Page 24 of Summer Redemption

My little inner cheerleader tries to convince me I won’t lose it and can trust it. I’m just not so sure.

Which is why I’ve kept a little bit of myself, of my heart, all to myself. Because I know it’ll hurt more if I jump into this thing with Huxley with both feet and find out he’s not really ready to catch me.

I’ve heard the rumors around town, even though I’ve tried to ignore them. Huxley got around. A lot. No one really had a bad thing to say about him, there weren’t stories of justified heartbreak in his wake, and he never lied to anyone about his intentions.

Still, it scares me how much effort he’s putting into being with me when his past paints the picture of a man who doesn’t do commitment.

I’m not the kind of woman who will accept anything less. I deserve better than a man with a wandering eye and philandering heart.

But he hasn’t shown that to me and it’s not fair of me to judge him based on rumors and speculation.

I wouldn’t want him to do that to me, and I shouldn’t do that to him.

The one thing I haven’t been unsure about is how much I love working with Wilber. Everyday I leave the clinic and feel accomplished. And usually exhausted.

It’s the kind of tiredness that sticks with you, but you can still find pride in it. It means that I’ve worked hard and helped the animals who need me.

Pride is a constant companion now, but it still all feels surreal.

Then add in Huxley and I’m a mess internally.

After bidding Nora goodnight, I’m adjusting my bag on my shoulder as I step out of the clinic. “Hey, Little Ray,” Huxley’s voice has me jumping a mile in the air as my head snaps up to find him leaning against the side of my truck.

Mine is much older than his, but I’m more than okay with it. It’s the same truck I’ve had since high school, the one I saved up for and made sure to take care of. His is shiny and new. And huge.

It suits him.

I find my lips lifting into a smile as I take in the way his t-shirt stretches across his chest and his jeans mold to his thighs. The man really is far too attractive for his own good. He knows it too.

The smile he gives me is downright sinful and I find my heart beating harder in response.

“What are you doing here?”

He clutches his chest like I’ve wounded him, and I can’t help but laugh at his dramatics. “Really, Little Ray? I’m here to see my girl,” the words roll off his tongue with such ease that it gives me pause.

I tilt my head to the side and ask the question that’s been stuck in my head since the first time, “Why do you call me ‘little ray’?”

The smile on his face doesn’t dim, but his eyes turn serious as he takes a step closer to me as if he needs to do it. “Because you’re a ray of sunshine.” I feel my cheeks heat, but I’m not sure if it’s in anger or flattery. He used to make fun of my name, and it always felt like a knife to the gut. “You light up every room you walk into, and I need you just as much as I need the sun.”

“I thought you hated my name,” I whisper the words so softly that I’m not sure if he heard me at first.

His eyes close and a pained expression crosses his face before he looks at me again. Determination and affection are easy to read in the way he’s looking at me, but there’s something more there as well. Something I don’t want to look too deeply at. Not yet at least.

“I never hated your name,” he admits, his words holding a reverence and a plea which has me stepping closer to him instead of running in the other direction. “I’ve always loved your name and thought it suited you. I was just a confused kid who didn’t know how to deal with my feelings.”

“It’s a hippie sounding name,” I throw out there.

The sound of his chuckle, deep and soulful, washes over my skin. “No, it’s perfect for you. You are sunshine. You are perfect the way you are, always have been.”

I blink up at him a few times, my mind blanking as I try and reconcile the man in front of me and the boy from my memories. It’s not fair to who he has become, I know it, but I’m struggling.

As if he can read my mind and knows I’m having trouble processing his words, his smile becomes mischievous as he tilts his head slightly. “We can name our kids after other weather phenomena. Like Rain? Hail, but we can spell it h-a-l-e?”

“Our kids?” My eyebrows shoot up to my hairline and I almost drop the bag from my shoulder. “What are you even talking about right now?”

He wiggles his eyebrows at me. It’s such a ridiculous action that I can’t help but laugh.

But he doesn’t brush his words off as a joke. I can only shake my head and ask again, “Seriously, what are you doing here?”

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