“I need to go see them. I feel bad for being away so long. It wasn’t fair for me to run away without considering their feelings.”
“They will love that, but they knew you needed space. I can take you tomorrow if you want. You can talk to Mom about a realtor.”
“Thanks, Jamie.”
Christ, what is it about her saying ‘thanks, Jamie’ that hits like a fist and has me wanting to do more—everything—for her? Why does it make me want to pull her to me, and chase away all her bad memories in the bedroom?
Whoa shit, don’t go there, buddy.
She lets loose another heavy sigh. “I’m going to have to stage the place.”
I point to the pizza. “Another slice?”
Her look is almost embarrassed as she puts her hand over her stomach and says, “I probably shouldn’t.”
What the hell?
“Why not?” I question.
“Well, my metabolism isn’t the same as before I had Chase.”
I take that moment to let my gaze take her in, admiring every single inch, from the tip of her head to toes that are curling beneath her. Her long, honey blonde hair is piled haphazardly in a flimsy clip. Many loose strands fall teasingly over her cheeks, and shoulders. My attention drops from her face to her body, to admire her smooth, creamy skin, and plump breasts that are straining behind her Seattle Seahawks T-shirt. She always was a football fan over hockey, but that never stopped her from watching all my games. I turn my attention to yoga pants that showcase plump hips any man would long to sink his teeth into and strong, well-shaped legs that have carried her along in the hardest of situations. Everything about her is beautiful, and admirable. She squirms, uncomfortable under my scrutiny.
“You’re perfect,” I mumble.
I swallow a moan, and berate myself. Shit, she’s always been breathtaking, and the extra weight, which emphasizes all her sexy curves, looks good on her. Damn, good on her. But what the fuck am I doing? The last person I should be admiring or having inappropriate thoughts about is my sister-in-law, no matter what I’ve always felt about her. No, it’s best I stick to puck bunnies. No history. No commitment. No tomorrows.
No pain.
“You can hire out for staging,” I point out, changing the subject before I say or do something stupid.
“Yeah, but I have to deal…”
I lift my head, and drop the rest of my pizza onto my plate, as Chase grows restless in his chair. “I can clear his things out. Donate what I can. Just let me know what you want to keep. I can do that for you, Fallon. I would have done it already, but I just didn’t want to overstep here.”
“I can’t ask you to. It’s not easy for you, either.”
No, but I don’t want easy. I don’t deserve it. “Consider it done.”
“I’ll take a few keepsakes.” She nods and picks a piece of bacon off her pizza and looks a million miles away as she pops it into her mouth. “I’d like to enrol Chase in pre-school a few days a week this summer. I think the interaction would be good for him, and he’s going to need to make friends. Plus, I plan on going back to work.”
“Really?” I ask, surprised. She doesn’t need the money, but maybe she needs work to find herself again. I needed my hockey. Would have been lost without it.
“Yeah, it’s time.”
Chase jumps up and starts running around the kitchen, racing his dinky car over the bottom cupboards.
“Oh, no, it looks like he got his second wind. I need to try to get him to bed now while I still can.”
I stand with her as she chases after her son. “He’s aptly named,” I say, and it brings a smile to her pretty face, a smile that hits like a puck to the jaw. Goddammit, I’m the reason she no longer smiles like that.
“I’ll take care of this pizza and lock up,” I tell her. “You guys both need sleep.”
“So do you.”
I run my fingers through my hair. “Yeah, I do,” I say. I need a lot of things, but no only do I not deserve them, I’m not about to share those thoughts with Fallon. My days of opening up and taking risks are over.
3