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I nodded. I felt the exact same that very moment at age 24. Once you let that secret out, where does it leave you? What do you have left?
“I have spent the last 10 years being happy that we were friends. Never wanting to risk what we had for something that may not be mutual. Or even ok.”
“Did I screw us up, Ethan?”
“Nah, we will be ok. We just need to figure some shit out.”
That we agreed on.
Finally, I turned in his arms and got on my knees. Other than the TV, this was the first time I had seen his face since we left New York.
And he looked tired.
Worn out.
Sad.
I rubbed my thumb under his eyes where dark circles had rooted on his skin. He had stubble from not shaving in a few days and his hair hadn’t been cut in at least a month.
His lips quirked up as I took him in.
God, I had missed him so much.
I dropped my hands and settled them into my lap. My eyes followed my hands and I was no longer looking at him. I took a few deep breaths before he took his fingers and lifted my chin back up to look at him.
“I need to know what has been going on this past month, Maddy. I need to know where your head is.”
“I’ve missed you.”
“I know you have, I have missed you too. But you missed me so much you ran from Atlanta?”
“That’s the problem. I missed you too much.”
“That’s not possible,” he smirked.
“I missed you more than a friend. I missed your kisses. Your hands. That thing you did with your tongue,” I admitted. “I missed the love we made.”
Chapter 32
Ethan
Leaving the team again to find Madison was an easy choice. Coach knew my head wasn’t screwed on right. He knew I had to go. This past month was a whirlwind of emotions and while no one knew the details, they all knew something was causing me unease. Their only hope was that I was better before the playoffs. So they eased up and let me be for a bit longer.
I sat, with Madison, on the pier behind her house.
I hadn’t even bothered to see my parents yet. I drove a rental from the airport and saw her sitting on the pier by the lake behind her house. There was no fence so it was easy to see her across the grassy field.
My goal was to tell her about my 12-year-old crush and to see where she stood after our month apart—ahem, sorta—and the time we spent together in New York. I hoped to God she wanted to do that shit again. My body had revolted at the sight of every other woman since then and it—and my brain—wanted more Madison.
My heart did, too.
I missed you more than a friend.
I missed the love we made.
When she looked back at my face, I felt my heart squeeze and my breath hitch. I missed her looking at me almost as much as I missed looking at her.
The time at 678 didn’t count for me because I never reallylookedat her. Not in her eyes, not in her face.
