two.” She steps closer, her voice a low whisper. “You were flirting with him.”
My face heats as I lower my head. “I was not,” I insist, but there’s no conviction in my voice. I was flirting with Drew. I don’t know what came over me. It wasn’t my intention at all. After our near-kiss at the rink yesterday, then Wes’ heartfelt words making the guilt fester inside me, I resolved to do everything in my power to stop thinking of Drew this way. To stop looking at his lips and the way they move every time he speaks. The way his eyes light up every time I walk into a room. The way a charge fills me the instant I inhale his woodsy scent.
But when I walked into his house and overheard the tail end of their conversation, something happened. The way he spoke, the fever, the passion… Part of me is desperate for more of that. The other part reminds me what awaits me on the other side of that passion. Heartache. Confusion. Inadequacy.
“Oh, really?” Molly arches a brow. I scan the rest of the assembled crowd. Gigi wears a similar expression to Molly’s, whereas Leo and Noah seem interested only because their better halves are. Thankfully, Alyssa and Charlotte still play off in the family room, not listening in on our conversation. After their questions Friday night, it would only confuse them.
“Yes. Really.” I straighten my spine, then offer a slight smile. “If you’ll excuse me, I’ll go check to see if he needs any help.” I spin, heading down the hallway where Drew just disappeared.
“Is that what they’re calling it these days?” She laughs. I simply shake my head, not responding. I know how it looks, but I do want to check on Drew, make sure he’s okay, make sure we’re okay. I can’t help but wonder if the hand injury is punishment for failing to reconcile our differences yesterday, as Gigi would probably have us believe.
Just as I approach the open door to the guest bathroom, Drew’s deep voice sounds. “Molly, I’m not in the mood for your snarky comments or crazy theories about why I broke a wine glass. It was just an accident.”
My lips curve and I lean on the doorframe, crossing my arms over my chest. “Really?”
Once he hears my voice, he flings his eyes toward me. They’re wide, shocked, flustered. I chew on my bottom lip, the mere sight of him sending my heart into overdrive. The tension between us mounts as we simply stare at each other. He’s nervous. Much more nervous than I ever remember him being around me. It’s adorable and chips away at the ice his past actions have built around my heart.
When the strain becomes almost unbearable, I burst into a hearty laugh. God, it feels good. I can’t remember the last time I’ve laughed this hard, this full-belly, gut-wrenching laugh that gives my abs a workout. Wes has certainly never made me laugh like this, never made me smile like this. And I want to laugh again, smile again. That should be the only clue I need to tell me maybe I’m jumping into things with Wes too quickly. But as I meet Drew’s eyes, ones that have only disappointed me in the past, I’m reminded exactly why I chose Wes. How can I ever learn to fully trust Drew when I’m still coughing up water from the last time he allowed me to sink below the surface?
Reaching for his hand, I grab a cotton ball from one of the canisters on the counter and dab at the blood. “I shouldn’t laugh, but it was kind of funny.” I lift my eyes to his. “I like to think it was karma paying you back for making me put on a pair of skates.”
I rub a little antibacterial ointment over the wounds, making Drew wince in pain. It’s endearing to know he’s not this macho man, unaffected by anything. But I’ve always known this. Drew’s suffered innumerable injuries during his hockey career. I was often there to tend to his wounds then, even when we were kids. But it never felt like this, not that I can remember. Something about taking care of him now, of the heat in his eyes as he watches my every move, makes me want to forget the past.
My cheeks flush as I attend to his cuts, placing gauze over his palm and wrapping it. The feel of his hand in mine