Everything for You (Bergman Brothers #5)(92)

As soon as I’ve shut his door behind me, I sprint down the hall, take the stairs three at a time. Frantically, I brush my teeth, brush my hair, yank off the shirt and sweats I slept in, swipe on deodorant, tug on fresh clothes, stomp into my sneakers, then run downstairs. I’ve just managed to artfully lean against the banister as Gavin walks out of his room, wearing black sneakers, black joggers, and a charcoal-gray long-sleeved shirt that hugs his massive arms.

His mouth tips as he drinks me in, a soft smile that makes my heart beat double time.

“Can I help you?” I ask.

The smile deepens. He tugs on his Ray-Bans. “You look like a fucking Funfetti cake.”

I glance down at my outfit. My favorite yellow sneaks. Watermelon-pink joggers. A pale-blue T-shirt that brings out my eyes. Lifting my chin, I stroll toward the front door and throw it open. “I’ll have you know I like Funfetti cake.”

I feel Gavin’s eyes on me from behind. “So do I.”

After yanking the door shut behind us, I lock it, then pocket the key. He’s still watching me behind the Ray-Bans, his stare intense. I clear my throat and point ahead. “This way’s a nice, even walk. No hills. A one-mile loop. That work?”

He glances in the direction I’ve pointed, then nods. “Yeah.”

“Fine! I mean, good. Excellent. Great. Here we go.” God, I’m a nervous wreck.

Starting ahead of Gavin, I look for a tree to bang my head into and knock myself out before I can open my mouth again and make a bigger fool of myself.

But something about his silent, steady presence as we start to walk begins to settle me. He’s quiet as we make our way, remaining half a step behind me. I keep my stride slow and leisurely, hoping I’ve set a comfortable pace for him, drinking in the view. It’s my favorite time of year here—warm, golden sunshine, glossy green grass, a cool blue sky dappled with cotton-ball clouds.

A canopy of blossoms clusters the trees overhead, and the wind makes them rain a gale of petals. Snow white, lemon yellow, palest pink, they float from the sky, swirling around us.

As I gaze up, drinking in the sight, I feel Gavin’s hand wrap around mine. “Oliver.”

I turn and face him, heart jackhammering in my chest. “You okay? Need to go back? Gotta pee?”

He steps closer, his eyes searching mine. “No. But I do need to ask you something.”

I nod. Too fast. Too many times. My heart’s pounding right out of my chest. Gently, Gavin sets his hand over my heart, soothing it. “Take a breath,” he says quietly.

I nod again, forcing myself to take a deep, slow breath in, then out.

“Good.” He steps closer still, drifting his hand up my chest, to my neck, until he cups my face. “Now. Stop running off.”

My eyes widen. “I…I’m not. Not that you have any place to lecture me on that.”

His eyes search mine. His throat works with a swallow. “That’s fair. But I’m here to change that.”

“You are?”

“Oliver…” He frowns. Suspicion seems to tighten his expression. “Wait…you don’t…you don’t know why I’m here.”

I shake my head. “I’m so confused—”

“Jesus.” He drops his head and sighs heavily. “You didn’t watch all of it, did you?”

“All of what?” I ask, beyond confused.

“The press conference.” He lifts his head and meets my eyes, his thumb gentling my cheek. “All of the press conference. You said you watched it.”

I blink, wracking my brain. “You’d just opened it up to questions, that’s when I stopped. Because…you were here. You were banging on my door. That mattered more.”

“Fuck,” he groans. Now he looks both relieved and also deeply nervous. “Okay. Yeah. Well, that helps. I feel a little better.”

“Gavin.” I grab him by the shirt. “Please just tell me what the hell is going on.”

He smiles softly, his expression tinged with nerves as he runs his hands through my hair, along my temple, ghosts his thumb over the shell of my ear. “I pictured you being more off-the-grid here, unable to watch the press conference, so I thought I’d beat you to the punch. I’d planned to say it myself, but then I got here and you said that you’d seen it, and then I was relieved. Because I’m a fucking coward. And now you’re saying you haven’t seen it—”

“For the love of God, Gavin Hayes, tell me what the hell you’re talking about!”

He yanks me close, until our mouths are inches away from each other, our chests heaving. Like that day in the locker room, heat billowing between us, intensity flashing in his eyes. His gaze drifts down to my mouth, then drifts back up, holding mine. “I love you.”

I grip his shirt tighter, leaning into him. “What?”

He walks us back, slowly, like a dance, until I’m pressed against the trunk of a massive old tree, until Gavin’s pinning me against it. “I said, I love you. And I know I haven’t done much to inspire your confidence in those words coming from me. I don’t have experience with this. I don’t know what I’m doing. And I’m fucking scared as shit, because I don’t know how it will end or if we’ll come out winners, and I fucking hate even the thought of losing, let alone losing something so precious, losing you.