Page 80 of Still The One

‘Sorry if I’m interrupting,’ Foster says in his deep southern accent, sending shivers down my spine. ‘But I was bored – and you’re my only friend in this city.’

I hadn’t thought of it that way. ‘You’re more than welcome,’ I say. ‘We were talking about tennis.’

Phil shakes his head, a clear ‘what the fuck’ look on his face. ‘Basketball,’ he says. ‘Remember that boyfriend you had who loved basketball?’

I nod. I told him the story of Josh? I don’t remember that. Must’ve been one of our wine nights.

‘Basketball and… things,’ he adds, trying to help but clearly uncomfortable with Foster’s presence.

‘Tennis, basketball-playing boyfriends, and things, eh? You sure there were no motorcycle-riding exes in that conversation?’Foster asks, raising an eyebrow and ordering a Coke instead of a cocktail since he’s on medication and shouldn’t be drinking.

The way Phil shakes his head screams ‘lies’.

Foster leans in closer to me, our shoulders brushing against each other, and I’m hit with his cologne. Christ almighty, I will never make it through this night. I’ve been keeping my distance at the apartment, but I can feel his breath on my neck and goosebumps are quickly overtaking me. ‘Considering we haven’t really talked much in a couple of days, I assume that “thing” is me?’

He shouldn’t be able to read my mind the way he does. ‘Not entirely.’

He smirks.

Genevieve shoots me a quick apologetic glance before turning her attention back to Phil, engaging him in a lively conversation about some new show they both enjoy. It’s like she’s trying to give me space to navigate this unexpected chat with Foster.

‘Did I say too much the other night?’ he asks.

I glance at him, his piercing gaze intent on mine.

‘No, no. It’s not that, I just—’ Taking a deep breath, I decide to be honest. ‘It’s not about what you said,’ I start, the words feeling like a confession. ‘It’s about everything we didn’t say before. The unanswered questions, the unresolved feelings?—’

His eyes flicker with regret and he reaches out tentatively, his hand hovering in the space between us before dropping back to his side. ‘I know I messed up,’ he says earnestly.

‘You did. And then with the Cayden mess, I’ve lost a lot of trust in men over the years.’

‘I get it.’

‘Then there’s the fact that you’re going to leave here eventually. And that’s just one more thing for me to get over.’

He cocks his head, fidgeting with the straw in his drink. ‘Wereyou over me?’

I meet his gaze, the glacier-blue depths of his soul searching mine for a hint of the truth. There’s a vulnerability in his expression that I saw back at the hospital when we first talked after he woke up. That rawness tugs at my heartstrings despite my best efforts to remain guarded.

‘I thought I was,’ I admit quietly, swirling the remains of my drink in its glass. The ice clinks softly, punctuating the heavy silence between us. ‘But seeing you again, hearing your voice, taking care of you… it’s stirring up old feelings, Foster. Feelings I thought I’d buried deep.’

His expression softens, a hint of sadness crossing his features. ‘I never stopped thinking about you after you left. Even when I was far away, doing reckless stunts and living like there was no tomorrow, part of me has always longed for you.’

My throat tightens as he speaks, a mix of emotions churning inside me like a violent storm. That’s present-tense longing. Holy everything – he does still love me. I can’t tear my eyes away from his handsome face, even as the alcohol dulls my senses and leaves me at a loss for words. Part of me wants to pour my heart out to him, but another part is afraid of him breaking my heart. Again.

‘Tell me what you’re thinking.’ The words leave his lips like smooth velvet. I can’t help but drop my head, feeling a bit swirly from the drink.

‘I don’t know what I feel,’ I say with a tipsy smile. ‘Getting over you once hurt. I don’t think I can do it again.’

‘I never in a million years meant for things to go topsy-turvy and hurt you in the process.’

‘I know,’ I nod, sipping my drink. ‘Despite that, I was a total wreck. I cried for weeks.’

Half a shy smile creeps up on him. ‘Me too.’

‘You cried? Over me?’

Be. Still. My. Heart.I always assumed he just hopped on to his motorcycle and forgot about me.

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