going down in the same way they had back when I’d told him about Paw-Paw, like just, down and sad and unsure.
And honestly, I hated it.
“No wonder you look at me like that,” he stated quietly.
My heartbeat was in my throat, but I asked anyway, knowing I shouldn’t, knowing it was mean to make him feel worse. “Like how?”
His Adam’s apple bobbed. “All nice like a stranger. Jokin’ with me and then rememberin’ that you don’t wanna do that.” Zac looked away for a moment. “I missed ten years of your life, kiddo. I didn’t even recognize you at first. I didn’t think I could feel like more of a piece of shit than I did that other night, but I do.”
He had missed ten years, but I’d missed ten years out of his too.
And that had been my choice.
I sighed and took a step closer to him, closer to that tall, lean body that I was sure had to be a wallpaper on hundreds of women’s cell phones. To that face that really did deserve to be on the cover of magazines far more often. I reached over to grab his warm forearm and said, “I could’ve reached out to you too, but my feelings were hurt.” It was the truth. But I didn’t want him to focus on that too much. “I’m sorry, Zac. I honestly thought you just didn’t want me around anymore.” That was the truth too, even more so than my first statement, and that was enough drama for me. Enough sadness. I didn’t want to talk about the other shit; this was exhausting enough. And there was even less of a point in bringing that up than this.
I knew that.
So I gave him more of my honesty. I gave him a tiny piece of me that I knew I’d been suppressing around him. For my safety. “I missed your big, dumb face too, Snack Pack.”
His eyes widened. Those dark, nearly blond eyelashes fell slowly over them. And that mouth of his parted slightly.
In surprise?
I gave him a little smile in return. A smile that I wanted to be bigger, but I was holding onto it for a second longer. To make sure. To not overstep myself.
And then he blinked and gave me a little piece of himself too.
“You coulda just said ‘dumb face.’ You know I’m sensitive about my big head,” Zac deadpanned, quietly, almost hesitant.
I couldn’t help it; I nodded at him. “You grew into your big head, if that makes you feel any better.”
His mouth quirked just a little bit more. “It does. Thank you, darlin’.”
My grin went wide despite the warning alarms going off in my head that tried to remind me of what this was, of what my expectations should be.
But Zac’s smile was like one of those slow-motion blossoming flowers on the nature channel.
I only partially hated myself for loving it—not because I loved him like that, but because I still cared so much. And sometimes it was easier not to care about people—at least people who weren’t as invested in you as you were in them.
“We can be friends when we both have time, if that works for you,” I told him gently, trying to give him a smile. “Because I wasn’t kidding about your big head.”
Something in him faltered for a moment—it was in his eyes, I could see it—but a split second later, he opened his arms.
I took the step into them. As an adult, as grown-up Bianca.
He drew me into him, into his chest, into his life, I guess.
Zac Travis hugged me and said, “I sure did miss you, Little Texas.”
Something in me unraveled at the name he hadn’t used in so long.
In so, so long.
With my cheek against his chest, I told him the truth. “I really missed you too, Big Texas.”
Chapter Ten
What had to be one of his million-dollar hands palmed the back of my head, and I liked it. I liked it a lot. “Ah, honey. It’s gonna take some time for my heart not to be crushed that you didn’t want me to know we live so close to each other.”
I pulled back a little, taking in that blond and light brown dusted chin and lifted my index finger. I booped him on the nose, just like old times, and I wasn’t surprised that it didn’t feel wrong. I still did it to Boogie, Connie, and my niece and nephew.
I kept on telling him the truth. “I just didn’t want to