Then again, it was one thing to do something risky that only caused physical pain. Physical pain you could manage with ice, rest, and anti-inflammatories. It was the other kind of pain, the one that snuck under your skin and settled up in quiet places you didn’t go visit that often, that wasn’t so easy to get over. That was the difference, wasn’t it?
“What are you thinking?”
I glanced up at the intent face focusing on me, and just went for it because why not? Because I was scared of what he’d say? That should make me want to do it more often.
Life was short. You either took what you wanted or you didn’t. You either regretted not doing something or you regretted failing. Not doing something would keep me up at night. But it was failing that I could laugh at eventually and get over.
So I told him, because that was who I was. Who I had always wanted to be. “That I had wished you had liked me more before—”
He groaned. “I did, Lenny. I liked you heaps. I never forgot about you.”
“You didn’t let me finish,” I said. “And that I also really like you, and I was thinking that maybe I shouldn’t, but maybe I should because you might end up breaking my heart, but you might not. What do you think?”
His slow blink had me smiling at him.
“Too blunt, huh?”
His own small smile crept across that handsome, happy face. “Nah, just perfect.” He shook his head, that smile growing. “I won’t be breaking any hearts. You can take my word for it.” He held his hand out toward me. “You ready to go?”
I took it, but I didn’t stop looking at him.
Jonah’s big grin didn’t go anywhere as he picked his daughter up, dodging out of the way of a stray hand aiming straight at his beard to grab it and pull. “Let’s go, yeh? Before my mum comes up?”
I nodded. “Yeah.”
He kept me company as I grabbed a pair of ankle socks and put them on, getting a pair of tennis shoes from the rack in my closet before all three of us headed downstairs. Sarah was still in the kitchen with only Peter that time, and it didn’t take me too long to pack Mo’s backpack with formula, fresh diapers, wipes, and a premade snack because I wasn’t about to lug Grandpa’s homemade food around with me since they were in glass containers.
If Sarah watched me the entire time I got Mo’s stuff together, I ignored her. The person who watched me the closest was Jonah, who looked into the bag, took out his phone, and I bet wrote notes about what was already inside, adding in what else I put in there afterward.
And if my little heart fawned all over him being so… aware… I wasn’t going to fault that bitch either. Meticulousness, giving a shit, that was attractive. Paired up with that body….
I’d swear he had been made to ring every single one of my bells.
This guy who had to fucking leave.
An hour later, after spending all of five minutes pushing Mo on the toddler swing before she started hanging over the edge like she was measuring the distance to the ground for a dive, we loaded her up into her stroller and decided to make a walk out of it.
I’d spotted Jonah and Sarah both taking pictures of Mo on the swing, happy and excited, talking nonstop, and acting like she didn’t have a care in the world.
Because she didn’t.
Because she had people who loved her and would shoulder every burden so she didn’t have to until it was necessary.
I couldn’t help but glance at the person walking right beside me, a big man whose size alone caught the attention of most people we passed by.
That was when he decided to glance down at me, as his mom pushed Mo in the stroller a few feet ahead of us. “What’s that look for?”
“Just admiring the weather,” I lied.
He knew because he made a face.
“You haven’t been here long enough, but this is pretty nice.” Mid-sixties and blue skies? It was.
His hand went to his head, but he didn’t exactly look like he believed me. “What’s it like during the summer?”
Shit. “Hot and a little humid.”
He didn’t even try to keep himself from wrinkling his nose.
“What? New Zealand doesn’t give out pleasant doses of humid air