Page 115 of Say You Remember Me
Especially if Ian Hastings came with it.
Before I could get too lost in the thought, Ian returned, his steps light as he rejoined me. I hesitated, considering asking him for a tour—partly because I was curious, and yes, partly because I wanted to stretch out this time with him.
But since that would probably be weird, I turned back to Grant instead and called out, “Hey buddy, we should head back to Aunt Sloan’s. She’s probably wondering what happened to us.”
“Aw, okay.” Grant sighed, scooping up the squirming kitten for one last hug before setting him down gently on the carpet.
Ian walked us to the door, stepping out onto the driveway as I unlocked my car. Grant climbed into the backseat, and while he was buckling in, I turned back to Ian, suddenly unsure of what to do.
Should I just wave and leave? Should I hug him? Should I?—?
I was still overthinking it when Ian stepped closer, his strong arms slipping around me like it was the most natural thing in the world.
And just like that, I melted.
His embrace was warm and steady, his chest firm beneath my cheek, and for a short moment, I let myself breathe him in. He just feltright—safe and comforting and everything I hadn’t even realized I’d missed.
His head dipped lower, his lips brushing next to my ear as he murmured, “I’m not sure what the protocol is for kissing in front of eight-year-olds, but since he’s just a few feet away and I don’t want to shock him by kissing his mom, I figure I’ll stick to this for now.”
A smile tugged at my lips as I leaned back just far enough to look up at him. “You’re very considerate, you know that?”
“Only sometimes,” he teased, his voice low.
I tilted my head slightly, giving him space to kiss my forehead. The gentle press of his lips against my skin was soft but lingering, sending a shiver through me that I felt all the way down to my toes.
When he pulled back, I didn’t let go right away. I wrapped my arms around him again, possibly holding on a little too tightly. But I couldn’t bring myself to care. I needed this—him—just for a little longer.
After a moment, Ian’s hands slid to my back, giving me one last squeeze before letting me go. “Drive safe,” he said, his voice steady and quiet, though there was something unspoken in his gaze. “I’ll see you tomorrow at work.”
“Okay,” I whispered, my chest tightening as I forced myself to take a step back.
I turned and climbed into the car, glancing back one last time before shutting the door. Ian stood there on the driveway, hands tucked into his pockets, watching us with a soft, thoughtful expression.
As I pulled out and onto the quiet street, I stole one last look in the rearview mirror. He was still there, standing like he wasn’t quite ready to let us leave either.
And as I drove toward Sloan’s house, a warmth lingered in my chest, soft and steady—a reminder of him, and the way his arms felt like home.
43
MADDIE
I couldn’t stop smilingas I watched Ian and his friends carry the last of my things into the cottage on Wednesday night. Miles and Bash were taking boxes two at a time like they were weightless, Owen was hoisting a bookshelf on his shoulder, and Ian was unloading the heavy furniture with Evan, both of them barely breaking a sweat.
I hadn’t been prepared for this level of muscle, to be honest. All of Ian’s friends were ripped—absurdly so. Especially Evan, who, despite being freshly back from his honeymoon, looked like he’d spent those two weeks lifting cars for fun.
“Where did you find these guys?” I teased Ian as he passed by, carrying a chair in each hand like they were folding lawn chairs.
“Don’t let their muscles fool you. They’re all soft on the inside,” Ian said with a smirk. Then he called out to Bash and Miles, “Watch the walls! We don’t want Maddie regretting letting us help.”
“Wouldn’t dream of it, boss,” Bash shot back, dropping his boxes with an exaggerated thud.
By the time everything was unloaded, my storage unit was empty, and I was blinking back tears of gratitude. I didn’t even have to ask for help—they’d all just shown up with Ian and done it with the kind of easy camaraderie that made me feel like part of their group, even if I wasn’t.
“Okay, pizza and drinks are ready!” I called from the front porch, pointing to the boxes of pizza I’d set up on a folding table.
The guys gathered quickly, grabbing slices, beers, and waters, and sprawled themselves out in the yard like it was a lazy summer afternoon. Grant was already settled on the grass, devouring a slice of pepperoni and making friends with Miles—who I’d just learned was a literal NFL quarterback—by challenging him to a race across the lawn. I smiled at the scene, warmth filling me as I went to grab some more napkins from a box inside.
I stood in the little kitchen, sifting through the haphazardly labeled boxes until I found what I needed. The window above the sink was open, letting in the evening breeze, and as I pulled out the napkins, I heard the low rumble of voices drifting through from outside.
