Page 33 of Between Now and Forever
“Well, I was practicing my dribbling. But I think I’m dribbled out.”
Thank God.
Dylan climbs off the sofa. “Hey, wanna hop on and play duos?”
“Let’s go!” Carter races up the stairs, followed closely by his brother.
Their chatter hits my heart so hard it takes my breath away.Why can’t it always be like this?
I close my computer, too distracted to concentrate on my work. Middle names are always the hardest, and there’s no way I can thinkabout that now. Instead, I turn to the basket of clean clothes on the coffee table. My mind wanders, flitting from one topic to the next.
I grab the shirt lying on top of the pile and fold it.
“He’s just Jay.”
Della’s words come back to me as I pick up his flannel.He’s just Jay.What does that mean?
At the end of the day, what it means doesn’t really matter. He’s my kind, albeit gorgeous, neighbor. That’s all.
I carry Jay’s flannel through the house and into the kitchen, stopping at the sink. The lights in his house are on. I mull over the idea of returning his shirt or keeping it until tomorrow. While tomorrow would be fine, there’s no time like the present.
My stomach tightens. I shoot Dylan a text and then exit the back door.
The night is cool, sending a wave of chills over me as I step onto the lawn. Brilliant stars twinkle overhead in the clear night sky—something I missed in Boston. We didn’t live downtown, but even in the suburbs there was enough light to prevent a clear view of the stars.
My anxiety grows as I get closer to Jay’s door.
Why did I think this was a good idea again?
Knock! Knock!
Jay opens the door. His eyes widen when he sees it’s me.
My jaw drops when I see him.
Even tequila couldn’t have prepared me for this.
He’s shirtless with a towel thrown over his shoulder. The lines of his shoulders, chest, and abs are covered in a sheen. Sweatpants sit low on his hips.
“Hey,” he says, wiping his forehead with the edge of the towel.
Words, Gabby. Use words.
“Hey.” I flash him a wobbly smile. “I brought your shirt back.”
“Oh. Thanks.”
Our fingers brush against each other’s as he takes the flannel from me. The contact ignites the alcohol that’s left in my system. My knees wobble as I struggle not to melt.
“I saw your little boy tonight,” he says.
“You did? When?”
“A few hours ago.” He chuckles softly. “That kid is a bundle of energy.”
I cringe. “Carter must have come over while I was at Della’s. I’m sorry if he bothered you.”
“Nah, he just wanted his basketball aired up.”
