Page 23 of Heartstrings & Horseshoes

As it does every night, my body’s molded to his in my sleep. I need his touch more than food or water. My head’s nestled in the crook of his shoulder and the cotton of his shirt bunches between my fingers.

My senses are overcome by everything Connor. My nerve endings fire off—there’s not a stitch of his warm skin touching my body. Why is he fully dressed?

His masculine scent fills my nose, his deep, rhythmic breathing soothes my ears, his heartbeat the metronome setting the rhythm my heart follows.

My leg’s slung over his hips, and I don’t dare move. I don’t want to wake him, and I don’t want confirmation the firm ridge below my calf is his erection. But Connor knows my body better than I do.

“Morning, doll,” his sleepy voice rasps.

Every muscle in my body seizes up; he knows I’m awake. He tightens his arm around my shoulders, pulling me closer into his chest. Rough fingers comb hair from my face, and he places a kiss to my forehead.

I barely contain the whimper of pleasure that tries to escape my lips at his attention. I’ve missed him so much.

I’d give up anything—even move on someday to find a second-rate love—if it meant I could keep this.

I need Connor more than I need oxygen and I refuse to jeopardize our connection. I’ve swallowed my feelings our entire friendship.

I can keep this in. I have to.

I dare to tilt my head and meet his heavy eyes, but I have no words. What can I possibly say to fix what I’ve broken?

I’m sorry I’m a burden and you’ve wasted your life rescuing me.

Thank you for inviting me into your home, but it’s best if I leave.

I’m sorry for whatever I did that scared you away. Please don’t ever leave me again.

I can’t say any of that, so I say nothing at all. His brow furrows when I don’t respond.

“What’s the matter, doll?”

More confessions threaten to spill from my lips.

I love you but I can never tell you.

I’ll do anything to keep you, even if it means ruining myself.

I can’t survive without you.

It hurt every second you avoided me.

Connor lifts me from his chest and sits back against the headboard, adjusting me to sit beside him.

“I’m sorry,” we both say simultaneously.

“No, I’m sorr⁠—”

“Why are you sorr⁠—”

Our questions collide in the charged air between us.

“Let me go first, doll. I’m sorry I’ve been avoiding you.” His admission stings more than I thought it would. I suspected that’s what he’d been doing.

“I was a coward and there’s no other way to spin it. Living with you freaked me out—not because of anything you did, but because—I don’t know how to explain it. The reasons don’t matter. What matters is I let you down and I’ll never forgive myself.”

“Connor, it’s okay…” But he interrupts.

“No, it’s not okay. I promised to always take care of you, and I let my own bullshit get in the way when you needed me. I took you from your home, trapped you in mine, and fucking abandoned you.”