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Tipping my head up, I stared at the blue sky until my eyes burned.
“You shouldn’t be scared of her, you know,” Henry said quietly. “Whoever she is.”
Rubbing the back of my neck, I gave him a long look. “No?”
“Nah. Because if you’re this scared, then she probably is too.” He tapped a finger to his nose. “That’s the key to knowing. We only run scared from the things that matter. And every time we do, they just get bigger in our minds until we can’t see anything past that. Until you wake up one day and realize that whatever you’re afraid of isn’t bigger than the thing you want. Don’t have that moment too late, Jax. Believe me.”
The sound of my name on his lips had me pinching my eyes shut, the frame of my body trembling dangerously as I tried to keep everything in.
“You’re always right, Henry,” I told him when I managed to open them again to look at him. And even though this terrified me to the fucking bone too, I set a hand on his shoulder. “You mind if I get a hug while we’re out here? I think I could use one.”
His face wrinkled in a smile, the kind I hadn’t seen in years, and when he wrapped his arms around me, I held him as tightly as I could manage without hurting him. He smelled like Old Spice and slightly musty clothes, and all the tension in my muscles ebbed as we stood there.
“You were the best thing in my life until her,” I whispered. “I hope you know that.”
Knowing I might never get him like this again, I felt another tear escape, and I rolled my lips together, fighting more that wanted to follow it.
Henry patted my back lightly, pulling away to tap the side of my face like I was a kid. “Right back at you, little pup.” His eyes traced over my face. “Maybe … maybe you could shave before you bring her those flowers. You look like a yeti.”
I barked out a laugh, and he smiled, still absently patting my arm as we started walking back toward the building.
“You gonna go see her tonight?” he asked, pointing offtoward the west, where some dark clouds were rolling heavy across the sky, still a far ways off but ominous all the same. “I think those storms might be headed our way.”
An idea hit me like a lightning bolt—clear and bright and perfect. “Maybe I will.”
“You want to stay for a game of checkers first? And maybe dinner too?” he asked. “I think they’re doing grilled cheese today. It’s not half bad.”
“Yeah,” I answered softly. “I’d like that.”
Chapter 30
Jax
The absolute worst thing about working with Rob and Dipshit were the stupid words they used, and how quickly they’d been burned into my brain. Tonight’s word of choice?
Simp.
I had to google it when they used it the first time because they both thought it was so fucking funny. So in the safety of my truck, without their nosy asses anywhere close by, I tapped my big thumbs on the too-small screen of my phone.
Simp: to show excessive devotion, or longing, for someone or something.
With a small grocery bag clutched in my hand, letter shoved into the back pocket of my jeans and hair damp from the walk from where I’d parked, I knocked on Poppy’s door. She didn’t answer right away, but I knew she was up. There were lights on inside when I drove by before parking next to the garage.
The porch light flipped on, then the sound of the dead bolt disengaged. When she cracked the door open, it was her widened eyes that had me thinking about that fucking word again.
“Jax?” she asked. “What are you doing here?”
The honest answer threatened to bolt from the tip of my tongue.
Simping. I was fuckingsimping. And even if someone paid me a million dollars, I’d never admit that I used that word, even in my own thoughts.
But God, it felt right. Being here, simply because I was thinking about her, wanting to be near her, it felt so fucking right. I was pretty sure I’d fall to my knees if she asked, and do it with a smile on my face.
Hadn’t she earned that after all this time?
Instead of saying any of that, I held the bag out without a word and waited for her to take it. The door opened more fully, and damn if I didn’t devour the sight of her like this.
She was in a soft-pink pajama set, a tank top tight over her chest and belly, short shorts riding high on her legs, and fuzzy pink slippers covering her feet. Poppy was wearing a bra, but not much of one, and through the pastel cotton, I could see the slightest shadow of her nipples. I tore my eyes away, fixing them instead on her face as she studied the bag like it might explode if she touched it.
