“They were leaving when I got here. They said they were going to stay with friends for a few days until the hyenas leave.”
For the best. I don’t know if Igor feels the same way Mike does, but I don’t give a fuck. I don’t need more bullshit right now.
“You hungry?” I say, going to my all-brown kitchen. “I can fix us some sandwiches, or I think I have a frozen pizza.”
Lara stands in the kitchen doorway. “No, thanks. I’m not hungry. But, hey, are you going to practice tonight?”
Coach and I didn’t talk about it, but I’m one hundred percent sure he knows I’m not coming since I’ll be here waiting to get Fia back. “No. Why?”
Her eyes dart away.
I hope she doesn’t think I let her come over so she could watch the baby. After her confession, I couldn’t do that. But my biggest worry now is like I said: where does it leave us?
Suddenly, I’m feeling like one of those idiot guys in those romance movies. My insides are all twisted up.
“I wasn’t going to ask you to take care of Fia,” I say, “if that’s what you’re worried about. I heard what you said and—”
“I’m here. I’m trying to deal with my demons. That’s all I really know right now.”
I lean against the counter and gaze into her eyes. “It means a lot to me.”
“It’s not what I promised you—full support—and it really bothers me.”
“Are you kidding, Lara? You think you haven’t done enough?”
“I’m afraid I won’t be able to handle being there when you really need me—at that pivotal moment when you’re questioning keeping Fia or letting her go.”
“I need you now, and you’re here. I’m good with that.”
“Need?” She blinks.
I step toward her, knowing perfectly well how incredibly uncomfortable all this feels. For me and for her. But I want this more than I want comfortable.
“Want,” I say, placing my hands on her waist. “And if you just fought through that swarm of human vultures outside, then I’m hoping you want me back. As more than your friend. Fully committed.”
I wait as she stares up into my eyes.
“Well?” I say, my lips thirsting to kiss her.
“Can I be honest?”
Only if you’re about to say we should get naked. “Of course.”
“No.” She takes a small step back.
I’m confused. “I thought this is what you wanted.” In the parking lot earlier, she pushed back when I made that comment about my thoughts being balanced on a razor-sharp edge. Then she told me about her baby and the pain she’s been going through just to help me out. Why would I want to let a woman like her go?
“Let me rephrase,” she says. “I don’t believe you really want me. I think your life has just been turned on its head, and what you’re really feeling is fear. You need me as a crutch.”
“Don’t tell me how I feel or what I think, Lara.” For example, right now I’m pretty damned sure she’s crazy! Because she’s hot. She’s smart. She’s loyal. There’s insane chemistry—at least on my part. So why wouldn’t I want her?
She sighs, clearly frustrated. “Then explain why, just twenty minutes ago, you said we should see where things go? If you were really into me, Dean, really truly interested, you would have been pushing for something to happen between us.” She throws her hands in the air. “Fuck, Dean! I’ve flirted with you every day the entire summer. You were polite but wouldn’t give me the time of day. These last few days, I’ve been here for you, and—not that I expected anything in return—all I’ve gotten is a slightly warmer version of you. Suddenly, after I tell you about my daughter, of the pain I’ve struggled with just to support you, now you want a relationship. Tell me that’s not messed up, Dean. Tell me it’s not about you waking up and seeing I’m the steady rock you need during the worst storm of your life.”
I frown. “Yes, your confession made me see you differently. But this is not about that.”
She folds her arms over her chest. “You changed what you wanted in less than twenty minutes. Twenty. You went from ‘let’s keep this casual’ to ‘let’s be a couple.’”
“I’ve always been attracted to you,” I say. “Albeit right now I’m questioning that.” For the first damned time in my life, I’ve let myself want a woman. Really want her. I was ready to tear my damned chest open and hand over my heart. And this is how she responds?
“Nice, Dean,” she snaps, her chest rising and falling rapidly with seething breaths.
“No. You’re…nice,” I throw back because, apparently, I’ve decided to behave like a first grader in response to her rejection. “And you want to know what else is nice? That I don’t want to be in a relationship right now. I don’t have the time or the energy to add more plates to my table. But I was willing to try. For you.”