Page 92 of The Hometown Legend

And knowing that someone would be there for her no matter what.

That he wasn’t waiting to humiliate her. To hurt her, to step away, to pour beer on her.

She let go, and she trusted him.

And she landed right in his arms.

HISHEARTWASbeating fast.

He had been a little bit worried about catching her.

Only because he knew it was so critical.

Not just for him—for her.

There was something healing about this coaching he’d been doing with her the last week. But it was more than that.

He could feel himself stitching a bond between him and Rory with golden thread, and in some regards it freaked him the hell out.

Because it just couldn’t happen.

But he was holding her now, and he had caught her. And that made him feel like she might be his.

She was soft. Her hair a reddish gold halo in the sunlight.

“Rory,” he said, his voice rough. “You did good.”

She looked up at him with wide, searching eyes.

“Did I?”

“Yeah,” he said.

He touched her cheek, and without thinking drew his thumb down to her lower lip and traced it. She closed her eyes.

“Rory,” he said, her name a whisper.

Then her eyes snapped open, and she wiggled out of his hold.

“I’ve got that date. Tonight. And now I have sore shoulders.”

“Did you need your shoulders?”

“I don’t really know. I don’t know. Because I haven’t been on a date. You know. Ever. So, maybe I will need my shoulders. Maybe.”

“I hope that you check offclimb the ropeon your list.”

“I didn’t climb it. I let go.”

“You climbed it. You tried. You gave it everything, and you let go when it was safe.”

But he didn’t feel safe. He felt fucking wasted.

Torn apart.

He had caught her. And that made him want to roar. Made him want to growl in victory. Because he’d done it. What he needed to. He’d been there.

But it wasn’t a big deal. It wasn’t something to feel triumphant about.

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