I could feel my heart splintering under the devastation in his expression.
“I’ve been told that sometimes it’s the what-ifs that hurt the most. What haunt us the longest. But there is absolutely no chance you were responsible for her death, Kale. You have to let that go. Live and find joy. Because I promise you, you deserve it, everything life has in store for you.”
He flinched as if he wanted to refute my claim, so I was quick to add, “Believe it. I do.”
He took my hand and pressed his face in to my palm, kissing the flesh before he moved to kiss the inside of my wrist. “Incredible. Told you, Hope. You are incredible. And I don’t know how to make sense of it.”
“Do you want to try?” I asked him. Stepping out, that limb teetering beneath me, threatening to splinter.
And God . . .
The smile he sent me?
It rocked me to the core.
Confidence and naked vulnerability, the contours of his face lit up in the glow of the fading sun.
“I do . . . but the last thing I want to do is fail you. Fail Evan.”
I blinked at him, my chest tightening, and I started to tell him I didn’t think it was possible for him to do that.
Fail us. But then the sizzle and hiss of water boiling over onto the stove hit our ears.
“Shit.” He spun away and rushed that direction. He drove a pasta spoon into the pot, stirring quickly to settle the roil down.
I almost giggled when the sauce started to bubble and spit all over the place.
“Shit,” he said again, this time with an amused huff that came at his expense, his strong back bare as he worked to salvage our dinner.
Cute.
Confident.
Chaos.
He glanced back at me, the heaviness from moments ago gone. “Can’t even get spaghetti right.”
I ignored the questions still looming around us and slid off the counter. I slinked up behind him and pressed a gentle kiss to the warm, bare flesh at the center of his back.
He shuddered, the quiver of an arrow straight through the center of me.
“You are the most incredible man I have ever met, Kale Bryant. I am so sorry you had to go through that. I hate it for you. If I could take it away, I would,” I whispered against his spine, which stiffened the barest fraction.
I knew I needed to give him space, let him process. He had probably shared more with me than he had with anyone in a long, long time. I moved to stand beside him, nudged him with my hip, and sent him a smile. “Here, let me help with that.”
Kale laughed. “What? You don’t trust me in my own kitchen?”
I widened my eyes up at him. “Should I?”
He hesitated for a second before he busted up laughing. “No . . . no, you definitely should not.”
I shot him a grin. “That’s what I thought.” I snagged the spoon from his grip. “Give me that before someone gets hurt.”
He took his turn knocking me with his hip. “Fine. I relinquish these duties. Thinking they’re not so knightly, anyway.”
I gasped a horrified sound that was completely feigned. “And just what is it you’re implying?”
He laughed again. A bellowing sound that came from his belly, making his abdomen ripple and flex. “Absolutely nothing, Princess. Nothing at all.”
I poked him in the side. “I’ll let you off the hook this time. Just because I like you.”
His eyes smoldered when he looked down at me, the edges brimming with something brilliant.
Something beautiful and whole. “You like me, huh, Shortcake?”
I didn’t know why I adored it when he called me that. That coaxing tease that clearly meant so much more.
I kept my focus trained ahead, stirring the noodles, the confession a breath on my tongue. “Yeah, Kale, I like you.”
I think I’m in love with you.
Sitting out on his gorgeous balcony, we shared our meal beneath the blaze of the setting sun. Engines hummed from below and voices carried on the breeze. The Alabama air thick and warm, comforting in a way I didn’t know it could be.
Or maybe it was just Kale.
The man who steadily stole more and more, each laugh and tease and smirk shackling another piece of me.
“That was delicious,” I told him, sitting back in the chair, my stomach so full it was close to painful.
He arched an eyebrow. “And just who are you complimenting?”
A giggle floated out on the air, every shield and guard ripped away, my ribbing so easy. “I was complimenting you, but I guess I really should give the credit where it belongs.”
“Is that so?”
“Mm-hmm,” I drew out.
Flying from his chair, he lunged for me, and I squealed, jumping to my feet and racing through the open doors.
He chased me. And God, I loved it.
Loved it when he caught me from behind. When he lifted me from my feet. When he hugged me against his bare chest.