Page 13 of Blue Moon Love

All these years later, it still was.

“Ken!” I glanced down at the field and saw Milo on the sidelines shouting up at me. “Mom said you were bringing leftovers!”

“They’re in the car,” I relayed loudly.

The annual football game, which pitted the fire station against the police station, was always entertaining, and I never missed it. But this year, it was especially interesting thanks to the blue-eyed Charlie Hunnam look-alike who I’d met yesterday when I dropped off the food for the fire station.

His name was Jonah Walsh.

After doing a little bit (a lot!) of internet sleuthing, I discovered Jonah was a year older than me, a fourth-round draft pick, played for two pro-NFL teams, and after retiring, he’d done some sideline reporting before returning to his hometown of Parish Creek.

According to news outlets, he’d rekindled his relationship with his high school sweetheart, and the two of them had a four-year-old daughter but were going through a divorce.

Out of all the possible suitors I’d met over the past six months, Jonah had ticked the most boxes. The most relevant of those boxes was that I was attracted to him. In the words of Love Island UK contestant Maura Higgins, he gave me fanny flutters. That sort of physical reaction had only ever happened with Sam.

I was doing my best to play it cool and not stare as Jonah warmed up with my brother, but I had to admit, my eyes kept cutting in his direction.

“Hey,” a deep-voiced greeting sounded beside me.

Before I turned my head, I knew exactly who had ‘heyed’ me. The butterflies in my belly and the hairs standing up at the nape of my neck were both dead giveaways. I closed my eyes, giving myself a millisecond to regain my composure before turning to face Sam with a blank expression. I could not show any weakness; if I did, he’d sense it. He had an unnerving way of reading my mind. Which was why I had to be on guard around him. I couldn’t let him know how I felt about him, now that I’d admitted it to myself. It was fucking exhausting.

I’d been doing a really good job at remaining strong and putting boundaries in place. Well, except this morning when I grabbed his U.S.M.C. hoodie and threw it on. I’d ‘borrowed’ the hoodie he’d gotten in boot camp without asking over a decade ago and never given it back. Whenever I was particularly missing him, feeling sad, confused, or upset, I wore it. It was my adult version of a blankie. Luckily, my winter coat covered it up, so he couldn’t see I was wearing it. If he did, he might want it back, and that was not something I was ready to give up. Especially with all these new boundaries, I needed his hoodie more than ever.

“Hey,” I replied as our eyes met, and his heated stare warmed me from the inside out. If it had been anyone else, I would have sworn that fireworks were exploding between us, but since it was Sam, I knew that any explosions were one-sided and not reciprocated.

My reaction was exactly why I needed to stay strong and hold my ground. It didn’t matter if I hadn’t seen him in an hour, a day, or just a few minutes; every time I did, I erupted with tingles and butterflies. I was coming to learn that my hormones were very loyal and monogamous. If they were reacting like this to Sam, then they would not react like this to another guy like Jonah. I needed them to react this way to Jonah, who was available, attractive, gainfully employed, not afraid of commitment, and, most importantly, seemed interested.

After I left the station yesterday, my brother called me and said that Jonah had asked him about me. Milo told me he’d given Jonah my phone number. He’d yet to reach out, but I had to think that if he was going to go to all the trouble of getting my digits, he was probably going to use them.

“Why didn’t you call me back?” Sam was standing above me, wearing a baseball cap low on his brow. The sun was in my eyes as I looked up at him, so it was difficult for me to read his expression, but he didn’t sound happy.

I shrugged casually. “I figured I’d see you today.”

Sam had called me last night when I was already in bed after he got off his shift. The truth was, I was wide awake but didn’t pick up or return his call because I hadn’t wanted him to pop over, which I knew he would. If he did that, he’d probably ask if I wanted to watch Gremlins, Mannequin, The Goonies, The Breakfast Club, Top Gun, Short Circuit, or one of my other favorite classic ’80s movies. Inevitably, I’d cave, and then we’d end up having a movie night.

That was the problem with him living so close. It was such easy access. Not only that, but he was truly my best friend. There wasn’t anyone else in the world I wanted to hang out with as much as him. This boundary thing was going to take all of my willpower, self-control, and strength, but it was absolutely necessary. Without it, I’d remain stuck.

I’d been white-knuckling through it the past few weeks, and I was hoping it would get easier each time I turned down an offer to hang out. Instead, it seemed to be getting progressively harder. Even now, my hands were sweating, and my heart was palpitating wildly.

“Did you listen to my message?” he asked.

“Yeah.”

“I said I needed to talk to you.”

Even in the shadow of the lid of his hat, I could see the hurt in his big brown eyes. I knew he didn’t appreciate being ignored; who did? But in fairness, I didn’t appreciate having a front-row seat to him banging half the female population of Texas. So, yeah. There was that.

“Sorry,” I apologized. “What’s up?”

His brow furrowed. “Did I do something to piss you off?”

“No,” I lied.

He lifted his hand and pointed at me. “You Samantha’d. You’re lying.”

Sam had always maintained that when I lied, my nose twitched just like Samantha on Bewitched. It might be true. I hated fibbing and could very well be physically allergic to it.

“Whitlock! Let’s go!” Sergeant Conner, Sam’s boss, called out.

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