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Wade’s lips curve into a small smile, and for a moment, the tension in my chest eases.
“Thanks. It’s still a work in progress, but it’s getting there. What would you do with it if you were renovating?” he asks, surprising me.
The question catches me off guard, but in the best way. My mind immediately starts racing with ideas. New paint colors, a modern kitchen island, and maybe even a skylight in the bedroom to let in more natural light. I can’t help but smile as I start rattling off suggestions, and to my surprise, Wade listens intently, nodding along as if he’s genuinely interested.
It feels good to talk about something I’m passionate about, especially with someone who cares. And as I lose myself in the details, I realize that this is what I want. I want to share these moments with Wade, to dream about the future together, to build something real and lasting.
But there’s still that nagging doubt in the back of my mind. Does he want the same thing?
We wind up on his couch, cuddling under a blanket, and I can feel my eyes start to get heavy. I know that I should tell him how I feel, but I chicken out.
Tomorrow. I’ll tell him tomorrow.
I know that I’m just pushing back a difficult conversation, but as my eyes close and I lay against Wade, I can’t find it in me to care.
I’ll tell him,I promise myself.Soon.
FOURTEEN
Wade
I’ve never beengood with words. Not when it comes to feelings, anyway. Swinging a hammer, fixing up a house, getting things done with my hands, that’s where I feel in control, where things make sense. But when it comes to telling someone how I feel, especially someone like Auden… well, that’s a whole different ball game.
I sit on the edge of my bed, staring out the window at the early morning light filtering through the curtains. My thoughts are consumed by her, by the way she laughs, the way she gets that little crease between her eyebrows when she’s focused on a project, and the way she looks at me like I’m someone worth loving. And that’s the thing that scares me the most. Because I do love her. Hell, I’ve loved her for longer than I care to admit.
But there’s a question that’s been gnawing at the back of my mind, one that I can’t seem to shake. Is this just a fling for her? Something casual, something temporary? Or does she feel the same way I do?
I wish I could just come out and ask her, but the thought of laying it all on the line, of risking everything, terrifies me. I’ve never been one to open up easily. It took me years to learn how to trust people, to let them in. And with Auden, it’s different. It’s more. It’s everything.
I stand up, pacing the room as I try to figure out what to do. I want to tell her how I feel, to tell her that I love her, but I need to know where she stands first. I need to know if she sees a future for us, or if this is just something fun for her, something that will fizzle out when the spark inevitably fades.
She’s not like anyone I’ve ever met. She’s strong and independent, and she doesn’t need me. But that’s what I love about her. She’s her own person, and she’s damn good at it. I don’t want to hold her back, and I don’t want to push her into something she’s not ready for. But I also don’t want to lose her. The thought of her slipping away, of this ending before it’s really begun… it makes my chest tighten in a way that’s hard to breathe through.
I think back to all the moments we’ve shared, trying to piece together any clues that might tell me how she feels. There were the times she’d lean into me a little closer, the way her eyes would linger on mine just a second longer than necessary, the way she seemed to be genuinely happy when we were together. But is that enough? Is it enough to risk telling her how I feel, to risk my heart on something that might just be a passing fling for her?
I know I need to talk to her. I know I need to figure this out before I drive myself crazy with all the what-ifs. But how do you ask someone if they see a future with you without sounding desperate or insecure? How do you open up that conversation without scaring them away?
I stop pacing, running a hand through my dark hair as I let out a frustrated sigh. This is why I’ve been giving her space. Notbecause I don’t want to be with her, I do, more than anything, but because I’m scared of what she might say. I’m scared that I’ve built this up in my head, that I’ve convinced myself it’s something more than it actually is.
But I can’t keep running from it. I can’t keep letting fear dictate my actions. If I want to know how she feels, if I want to tell her that I love her, then I need to face this head-on. I need to talk to her, to find out where we stand.
She starts to stir in my bed, and I move closer to her. I had carried her up here after she fell asleep last night. I wanted to see what she’d look like in my bed, and now that image is ingrained in my brain, right next to the one in her in that damn towel.
“Morning,” she says sleepily, and I smile.
“Morning.”
“What time is it?”
“Just after eight.”
“Shit! I have to go meet the Montgomery’s in an hour!”
She leaps out of bed, and I follow her down the stairs and onto the front porch. I know that I need to talk to her about all of this before it drives me crazy, so I call after her.
“Lunch today? I’ll pick you up at work.”
“Sounds good!” She calls before she races inside.
