She put up her hand again. “This is hard for me, Kennedy. Please let me finish?”
My chest sagged as I exhaled. “Okay.”
“You’re right about me. I take chances on people who are going to let me down. I set myself up for failure again and again. Because what if I take a chance on someone who can be trusted and even they let me down? At that point, I have to acknowledge that it’s not them. It’s me. I sabotage life by betting on the wrong things. I know that. But you have to understand that being let down by the wrong people is less painful than being let down by the right ones.”
I sat next to her on the bed and took her hand, but I stayed quiet. She needed to do this.
“I couldn’t bring myself to take a chance on you because since my mom moved away, you’ve been the best part of my life. I was afraid that if I told you how I felt—if I did it the right way—you’d reject me.”
“So you did it the wrong way,” I said quietly.
She nodded. “Impulsiveness is a scapegoat. If I hadn’t shown up naked in your bed. If I’d just told you that I’ve been in love with you since I was fifteen. If I’d told you that no matter where I’ve lived, my relationship with you has been the best part of my life. If I told you that the only place I’ve ever felt safe was in your arms. If I’d said all that and you’d still turned me down…”
Her eyes filled, and I couldn’t handle it anymore. I cupped her face in my hands and kissed her.
One second I was spilling my heart onto the floor, and the next, he was kissing me.
He pressed his mouth against mine as his hand cupped my jaw, and I just sat there stupidly. Not pushing him away but too scared to kiss him back. Slowly he shifted our bodies so he was lowering me onto the bed. He parted my thighs with one of his.
Then he whispered my name against my lips and suddenly the fantasy was real. Hands in his hair, I slipped my tongue into his mouth and tasted him. He tasted like hot coffee and smelled like the boy I loved.
“I feel like I’ve spent half my life talking myself out of kissing you,” he whispered.
I pushed onto my elbows and narrowed my eyes at him. “You could have fooled me.”
He grinned and that little dimple appeared. If he hadn’t already turned every bone in my body to goo, that dimple would have made my knees weak. “I was a teenage boy with a sexy chick sleeping on the other side of his bedroom wall. If you knew how many fantasies your proximity fueled, you’d file a restraining order.”
I bit my lip. It was stupid how much I wanted to hear that. Needed to.
“Then sometimes you’d crawl into bed with me, and all I could do was hold you when I wanted to do so much more.”
“You could have done more,” I whispered, settling back onto his pillow. “I wouldn’t have crawled in if I hadn’t wanted you to.”
“I needed you too much, Bree. You’re the only one who ever really understood me, and I wasn’t going to lose that.” His Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed. “I’m still afraid of losing that, and I panicked yesterday. But today I told Dad and two city council members I was going to try for the NFL.”
“Kennedy.” Something squeezed in my chest. “I know you can do this.”
He shrugged. “Maybe. Or maybe I’ll fall on my ass. But this wise chick I know was right. I have to try now.” He smoothed his thumb over my cheek. “Some decisions don’t need to be analyzed. They’re just right. I love you, Aubree Baxter. Don’t leave me.”
“I’m not going anywhere.” As quickly as the words slipped from my lips, his mouth returned to mine. I loved the taste of him, the weight of his body on mine, the feel of his heat against my skin.
When he broke the kiss, he nuzzled my neck, his beard scraping the tender skin there. “You almost left too soon again,” he murmured against my neck.
“Again?” I asked, my mind fuzzy from his kiss and the feel of his body on mine.
“You left too soon back in October. If we could have talked… I’ve always wanted you, Bree. More than anyone.”
Now it was my turn to kiss him.
One kiss turned into another, and his hands in my hair became his hands under my shirt, and before long it was hours later and we were naked in his bedroom, holding each other as we listened to his parents argue downstairs.
“You never asked him what he wanted,” his mom was saying.
“Of course I did.” His father’s voice boomed through the house. “Why would I do all this if he didn’t want it?”
“Because you want it,” his mom said. “You ever stop to listen to your daughter Gracie when she talks about wanting to be mayor? Or Joy when she talks about working for the company? Your son isn’t the beginning and end of your legacy.”