Let the world wait so I can breathe her in a few more seconds.
I nod before it can go any further.“Go.”
She turns toward Blane, ponytail swaying, and I watch for far too long before I sink onto the bench.I pull out my phone while they’re occupied and read Erica’s messages again.The words sit the same way they did the first time—a fucking hand around my throat.
I should leave her on read because part of me knows exactly where this goes.But that’s never been something I’m capable of.I face things head on.And underneath the knowing is the quieter, more dangerous hope—maybe this time is different.Maybe she’s healthy.My thumbs move.
Me: You sober?
The dots appear immediately.That alone tells me everything.
Rickie: Please.I want to come home.
Something heavy settles in my chest, not quite grief, not quite anger.Somewhere in the bruised territory between them, long enough to call up the reminder of every time I said yes when I should have said nothing at all.
Then I type the only thing that’s true.
Me: I can’t help you.
Blane cuts in again.“Coach, can we get a shot of something different?Something iconic.”
My brow lifts.The guy is determined to test my patience.“Define iconic.”
“Couple shots out front.School behind you.Locals eat that stuff up.”
I snort—iconic, my ass—and Grace rolls her eyes.“Ignore how over the top he is but let me have this.You’re impossible to capture when you’re moving.”
Her ask loosens something in my chest.“Fine.”
We head outside, and Blane positions me so the school looms behind.Thankfully, he works fast because the air cools as the sun drops, brushing my skin with the first bite of evening.
The cold kisses color into Grace’s cheeks, hair brushing her jaw, and when her eyes find mine, they take something with them—my balance, my resolve, the careful distance I’ve been maintaining like it was keeping me alive.
Maybe it was.
Erica’s texts sit like a stone in still water, rippling outward into everything.And somewhere in the middle of reading it—in the middle of recognizing the gravity of it all over again—something shifted.Realigned.Because that’s what Erica always was: A warning I kept ignoring until it cost too much.
I don’t want to ignore warnings anymore, but I don’t want to waste what’s right in front of me either.
I want Grace.
Foolish—maybe.
Selfish—definitely.
Not forever, not a promise.I’m not built for those right now, and she deserves better than a man still figuring out if he is.Butnow.This.
It’s a cliché.Life is short, take what’s real while you have it.But clichés exist because they’re true, and right now, watching her eyes find mine like they keep doing without her permission, I’m done arguing with the truth.
“That’s a wrap.”Blane slaps the cap onto his camera.“I’ve got to get back and unload these before my storage situation becomes a crime scene.”
He strides toward the parking lot, and Grace falls in beside me.Her arm brushes mine as she digs for her keys, a small, inadvertent graze that lands harder than it should.
I clear my throat.“You hungry?”
“Maybe.”
I drag a hand across the back of my neck, aiming for casual even though nothing about this feels casual.“There’s a place.Good food.Close by.”