was me?
Warmth filled my chest—relief, it was relief, just a little bit of it; I could admit it—as I gave him another little smile, a hesitant one if I was going to be honest with myself. “Yep” was all I gave him, mostly because it was all I could. Okay, all I would.
Zachary James Travis’s—professional quarterback and my old friend—mouth fell right open, showing me all those white, perfect teeth before the hand he had beside my lip fell away, and the next thing I knew, he was shaking his head and stating loudly, definitely freaking surprised, “You’re shittin’ me.”
I shook my head in return.
Apparently that response was all he needed, because before I could do or say anything else, Zac took a step forward and, in the blink of a freaking eye, that six-foot-three body was there. Right in my face.
Right in my face and then lifting me up into a hug that had my toes leaving the ground in the time it took me to blink as he said, loud and in what really did seem like he was overwhelmed, “I can’t believe it,” as he hugged me so tightly to him, to that big, hard frame, so close.
A few years ago, that would have instantly eased most of the tension in my body.
He did remember me.
He was happy to see me.
And I wasn’t going to cry because he hadn’t totally forgotten me. Or that he wasn’t all blasé about seeing me after so long either. I wasn’t.
But I didn’t totally relax. Because it had been almost a decade, and because even though I understood that he was busy and had hundreds of people who wanted something from him, it didn’t erase the hurt from before. It didn’t wipe out the memories of staring at my phone and wondering what I had done wrong to make him not want to be my friend after so long.
I wasn’t scraps. I had a life too. A life I had worked my ass off for. I had people who cared and loved me for a reason, because I’d earned it. I thought I was a decent person, most of the time.
And regardless of all that, ignoring the fine fracture of pain I still felt, I still loved him. Not for a second had I ever not wanted the best for him. There hadn’t been a moment in my life that I hadn’t rooted for him despite him outgrowing me and then leaving me in the past.
He was happy to see me right then, and I’d take it.
I lifted my arms and wrapped them around his neck and hugged that long body back, tightly for all of a second, like I had missed the hell out of him. Because I had. Just for a moment, I pressed my forehead against a spot along his warm, smooth neck.
There was no harm in that. I used to hug the shit out of him all the time.
I wasn’t going to think about why we hadn’t seen each other in so long. I wasn’t going to be sad that it might be another ten years before we saw each other again after this. At least I wouldn’t be sad for one more minute.
After this hug and after what I needed to do, life could go back to normal.
“I can’t believe it’s you, Peewee,” Zac Travis pretty much whispered with that still surprised voice, the Texas accent he’d inherited from spending so much time with his Paw-Paw, thick and sweet. He held me so tight and high, I could barely touch the ground. And I’d be a goddamn liar if I said I didn’t notice how hard and muscular his chest felt pressed up against me.
One of those long arms loosened, and what had to be his palm cupped the back of my head in a gesture that surprised me even more as his rich and familiar laughter filled the ear closest to his mouth. “I cannot fuckin’ believe it.”
I couldn’t help but smile a little against his cheek, still right there in those final moments I was giving myself to soak up his attention after so long, right against the chest I’d seen bare countless times before he’d had any hair on it, and let myself savor his unexpected joy.
When he lowered me enough so I could touch the ground again flat-footed, I looked at him, still smiling. Feeling happy and surprised too.
Relieved.
The handsome man I’d been in love with when I’d been younger and dumber