Page 25 of Only ever you-Ana & Byron (Blindsided #2)

O ne year later

It was the only time Byron looked uncomfortable.

His shoulders sat just a little too square, his spine too straight, like he was bracing for impact during a game.

He kept his hands firmly on the table, not even brushing against hers, even when their elbows bumped.

He laughed at the right moments, joined in with Gray's dry comments, and offered Cadi second helpings with a crooked smile that didn't quite reach his eyes.

But to Ana, who knew him better than anyone now, it was like watching a tiger wear a suit.

Cadi was warm, open and chatty as always. It was a rare night out while Tomos was with his Grammy . If she noticed the extra inch of space between Ana and Byron, she didn't comment.

Gray, of course, noticed everything .

He gave Byron one of his long, unreadable looks over the rim of his pint. A raised eyebrow. A slight tilt of his head that said, What's your game here, mate?

Byron met his eyes and said nothing.

The food was good. The conversation was easy. The wine flowed. But beneath it all, tension buzzed like a frayed wire. Ana was hyper-aware of Byron's leg beside hers under the table, the way he shifted ever so slightly away whenever she reached for her glass or leaned in to say something.

He was holding back.

She'd expected it. This is what she wanted

Doesn't mean she liked it.

Later, in the car, they didn't speak for a while. Byron drove with one hand on the wheel, eyes fixed on the road, jaw tense. The radio played soft instrumental.

Ana looked at him warily.

His profile in the soft glow of the dashboard lights. That pink scar near his eyebrow is from rugby. The slight crook of his nose from an old break. His mouth was tight now, but still her favourite thing to kiss. Maybe one of her favourite things.

"You, okay?" she asked, threading carefully.

He didn't answer at first. Just exhaled through his nose.

"I couldn't stop starin' at your mouth all night."

His voice was gravelly.

"You were sat there, bein' all clever and smug, throwin' that smile around like it's not a bloody weapon. And I had to sit there, next to you, pretendin' I didn't want to finger you under that table."

Ana felt her pulse jump.

He kept talking, like the words had been bottled up .

"Couldn't even look at you, proper. Gray ain’t stupid. Neither's Cadi. And I-I just wanted to grab you. Kiss ya. Make you sit on my lap where you bloody well belong."

She turned in her seat, heart thudding.

"You could've held my hand under the table."

He glanced at her, just for a moment.

"No, I bloody well couldn't," he gritted out. "Not when I wanted to pull your panties off."

Ana reached across the console, took his free hand.

"Wanna have car sex?" she murmured in his ear as she pulled her panties off.

Byron got distracted and nearly drove into the back of a truck.

"Flipping heck, woman, let me find a place to park."

***

1 more year later.

It was supposed to be a routine post-match interview, a bit of fluff, a few laughs. Until a tabloid journalist pulled out a glossy photo. Byron and Ana. Her head on his shoulder, both of them smiling, lazy and sitting on a park bench.

"Bit cosy, eh?," the reporter said. "Girlfriend?"

Byron blinked with no expression on his face.

"She's a friend," he said stiffly.

The reporter raised an eyebrow. Byron coughed and said, "I don't talk about private stuff. You know that, Greg.".

That night, he came home later than usual that day. Tossed his keys in the dish by the door.

Ana was curled up on the sofa, laptop on her knees.

He just stood there in front of her, hands on his hips, his eyes intent on her.

"You ready to go public with this yet, love?" he asked, voice rough.

Ana looked up and closed the laptop .

"Not yet," she said gently.

Byron nodded jerkily once. But he didn't push.

"Alright. But you'll tell me when you are?"

She nodded.

"I will."

He came over, kissed her forehead, and curled onto the couch beside her, arms tight around her waist. They sat like that for a while.

***

2 months later

Ana sat on the bathroom floor, legs drawn up, staring at the unopened test in her hand like it might explode. Her phone buzzed on the counter, silent now after fifteen missed calls. Byron was outside.

She didn't want him to see her like this.

Didn't want him to hear her breathing like she was drowning.

The knock was soft this time.

"Ana," came Byron's voice, low and coaxing through the door. "Open up, love. You have been in there for ages."

She stayed silent.

"I'll pick the bloody lock," he added after a beat. "Don't test me. I've seen videos."

The door creaked open. She hadn't locked it properly.

Byron stepped inside, barefoot, shirtless, wearing just a pair of old grey joggers that hung indecently low. He didn't say anything at first-just crouched down beside her, eyes scanning her face.

"Hey," he said softly, brushing hair away from her cheek.

"Talk to me."

She swallowed. "My period's late."

He blinked. "Right."

"Five days."

He nodded. He was too calm .

"I took one test, and it was-" she exhaled shakily. "It was inconclusive. So, I bought another one and then panicked. So now I'm sitting here like a lunatic."

Byron reached for her hand.

"We'll do it together, yeah? Whatever happens-we deal with it. That's the rule, remember?"

She looked at him, searching his face. "Do you... I mean... do you want kids?"

He tilted his head. Thought about it.

"With you? Yeah, I do."

Her throat tightened.

"But if you don't, or if this isn't the right time, we'll sort it. I'll support whatever you decide, Ana. No pressure. Just you and me, team effort."

She let out a breath that sounded suspiciously like a sob.

"You're being too perfect. It's pissing me off."

He grinned.

"Also, I've been reading up on those pills. You're 32 now. It's not great for your body to be on them this long."

She blinked. "You've been researching my contraceptives?"

"Well, someone has to. I live down there, love, I should know the terrain."

She snorted.

"Alright then, genius, what's your plan?"

"Condoms. Till we're ready for a squad of our own."

"You hate condoms."

"I'll suffer. For you. But only if I get to complain every single time."

She gave him a watery laugh, and he sat back smugly.

"Also, might need to take a loan out. Extra-large costs more."

Ana stared at him. "Please. You're regular at best. "

He gasped. "You take that back."

"I've seen cucumbers with more girth."

"Unbelievable. I give you emotional support, and you attack my crown jewels."

"Love you," she murmured into his shoulder.

"Even if I'm only a medium king?"

"Especially if."

She was quiet for a minute before she said, "I don't think I want kids. Maybe not ever."

His expression didn't change right away. But she saw it.

The flicker. That flash of something in his eyes, he tried hard to hide behind humour.

Byron nodded slowly.

"Alright. We'll adopt, then if you change your mind. Or just raise a dog that thinks it's a toddler."

She gave a wobbly smile, but he didn't return it.

The second test was negative. Later that day, her period came like an anti-climax.

That night, there was a shift between them.

Not a fight or anger. Just a soft, padded space like a wall of cotton had been gently placed between their bodies. When they lay in bed, his arm didn't reach for her the way it usually did. He kissed her goodnight, forehead only, then turned onto his side without a word.

Ana stared at the ceiling.

She'd meant what she said.

But it didn't make it easier.