Page 112 of The Way We Touch

I tighten my arms around his neck, nestling my face against his, and with a deep exhale, his muscles relax. My heart breaks, and heat floods my eyes. For several moments, we simply hold each other. Our hearts beat in time, and I thread my fingers in his soft hair.

Turning my face, I kiss the side of his jaw, and his arms relax, allowing me to sit back on my feet. Holding his hands, I look up at him and smile.

He reaches down to trace the hair off my cheek. “I’d like to go back with you to Newhope, if that’s okay?”

My heart squeezes, and I nod. “I would love that.”

27

Logan

The restaurant isn’t nearly as crowded as usual, which Dylan explains is normal for a football night. Still, a decent-sized group is here, sitting at tables facing the large TVs over the bar.

“The crowd has actually grown since that TMI article. Before that it was just the guys and Allie and me and one or two other people.”

She told me about that, and I really love the way this little village comes together to take care of its own.

When I enter on crutches, they all stand and clap for me, which hits me unexpectedly hard.

An older fellow gently pats my shoulder. “That was the worst thing I’ve seen since Zane’s injury, and his wasn’t intentional.”

His words poke at the anger still simmering in my chest about what happened. I’ll have to train my ass off once I’m back on my feet, and at my age, it’s not a prospect I relish. Then, even with all the training, there’s no guarantee I’ll ever see the stats I was racking up this season.

“Thank you.” Is the best I can manage.

I make my way to the table where Jack and Zane have a front-row seat to the enormous, center flatscreen behind the bar.

Salina moves through the room taking care of the customers, and I look for Dylan. I find her wearing my jersey, but she’s sitting in a chair behind a column several feet away in the middle of the restaurant.

Allie sits beside her, but she’s not hidden.

I turn and crutch over to them. “What are you two doing back here?”

Dylan hops up and carefully holds my shoulders to give me a kiss on the cheek. “You sit up there with Jack and Zane. I do better watching from back here.”

My brow furrows, and I glance at Allie, who shrugs. “She does it every week.”

“Every week?” My eyebrows rise.

“Sometimes she goes to the kitchen to watch with Thomas.”

“Why does Thomas watch in the kitchen?” I take a step back, glancing through the open door.

Sure enough, Thomas is on a stool in front of the metal table with his arms crossed. A small, black-and-white TV with rabbit ears is in front of him.

“He’s superstitious,” Dylan explains. “But sometimes it’s easier to watch on the small screen than up there, where it’s all… in your face.”

Leaning one of my crutches against the column, I hop over and grab a chair from an empty table, putting it beside my girl. “I’ll sit right here with you.”

Allie smiles warmly and hops up. “I’ll grab us all a beer.”

She disappears, and I reach over to cover Dylan’s twisting fingers with my hand. The leather bracelet is on her wrist, and her eyes are in her lap.

“You did this for me every week?”

Lifting her pretty, pretty eyes to mine, she blinks a few times. “It was important to you, and I want to support you.”

I can’t find a way to say how much it both aches and warms me to know she was here, doing her best for me. At the same time, I file it away along with all the other things going through my mind these days as I contemplate our future.

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