Everything About You

“But please don’t make me wait too long,” I whispered to my empty apartment.

Tate (Now)

Like the other two times I met Roe on the rooftop—one planned, one not—I dropped to my knees to wait.

And wait.

I had grabbed one of the lounger cushions this time and placed it under my knees. Yes, I only recently turned thirty-five but my knees and the pool were two of the reasons I sublet an apartment in this building. I hadn’t run in a few years because of them. Swimming was easier on the joints than running and right now I couldn’t afford both rent and a gym membership.

Ronan and I had run together all the time in college. I continued for a while after that to stay in shape until it began to take a toll. The last two times I was on my knees at his feet I had to hide the discomfort from my face.

It was also why last time I had chosen to kneel under one of the pergolas. The wood was slightly easier on my knees than the concrete.

But if Ronan asked, I would kneel on the damn concrete until my knees bled. And then I’d keep kneeling even longer.

Whatever he wanted, I was willing to give him.

All I asked from him was his forgiveness.

I wanted Dahlia’s, too. But that was a whole other painful situation in itself.

I had a lot of work to do. Not only on myself but with my relationships. Even so, I was determined to get it done.

I refused to bow my head this time when the side door opened. I was curious to why Ronan always used a different, unmarked entrance. Was there a back way up to the roof? A service entrance maybe?

Right now that wasn’t important. What was important was the man coming through that door with his dark brown eyes locked on me as he strode across the roof to where I waited.

I couldn’t look away if I tried. As always, he stole my breath just the same as he’d stolen my heart.

He was so much broader than when he was in college. Muscular. Mature. He had aged well.

I didn’t know the extent of his tattoos, but figured he had a lot more than what I could see. From what I could see, his left arm was a complete sleeve. And sometimes when his shirt sleeve pulled up as he walked, I got a peek of more on his right bicep. Possibly a quarter sleeve.

How many more did he have hidden?

Seeing that body ink drove home how far he had come from being a college student. Ronan was now a man.

Even his stride was determined as he took his time closing the distance between us.

Back in school, we had worked on our physique together. But now, he clearly had taken it farther than the average person.

Every sculpted inch of him was solid. Powerful. His waist was trim, his thighs thick, his biceps bulging. His neck corded.

He had even grown facial hair. A goatee of sorts. In college, he had given it a shot and it ended up being sparse and splotchy, so he shaved it all off. Especially after I teased him about it and even went so far as to brag about how I could grow a thick beard my senior year in high school to bust his balls.

For a moment, the memory of his laughter that day filled my ears.

Tonight, he wasn’t laughing. He wasn’t even smiling.

I would give anything to see it again.

Absolutely anything.

I fell in love with his smile before I realized I was in love with the man it belonged to.

He stopped in front of me, his face an unreadable mask.

“Roe…”

His gaze raked me from my head to my bent knees. “You’re fully dressed.”

“I didn’t come up here for sex.”

His dark eyebrows pinched together. “Then why the hell did you message me?”

“I was hoping for a chance to talk.”

“About?”

He was purposely being obtuse. No surprise that he would make me work for it.

Little did he know I was willing to do that. I was willing to do more than work for it. I was willing to fight for us.

No matter what it took, I wanted a second chance.

A chance to heal the break.

Even if it was a slow and painful road to travel.

Even if I had to get on my knees every damn night.

If I had to beg for his forgiveness.

Seeing him that first time downstairs had cracked me open all over again. I know it did the same for him, so I hoped he’d give me the opportunity to repair that crack. Maybe even fix it to the point it would be unbreakable.

But I wasn’t foolish enough to think it would happen tonight.

Or tomorrow.

Or even next week.

It would take time and patience. It also might hurt along the way.