the time I got up the nerve to flip on the lantern and open the tent to talk to him, he was snoring lightly with only his messy curls poking out of the top of his sleeping bag.
I sat there for a few minutes, looking at Hawk’s face relaxed in sleep. He was so sexy, so beautiful, so mind-blowinglyminemy breath froze in my lungs from the shock of it.
“I want you,” I breathed, feeling my chest loosen just from admitting the words out loud, even though he wasn’t awake to hear them. “More than anything.”
How could I have him without disappointing him? I wasn’t Fitzwilliam Darcy with ten thousand pounds a year and a giant fancy estate. I was a multi-thousandaire on a good month, struggling to save for retirement while making payroll.
I was no broody Prince Charming, capable of sitting around all day making dreamy eyes at Hawk from across a crowded room. I was a chronic workaholic and serial overthinker.
And I wasn’t some noble guy with a brain full of heartfelt, sentimental words and grand gestures. I was… apple grilled cheese, snarky comments, and sweaty hikes.
I didn’t know if that—me—was enough.
I leaned over and pressed a kiss to his curls.
“Love you,” I breathed into the woodsy scent of him. “So much.”
Without giving myself a chance to overthink it for once, I hauled my sleeping bag into the tent, zipped the door closed, and turned off the lantern before moving close to Hawk. We’d spent many nights sharing each other’s warmth like this in his tent, and I wasn’t about to stop now.
Especially when I had important things to say to him first thing in the morning.
* * *
I woke to the sound of a muffled gasp and felt my lips turn up instinctively when I remembered who I was sleeping next to… and why. My stomach was full of knots, but my heart was full of hope.
“Hey,” I said, rolling over. Hawk’s brown eyes were huge in the dim light coming through the cave opening and kept winging from me to the tent door and back, like he was trying to figure out how he felt about seeing me lying next to him. “Can we… talk?”
Hawk’s eyes widened even more, wary now. “Talk?” he repeated, voice rough with sleep.
