Blind Side(70)

And a large pair of white Allbird sneakers came into view.

My heart stopped in my chest at the sight of them, at the dark gray joggers that cuffed at the ankle of legs I could draw blind, I knew them so well now. I clutched my key in my hand as my eyes trailed up those sweats, the NBU Football sweater, and finally, to Clay’s face.

His miserable, tortured face.

I couldn’t speak, couldn’t do anything other than watch where his knee bounced, his clasped hands balancing over it wrung together like he was a man on the edge of breaking. His nose flared, red eyes taking in the length of me like he was looking for something he couldn’t find even with a magnifying glass.

“How did it go?”

His question surprised me, especially with how slow and achingly it came from his lips. It was barely a croak, like the words had burned his esophagus on the way out.

“Honestly?” I asked on a slow breath. “Awful.”

Clay didn’t show any emotional response to that.

“I mean, he tried,” I clarified. “I… I got what I wanted, I guess. But I just…” I paused, stomach rolling painfully at the truth I wasn’t brave enough to say. “It felt off. It felt… wrong.”

I stared at my shoes, at Clay’s, at his hands that were still white-knuckled.

After a long moment, I managed a swallow, pulling my gaze to meet his. “Why are you here?” I whispered.

I swore I saw a world war raging behind his eyes, heard gunshots and bombs exploding as he battled with whatever was on his mind. It was like he was on the precipice of deciding whether he wanted to say it or keep it inside forever.

And then, he looked at me, Adam’s apple bobbing hard in his throat before he dared to push forward.

“I couldn’t eat,” he started, knee still bouncing. “Couldn’t train, couldn’t sleep, couldn’t do anything other than make myself sick thinking about him touching you.”

My breath caught at the need, at the pure, desperate possession that rolled off his tongue along with those words.

“I tried to pull my head out of my ass, to remind myself that this was what you wanted, what we both have been playing this game for.” Clay shook his head. “But it was useless.”

He dropped his gaze from mine, staring somewhere at the ground between us, instead.

“I have thought of nothing and no one but you since that night on the observatory tower.”

His words were just a whisper, and emotion wrapped its hands around my throat, gripping tight as I held onto every word he said.

“I want you to be happy, Giana,” he continued, voice ragged. “Maybe more than I’ve wanted anything in my life. And if he’s what makes you happy? I’ll leave. Right now.” His gaze snapped to mine. “We can publicly break up and you can have what you want. I will walk away. I will leave you be. I will sincerely, with all my heart, wish nothing but the very best for you as I let you go.”

I struggled with my next breath at the thought, at all of it being over.

Clay stood then, slowly, his eyes never leaving mine as he did.

“But that’s not what I want,” he continued, testing the space between us. “And it hasn’t been for a while now, no matter how I tried to fight it.”

The bitter breeze did nothing to cool my steaming cheeks as Clay took another tentative step toward me, but he didn’t close all the space. He didn’t reach for me, didn’t touch me, didn’t dare take the control he was granting to me.

“I want you,” he declared, and the admission must have pained him as much as it elated me. His brows bent together, nose flaring like he was laying himself down at my feet and handing me a sword, not knowing if I’d ask him to stand again or cut his head off. “I want you,” he repeated on a raspy breath. “And I don’t want to pretend anymore.”

I nearly sobbed when those words danced into the shell of my ear, when I realized every aching rip of my heart was one he’d felt, too.

It was real.

All of it was real.

And the only way I knew how to tell him that was with my hands sliding up his chest, arms wrapping around his neck, and toes pressing against the sidewalk until I could meld my mouth with his.

“I’m yours,” I whispered.

And then I was raked into his arms.





Giana



My back was slammed against my front door the second it closed behind us.

Clay pushed into me with everything that he was, the entirety of his body covering mine. His hips pinned me against the wood, my legs wrapping around him, heels digging into his ass and begging for more. His hands gripped my hips hard as he kissed me, lips soft and warm and somehow tender in their demand.

I opened for him, softening with every touch, releasing every bit of tension that had weaved itself into my bones since the night he walked away from me. And as if he could sense that was where my head had gone, he intertwined his hands with mine, holding them beside my head as he pressed his chest hard against my own.

“This was why I left last week,” he whispered into the space between us, his forehead to mine, our breaths labored between. “I walked away from you even when everything in my body begged me to stay. Because when I took you for the first time, I didn’t want it to be under the guise of any of this between us being fake.”