Page 83 of All In
“Why?” His brows pinch together, and his eyes are full of intensity as he studies me.
“You know why.” Somehow, and I can’t pinpoint when, it’s not just me who has inched closer. My racing heartbeat fills my ears, and I can’t help but wonder if he can hear it, too. He looks down at my hand and gives it a gentle squeeze before releasing it. His touch lingers on my skin.
Sam takes a deliberate step back, trying to create some distance between himself and me. And I hate it. “I better let you get into work.”
I give a slight nod of agreement because he’s right; I need to get in there and start my day. This whole little emotionally charged reunion has already made me late. So, why does being out here with him seem so much more important? As if this is a start. Of what, I don’tknow.
But a start.
He opens his mouth to say something, then stops. I tilt my head in curiosity, silently begging him to say whatever it is. He rubs the back of his neck and finally speaks. “Before you go inside, can I get your number?” My head jerks in shock at his suggestion. This seems to catch him off guard as a skeptical expression skates across his face. “I mean, only if you want to.”
And just to show him how much I want to, I start rummaging through my massive purse to find my phone. I tap on the unlock code, feeling the smooth glass beneath my fingertips, and hand it to him. “Here. Type in your number.”
“You sure?” With hesitancy, he takes my phone from my hand, our fingers brushing slightly. It feels like fire, a burning sensation that leaves me breathless and in agony.
Why does every touch from him feel like this? Even after all this time.
“Of course,” I say.
He exhales in relief, and I watch his fingers type in his number, a grin etched on his face. His hands look like they always did. Still strong but older and more weathered. The same, but better. Memories of how they felt when he would touch me flood my brain.
“Here.” He hands it back to me, snapping me back to the here and now. I attempt to compose myself as I type out a quick text and then add him to my contacts. His phone dings from his back pocket.
“Is it too much to ask for a hug redo? That last one … well … we can do better.” This entire exchange is taking me back to the park when Brielle was a baby. I’m hoping this hug redo tops that one. He knows he doesn’t have to ask twice, but it’s sweet that he does. We can do better. We always have.
With a grin, I set my bags down, extend my arms, and we both dissolve into nervous laughter, the sound filling the cold air around us. In one swift motion, he seizes my forearm and draws me toward him, holding me close. His hands tightly clasp my back, the pressure of his fingers sending shivers down my spine. My hands wrap around his shoulders, then his neck, and I can’t stop pulling him tighter, holding onto him with purpose.
God, he feelsso good.
His nose nuzzles into my hair, and the warmth of his breath skates against my skin as he exhales, warming me from the cold. He smells my hair, like he always used to, and a soft moan escapes his lips. This only spurs me on as my face brushes against his neck, and I inhale deeply, taking in his familiar, comforting smell. His hand glides up to my head with a gentle touch as he weaves his fingers into my hair. Then his calloused finger traces a path down my neck, sending a tingling sensation through my body.
Nope, not awkward anymore, because the one man I do trust, more than anyone, is back in my arms again.
I have no idea how long we have been standing here, holding one another, but it’s obvious neither of us wants to be the first to let go. And I really wish I wasn’t wearing this massive coat. It’s too much clothing because I feel like I can’t get close enough to him.
This is the first time we have embraced like this since that day in the shed before my wedding, and it feels like no time has passed. Yes, we hugged in the park, but it was quick. Like how you hug an old friend whom you haven’t seen in a while. But this hug … this hug feels like it’s full of promise and hope. As we immerse ourselves in the moment, the sounds of the world fade into silence. Our history feels ancient and non-existent. We stand there, locked in an intense embrace, so tight it feels like the last time.
I don’t want this to be the last time.
After a final squeeze, the weight of Sam’s arms drops, and they fall to his sides as he steps back, catching his breath.
I clear my throat to get my breathing under control because that … that was … everything. “Better?” I choke on the question, my voice now hoarse.
A soft hum escapes from him. “Much.”
I pick up my bags and take steps backward, still facing him. “I’ll talk to you soon, Sam. It was nice seeing you again.”
Neither of us wanting to turn away from each other, we are both walking backward in sync. “I’ll text you.” He smiles, and it sounds like a promise. I hope it is.
Making it to the entrance of my building, I wave, turn, and tap my badge to unlock the door. I step inside and look back. His eyes remain locked on mine. “One more thing,” he hollers out.
“Yeah.”
“I’ve missed you.”
It’s an admission I wasn’t expecting. But also, one I didn’t know I needed to hear.
I rest my head on the door as I hold it open and take him in, standing so close to me, thrust back into my world unexpectedly. “I’ve missed you, too.” Because I have. So much.
