Page 32 of The Wing
It’s real. And if he’d have me, I’d go wherever he was. But he probably wouldn’t want someone like me dragging him down.
And that’s fine.
I just need to stop thinking about having him around for good.
Discussing the books we read, watching rugby when it’s on, maybe going on easier hikes so I can keep up. The fact I’m wishing about doing another hike with him means I’m already over the edge.
I sigh and rub my forehead. Oh well. Once the season’s over, Daisy can come pick up the pieces of my heart and make sure I eat while I write.
I pad to the kitchen, and my thick socks mask the sound so Hemi doesn’t notice me. A small smile spreads across my face, and I bite my lip.
He’s in workout gear, and his long-sleeve T-shirt clings to him with damp patches on his chest and back. His mullet is disheveled, the chestnut strands stick up in places and flat against his head in others as if he’d run his hand through one patch of his hair and missed the others.
A pan is in one hand, a spatula in the other, and he’s pushing around fried eggs—more than I knew could fit in the pan—and fried bacon rests on the bench on two plates.
“Did you leave me cold in bed to go on a run in the middle of winter?” I ask, coming to stand beside him and peer into the pan.
Without putting any of the utensils down, Hemi turns to me and says, “Morning, darling,” and pecks me on the lips. “I was feeling motivated when I woke up so I did some of my usual workout routine.”
I frown. “I thought you were supposed to be taking a break? Does Daisy know? The other trainers?” Do I need to text her and tell her Hemi is doing his workout again? Is it any different from hiking?
Hemi puts the cooking utensils down and rests his hands on my hips, careful not to get his sweaty clothes on me. “I’m feeling good. Really good, and I wanted to ease back in and see what happened. It was”—he shakes his head and grins—“amazing. Everything felt…normal.”
I rub my thumbs over his wrists. “Hemi, that’s great. But don’t push anything.” I glare at him until he nods. “Good. Now, is there a reason you have a dozen eggs in the pan?”
“I’m hungry and you need food, too.” He takes the pan off the stove and piles eggs onto both of our plates. He’s greatly overestimated how much I eat compared to him.
We eat at the round table, watching birds flit between trees as we nudge our feet together.
When I finish most of my plate, I sit back in my chair and stare at Hemi. The weak light coming through the window touches his hair, and when he meets my eyes, his hazel ones glow.
“What do you want to do today?” he asks before putting the last forkful of food in his mouth. I nudge my plate closer to him, and he shifts my remaining food to his plate.
“Want to see my plotting cave?”
Hemi pauses with the fork halfway to his mouth and lowers it, eggs dropping to the plate. “You’re serious?”
I nod and tap my fingers on the table. “If you want to.” No one’s been in my office before. Not even Daisy. Well, not since she helped paint it. It’s my haven. Filled with my chaotic notes and leftover copies of books, with posters on the walls and random scribbles on my whiteboard.
I wouldn’t invite Hemi in unless I wanted him to stay.
“Fuck yes, I want to see your office.” Hemi grins and leans forward. “Are you serious?” I nod again and smile at his enthusiasm, and my fingers stop tapping on the table. “Sweet.Let me finish eating, and let’s do it.” Hemi fills his fork and inhales food.
My eyebrows raise, and I place a hand over his before he can stuff more food in his mouth. “There isn’t an expiration date on the invitation. Slow down, otherwise you’ll choke.”
Hemi swallows and smiles sheepishly. “Sorry. I’m excited.”
“I am, too.” I stroke his hand with my thumb.
“New plan. I’ll eat like an adult, then shower, then look at your office.”
“Sounds good.” I release his hand so he can finish eating, and this time he eats a comfortable portion of food and chews properly before swallowing.
Hemi finishes his food and launches himself off the chair and crosses to the hall before turning back and kissing me. “I’ll be back soon.”
“Okay,” I mumble with my eyes still closed, the taste of him in my mouth. I open them to watch his ass disappear down the hall and stand to clean the kitchen.
By the time I’ve stacked the dishwasher and scrubbed the pans, Hemi walks into the kitchen wearing a soft-looking tracksuit in dark grey and slings an arm around my hips.
