“I’m not upset.” His still-pale face is earnest.
“Are you sure you aren’t? You’re gonna have to come and visit in your private jet now.”
He shuts his eyes—well, eye—and lets a breath out. Then he looks back at me. “I can do that. I’m not tied down like I was before.”
“I’m surprised you did that. Just a little. But I’m happy if it’s good for you.”
“I think it was the weekend with you.” He looks almost shy as he confesses that. “I told you about building the tables. After that, I couldn’t stop thinking about it. I thought about doing the woodwork while working on the startup, but there’s never any extra time. I get this weird thing—from my mom,” he adds softly. “My mom was an orthopedic surgeon. How I knew what not to do for your ankle.” He taps his head. “Anyway, her hands shook when she got tired. Notable trait for a surgeon. Well, mine do too.”
“So you’re saying you would be too tired from the long hours in the office to do woodworking effectively?”
He nods. “Working on a startup is consuming. Just the nature of the beast.”
“You got tired of being consumed?” I give him a soft smile.
He looks down again before meeting my eyes. “I kept thinking about you. And how you were always going to be there, with Margot and Oliver. Just one plane ride away.”
I snort. “Don’t tell me you wanted to see me. We both know that’s baloney.”
He leans closer to me, so close I can see him swallow. “I think we’re both fans of bologna.” His lips brush mine gently. “I did want to see you. More than anything.” He swallows hard and looks down. Then his eyes are on mine, and they’re pooling. “I’m in love with you, Gryff. But the fact remains…” He gives a light shake of his head. “Look at what I came from. The kids were left to you. Asher didn’t trust me. He thought I wouldn’t be good for them.” His voice thickens on the words.
“Oh, baby, that’s not true. He just knew you worked a ton. And Sutton knew I loved kids and was living in the sticks with a bunch of rednecks on crotch rockets, so she thought I might never find somebody good.”
His eye shuts, and I sit up, wrapping my arms around him. “News flash, Sly—people aren’t their parents. Or their childhood, or their situation.” I rub my hand over his chest. “People are their heart and choices. That’s all there is to it.”
I’m surprised my eyes well up when I look up at him. I’m blaming Peanut. “I’m not gonna lie. It hurt when you Houdini’d. I was upset and confused. It sucked. If you let those things you’re scared about define you, you’ll be right. You won’t be good for anybody. But Sly, what if you don’t?”
He swallows hard, and something like fear flickers through his features. “Even if I don’t, I might always be like this. I can promise I won’t ghost on you again, but Gryff, I’m fucking skittish. I’m going to be so fucking scared of losing you. I already am,” he admits.
“What?” I shake my head and pin him with a WTF look.
He blows a breath out. “Barrel racing isn’t very safe. And don’t some people die in childbirth?”
I blanch. “I hope not!”
“Sorry.” He cringes.
“I don’t think a lot of people die in childbirth, no.” I change positions, moving so I can lie my head in his lap. He frames my face with his hands, and I yawn. “Look, I’m really tired, B. I get tired right after dinner now and need to go to sleep.”
His fingers push their way back into my hair. “Shit. I’m sorry.”
I sit up with a smile. “Just kidding. I am sort of sleepy, but I just wanted to put my head in your lap.” I give him my best side eye. “So are we friends or something? What’s the what? Suspense time’s over.”
“You mean everything to me,” he rasps. “I want to be your friend—more than friends—” he laughs— “for a long time.”
“How much more than friends?” I grin, and he wraps me up against him. “For however much you’ll let me have. I’m telling you, I’m a little fucked up. Sometimes things…” He exhales. “Certain things kind of throw me off.”
“You mean like PTSD?”
“Maybe. That day in the Bean place, with your friend who hugged me? She was wearing my mom’s perfume.” His voice goes ragged on the words, lips tugging downward. “I hadn’t smelled it in a long time. It was weird because I didn’t decide to leave, but I just…did.”
I pull the covers back and motion to the white sheets. “Get in there, and you can tell me what else ails you. Sleeping is one, right?”
He lies back slowly, and I pull the covers fully back then tuck them over him. “I don’t sleep well.”