I can see them, brutally clear, even if he doesn’t voice them aloud.
Do you really want to know?
Why should I tell you? We’re less than friends these days.
Can I really share this with you, or will you turn your anger back on me? Because I really can’t handle much more grief these days.
I reach out to him, placing my hand on his thigh and giving it a pat. There’s nothing sexual about the gesture, but I hope the solid warmth of my touch, and the fact that I don’t hesitate to reach out to him means that he can trust me with his sorrows.
“Lay it on me, Rafe,” I murmur quietly. “I know you can’t burden your mom. I know it’s hard to talk to your dad. I’m here, and I’m listening.”
Rafe physically deflates, his posture sagging as he cradles his beer bottle between his legs and stares at it. He doesn’t look my way, but his words are only for me. “I feel hopeless. Out of control.”
The power of his admission humbles me. I know Rafe as well as anyone, and he’s a strong, proud man. He never admits to weakness, always stoically carrying whatever burden is on his shoulders. Even back when we were together, he didn’t show his vulnerability to me because he didn’t want to weigh me down.
That he’s actually sharing with me now causes a shift within me that feels like loose sand on a beach dune.
He’s actually sliced himself open to let me see a part of him that, no matter how close we were before, I’d never been given the privilege of observing.
The fact that he’s doing so now causes more of the walls I erected to crumble, revealing more of my current self to him as well. It’s like peeling away a protective hide, leaving me raw and exposed.
I swallow past the lump of emotion in my throat and try to give him the best advice I can. “I expect that’s normal given your situation. And I expect there’s no easy fix. I don’t think you really need me telling you this, but I’ll say it anyway. You need to make the most of what time you have left.”
His gaze comes to me slowly.
Painfully.
The naked grief in his eyes touches me so deeply, I lean into him. “You’ve got this, Rafe. I’ll help you through it.”
“Why would you?” His disbelief is evident. It’s warranted, as well.
“Because, no matter what, I guess I still care about you. And I care deeply for your parents. You know that’s never changed. Let me be here for you. You only have to tell me what you need, and I’ll give it.”
I’m not prepared for the flash of heat in his eyes, nor am I ready for the way my blood quickens from it.
“I need to feel something more than grief and sadness,” he says bluntly. And then with challenge in his tone, he adds, “That may be the beer talking.”
My mouth curves into an unbidden smile. Rafe’s wit has always been effortless, his charm foolproof. It makes me want to play along, and that’s probably the beer talking on my part.
Surely a kiss couldn’t hurt, though. Take his mind off his problems for a bit. And it’s practically a harmless gesture. It’s not like we haven’t kissed before, and we both know that it won’t go anywhere past a mere touching of our lips.
But as I lean farther into him, I know that’s likely the biggest lie I’ve ever told myself.Chapter 7RafeThe past eight years of my life melt away when Calliope’s lips touch mine.
Gone.
My entire professional hockey career fades.
The women I’ve dated over time...faceless.
The money I’ve made, unimportant.
Fuck, I’d forgotten how good she tastes. Her tongue touches mine, and when an electric surge of longing pulses through me, I realize we are in dangerous territory. Calliope has no clue that I’ve carried an agonizing torch of desire for my first true love all these years. She can’t understand the depth of my feelings, and if I don’t draw away now, this could be disastrous.
She’ll never accept the truth.
I pull away, my eyes immediately taking her in.
I see eyes half-closed, a small smile playing on her mouth, and a tiny exhale of something that I can’t quite put my finger on.
Disappointment?
Regret?
Her eyelids flutter open, and her hazel-green eyes stare at me. Confusion sets in. “What’s wrong?”
Only about a million things.
“I don’t want to take advantage of you,” I reply.
Her chin jerks, and by the expression on her face, I can tell that thought never crossed her mind. Still, I hold her gaze.
Calliope, never one to back down, returns the look just as steadily. Finally, she says, “I know I shouldn’t even be attracted to you after...”
Her words crumble, drift away. And yet, she doesn’t drop her gaze from mine. She inhales a fortifying breath and then lets it out slowly. “I hated you for a very long time. And I’m ashamed of that because I was raised to never hate. But you hurt me so badly, and I went years without knowing what was so wrong with me that—”