Page 48 of Drifting Hearts
“In the interest of honoring the cookie confessional, I want to tell you that I want to go with you, and that’s probably why I shouldn’t. I like you. Maybe too much, if that’s a thing.”
His “confession” didn’t catch me off-guard at all. I’d hoped he liked me as much as I liked him. I wanted our feelings to match. And while Iwas fairly certain that I loved him, I didn’t want to reveal such a thing at my mother’s kitchen table.
“Tomorrow, then.” I stood to leave, stopping only to tilt Clay’s chin up and brush a kiss against his mouth. He blinked up at me, his eyes soft with affection. A smile tugged at his lips. He was obviously pleased at how bold I’d been just then, kissing him at my mom’s. Maybe one day soon, I’d tell him how I felt about him. One day when my mom wasn’t in the next room.
“Bye,” Clay said, a little breathlessly and I preened at the effect I had on him.
“Call me if you need anything.” I was still hesitant to leave, but I did have boring grown-up things to attend to. Like catching up with some work and making a grocery order.
Clay didn’t call. He didn’t text. I didn’t push, but it was hard not to take the resounding silence personally. In an effort to keep my mind off of him, I did an inhuman amount of work. My grocery order arrived and I put it away. And if I ordered things that I wouldn’t normally buy because I knew Clay liked them.
My own nerves kept me up late and woke me up early, and I arrived at Mom’s with coffee and donuts. Clay met me out front and slid into the passenger seat. He too looked like he hadn’t slept a wink.
“I got you a coffee.” I wanted Clay to lean across the seat and kiss me, but the warm smile he gave the coffee would have to hold me over.
“You’re a life saver.”
“You didn’t sleep either?”
“On and off.” He took a sip of his coffee and rummaged in the bag, pulling out one of the sour cream glazed donuts I’d bought him. Clay looked at the donut with a thoughtful expression before taking a bite.
“Nervous?” I asked for lack of anything else to say. The day he’d waited for and dreaded in equal measure was finally here and, in a short time, he’d be free of his cast.
“I’d be a liar if I said no. But mostly I’m looking forward to having a shower without a plastic bag on my arm.”
“I bet you’re looking forward to jerking off with your right hand again.”
Clay coughed and sputtered, barely managing not to spray donut everywhere. “I don’t know,” he said, his voice hoarse from coughing. “I think I’m finally getting the hang of using the other hand.”
“Had a lot of practice, have you?”
“I mean, have you looked at yourself? It’s not like I don’t have plenty of material.”
“Flattery will get you everywhere.” I flicked on my turn signal and pulled into the doctor’s office lot. I parked near the doors and killed the engine. “Did you want me to go in with you?”
Clay didn’t answer, but he looked pretty pale all of the sudden.
“I—” He opened his mouth and closed it again.
Taking his choice away, I slid the keys out of the ignition and undid my seatbelt. Clay sat there looking like a man who was about to face down a firing squad. I walked around to the other side of the car and opened his door. He looked up at me, blinking against the sun that shone in his eyes.
“Come on.” I held my hand out to him, waiting for him to take it. “Let’s go. I’ll be with you the whole time.”
He managed to pry himself out of the car. He brought his coffee with him, though because he was so jittery, caffeine probably wasn’t the best thing forhim to have.
He took up one of the red chairs in the corner of the waiting room by a tall fake plant and stared at the silent television on the far wall. Once I checked him in, I took a seat next to him.
A million different reassurances lived and died on my tongue. I wanted to tell him that it would be okay. That his leg had healed just fine, so there was no reason to believe his arm wouldn’t. Unless he was on his feet for too long, he didn’t even have a limp anymore. It was only when he got tired that evidence of his injury showed up. It had been weeks since his face had been constantly pinched with pain. I didn’t miss that look, and I would definitely not miss the fearful expression in his eyes.
“Clayton Cross,” the assistant called his name.
He looked at her, then back at me, a silent plea in his eyes. I stood first, taking his coffee from him so I could hold his hand.
“It’ll be okay,” I told him, believing it because I wouldn’t let it be anything but okay.
Chapter 25
Clayton
