Page 44 of A Slice of Love

I want to lift her mouth to mine and kiss her until neither of us can feel our lips.

But none of that is mine to have anymore, so I don’t press for more.

We stand there like that, my hand on her waist, her body angled toward mine, my chin resting against her head.

We’re not quite embracing, but we’re not standing with a field of all our mistakes separating us either.

We’re meeting at the 50-yard line together.

“How many times were you there?”

“E-Enough to know why the NFL wanted you as badly as I did.”

I sigh. “Why were you there, Frank? Why did you come to my games?”

“Because I wanted to see you.”

“Why didn’t you ever tell me?”

She laughs dryly, and I feel her body shake against mine. “I was angry, Jonas.”

“Are you still angry?”

“Yes.”

No hesitation from her, and the reality that Frankie could never be mine socks me right in the gut.

“Are you always going to be angry?”

She doesn’t answer right away, and I gulp, my stomach rolling with anticipation.

Or maybe that’s from the alcohol.

I don’t know at this point.

“I don’t know.”

It’s all I need.

I grin against her soft skin. “So you’re saying there’s a chance?”

She laughs, shoving away from me, taking two steps back and putting that distance back between us.

A distance I’d happily sprint, broken knee and all.

I shove my thumb over my shoulder. “I better head home. I told my parents not to wait up, but they don’t listen for shit.”

She nods but doesn’t say anything else.

“I’ll see you around.”

Another nod.

I take two steps backward, hoping she’ll take the cue and walk inside, but she doesn’t. She just stands there, looking off past my shoulder but not really staring at anything in particular.

It’s like she’s lost in memories of the past, and I wish we could both go back there. I’d do so many things so differently.

“I wasn’t there that night.”

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