Sweet Cheeks(89)

“No clue but by the look on your face I can guess who it’s from.”

“The *.” The comment is halfhearted and lacking any conviction. How can it when Hayes just purchased the Ferrari of ovens for me?

“Hmm. Definite *,” Ryder murmurs with a shake of his head and a half-cocked smile.

“Guess that’s his way of getting me to call him, huh?”




Each ring of the phone feels like an eternity. I’m irritated, grateful, confused, and overwhelmed over how he could buy me something so extraordinary—something that costs as much as a car—when I’ve pushed him away.

“Ships?”

“It’s too much. Thank you, but I can’t accept it.”

“Then I can’t accept you saying you need time and being away from me.”

His words warm so many parts of me. The parts that ache from missing him. The pieces that fear a love this strong. The unknown still swirling around us.

The want to know he thinks I’m worth fighting for.

My sigh must tell him how hard this is for me because he allows the silence for a moment. Knowing me like he does, he allows me time to process how far apart we feel right now, which makes me miss him even more.

“It’s only been forty-eight hours, and I miss you.” My statement is simple. The break in my voice reflects my struggle, the toll it’s taken and how hard it is to admit.

“I know. Me too. I’ve bought a plane ticket home a hundred times in my head today.”

“I can’t accept the oven, Hayes. It’s way too much.”

“But you asked for time, and I’m trying to give it to you even though it’s killing me not to be there with you,” he says right over me, ignoring my refusal of the oven.

“Hayes, you’re not listening to me.”

“I’m listening. I’m choosing not to hear you.”

My smile is instantaneous. The memories of how frustrated I used to feel when he used to use that defense with me when we were younger.

“I know you’re smiling, Ships. I can hear it through the line.”

“Maybe.”

“And I bet you’re rubbing your ear right now like you do when you have things you want to say but don’t know how to say them.”

His words make me lower my fingers immediately from their place on my ear. I hate and love that he knows me this well. Is it any wonder, despite the current chaos, I still love him?

“Perhaps.”

“Ah, so that means I’m right because you always give one-word answers when you don’t want to admit things.”

“Possibly.” He says the word the same time I do and we both laugh.

“See? I know you, Saylor Rodgers. Everything about you. And what I missed during those ten years without you, I want to spend time learning.”

My eyes well with tears and I can’t figure out how this conversation I wanted to have about how he can’t buy me a shiny new oven turned into him showing exactly how much he knows about me.

“You there?”

“Yeah.”

“You scrunching up that freckled nose of yours? Upset that the man you’re so madly in love with and you need space from has already helped you forget all the bullshit of the last few days with a simple conversation?”

I close my eyes and slump against the wall. His words weave into those holes I’ve worried into my heart over the past few days—the ones I know I’m stupid for having because he’s right. It’s been a few minutes, and he’s proven to me how, when I’m connected to him, I can handle everything else.

“Hayes.” I love you. I’m sorry. I miss you. You’re right.

But nothing comes out, because maybe I’m scared. Maybe what I feel is so damn strong, which explains why I’m hesitating even though every single part of me is telling me to go full steam ahead. Maybe that’s why I can’t tell him to get here as soon as he can.

“Agreed,” he murmurs, followed by a chuckle that’s both seductive and heartwarming. “I agree to everything you just thought but didn’t say out loud. But, no. Not yet. You said you needed space. Time. Seconds. Minutes. Hours. So I’m going to give them to you, Saylor. Ten days to be exact. Two hundred forty hours where you can’t talk to me.” He pauses momentarily. “Fourteen thousand, four hundred minutes—yes, don’t laugh, I just had to do that math on my calculator—of time where I’m going to prove to you why you can’t live without me. Why the stories and tabloids don’t mean shit. And how public opinion can be turned when you try hard enough.”

“You don’t have to—”

“Yes. I do. This is as much my fault as it is Jenna’s. I’ve had a lot of time to think since a certain someone won’t return my calls, and I’ve come to the conclusion that maybe I let it happen. Maybe I pushed Jenna’s buttons to prove a point. I was too selfish thinking about how badly I wanted to shut her up and figure out how to seduce you, to know what it would feel like to sleep with you again, that I didn’t give a thought about how she could retaliate. So, I’m sorry, Saylor. I f*cked up. I played right into the studio’s game and perfectly into Jenna’s hand. So forgive me if I’m taking the reins when it comes to us, but I’m not taking a chance on this outcome. I’m giving you my A-game . . . I just hope you can handle it.”