Wrecking Ball (Hard to Love 1)

I push his jacket off his broad shoulders and he sighs. I unbutton his shirt and pull it out of his pants and he lets out a relaxed breath. Meanwhile, I’m frigging sweating bullets. Sweating bullets. Every delicious square inch of skin I reveal makes me warmer and warmer. It feels like I’m being slow roasted over a spit of hot ass man. When I take his shirt off, his eyes slow blink open. There’s no heat in his gaze. Just… gratitude.

Jezuz, I’m an idiot.

He really isn’t attracted to me. He’s tired and I’m his friend, someone he trusts not to maul him. And here I am getting all hot and bothered.

“Thanks, Cam. I can handle the rest,” he mumbles.

Of course, he can. Because this attraction is a one way street––a dead end street.

The slow rock of the hammock and the canopy of stars blinking brightly in the clear night sky all make for a ridiculously romantic scene––minus the romance of course. My thoughts drift to Matt and I’m surprised to find that I don’t feel the familiar pang of pain that usually grips my chest, only a slight soreness. The letter has definitely moved things into a different space, both in my head and my heart. One step closer to closure.

“What are you doing out here?”

“Agghh! You scared the shit out me!” I jerk up and the hammock almost dumps me on the ground.

Out of the darkness, I watch him saunter up to the second hammock dressed only in a pair of shorts––with nothing underneath I suspect, though I keep that to myself because really, what difference would it make at this point. He throws himself down in it, the wood creaking loudly.

“It’s a wonder how that oak hasn’t come down yet,” I say, glancing up at the massive tree.

For this, I get one of his lazy smiles. Then he tucks his hands behind his head and his biceps pop out. He’s so damn handsome it’s a crime against every straight woman that lays eyes on him and isn’t allowed to touch. And I’m suddenly afraid that I may do or say something wildly inappropriate, so I don’t let that thought settle for long.

“Shouldn’t you be asleep?”

Why did I mention sleep? Because I’m an idiot, that’s why. My mind instantly conjures images of us tangled up in my bed, his nose buried in my hair, his groin smashed up against my rear end…and now I’m sweating. It’s cool out and I’m sweating bullets.

Note to self: invest in clinical strength deodorant.

“I’m only playing a couple of snaps tomorrow. What are you still doing up?” He inspects my face closely. “The letter?”

“That and the fact that I need to come up with a plan for the rest of my life…Amanda will be here soon.”

He watches me thoughtfully. The silence stretches on. We both rock back and forth, the creaking of the wood soothing my nerves. This easy comfort between us is addicting. I can’t relax into it. I can’t because I’m drawn to it like a fly to shit. And if I’m not vigilant, if I let my guard down, it could get out of hand real quick.

“You’re still in love with him?”

I almost fall out of the hammock. Wow. He’s just dropped the bomb on me, the million dollar question that not even Amber has the courage to ask.

Am I still in love with Matt? I’m surprised at how quickly the answer pops into my head. I’ve done my best not to think about it much. Mostly because for so long I couldn’t think about him without letting all the extenuating circumstances taint my feelings. And yet it’s true what they say about time and distance lending perspective. For the first time since the police knocked on my door, the thought of Matt isn’t clouded by the pain of his betrayal.

“Not anymore,” I say to the man brave enough to ask. The Christmas lights wrapped around the oak offer only the dimmest of light. Even so, I can see his alert gaze is on me. Sometimes it feels like those eyes could pry every truth out of me if he were to set his mind to it. “I’m different…and I’ve had enough time to come to terms with the fact that he wasn’t the man I thought he was. The man I loved didn’t exist…it’s not all his fault though. I chose to ignore the parts of him that didn’t suit my narrative.” He nods in understanding. He, more than anyone, knows what I mean. “Do you miss it? Being married?”

His scrutiny moves away from me. “I’m fine by myself.”

“You don’t say.” I don’t even bother to hide the eye roll.

“What about you?”

“Yeah…I want kids. I want a family. But I want something different next time. And I’ll definitely have my own money.” His face screws up into the most ridiculous scowl. “What’s that about?” I say, half laughing at his weird reaction.