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CHAPTER TWENTY

COLLINS

S ince the Botanic Garden, nothing has felt the same.

The more times I replay the conversation between us, the harder it is to convince myself that the way things ended that night was right.

Walking away from a guy shouldn’t be this difficult, especially when we were nothing in the first place. We’re just friends.

Keep telling yourself that, Collins . Friends don’t kiss on benches by the lake, and a friend definitely shouldn’t make you feel the way Sawyer did with a single stroke of his tongue.

He wants more, just like I knew he would. He wants commitment and long evenings of cuddling in front of a movie. He wants cocoa on cold days and snowmen built in the backyard on wintery mornings.

He wants a woman—not to replace Sophie, but to play a motherly role in Ezra’s life.

Each time I’m in his presence, I can’t help but feel like a life like that might be something I want, too, especially if it was with someone like Sawyer. But the pressure to offer him that kind of stability—a permanence I’ve spent my adult life resisting because, inherently, that just isn’t me—causes me to pull back every time we get close.

Maybe it’s right person, wrong circumstance. I don’t know. I’ve considered the possibility that, one day, I’ll look back on my life, alone and old, and regret the decisions I made when I was younger.

But if I get involved with Sawyer and Ezra and ultimately get cold feet, I know I’ll regret hurting them more.

So, why is this fucking difficult? I’m a lone wolf; it’s what I’m used to. And why does the thought of Sawyer eventually meeting a woman who gives him everything I know he wants hurt in a way I never expected it to?

Because he isn’t the only one who’s caught feelings.

When he pulled up outside of my place to drop me home on Tuesday, I hesitated in the silence before I reached for the door of his truck.

Right there, on the tip of my tongue, were the words I so badly wanted to say. You want to come upstairs?

They were the hardest words to swallow down. Five words that gutted me when they reached the pit of my stomach. I knew if I asked him, he’d say yes, but only under the condition that we gave us a go officially.

When I turned to leave, he grabbed my left arm, swiveling me back around to face him. Of course, we’d see each other again, but never in the same way. This chapter between us was finished before it got started.

And that was all because of me, and the way it hurt was only made more painful by the kiss I’d promised we’d never share, but I went ahead and let him anyway, even after he admitted his feelings.

He wanted to know what I liked in bed; he wanted to see that part of me, the part I was convinced he’d hate. Though now, all I can think about is the way I’d take us both to the brink of ecstasy and how amazing it could be, if that kiss was anything to go by.

The absolute best thing to do would be to stay away, to see Kendra, Jenna, and Darcy away from the rest of the friend group. To do what I do best and drive distance between myself and my feelings. I can even quit the job I know I’ll likely lose anyway and move to New Jersey—a place I’ve yet to visit. Hell, I can even head to Europe, or go back to Japan, or maybe even give Australia a try.

I could be in so many different places right now; still, I’m not. Because sitting in this family box, next to a twelve-year-old boy who is fast turning into my best friend, and watching the Blades host the Scorpions is exactly where I want to be.

Last night, while I was curled up on my couch, watching Stranger Things and eating my body weight in comfort snacks, Kendra called, demanding I got to the next game so she could see me.

This girl has a habit of dragging my ass out to places.

She was likely expecting an excuse. Instead, she got a Collins she never knew existed. The dam walls broke, and I sobbed into my corn chips and dip. I told her everything—from the kiss to what I’d said when he asked me to give us a shot.

I don’t know if Sawyer knows I’m here, sitting next to his son and former in-laws, and I don’t know how he’d feel about it either.

He’d probably be pissed at me for spending more time with Ezra and meeting his family when I told him I couldn’t have a relationship with him.

The game is one to one and deep into the first period when Ezra taps me on the shoulder, a foam finger on his other hand. “If you could only pick one, would you want my dad to lift the Stanley Cup, or would you want a brand-new Harley delivered to your garage, free of charge?”

I lightly drum my fingers against my bottom lip. It’s a genuinely tough decision. “What model and color are we talking about?”

In the past half hour since we all sat down for the game, Ezra has told me stuff about bikes I never knew myself. According to Alyssa and Dom, he’s switched out Fortnite for motorcycle magazines and has an obsession with the latest biker documentary just released on Netflix.

“Oh, that’s easy,” he replies, voice animated. “The CVO Road Glide ST in black.”

My lips form a O as I blow out a hot breath. “Yeah, she would be something else.”

He folds his arms across his chest, sitting back in his seat. “If one of those were on the table for me, Dad would never lift the Stanley, period.”

I snort out a laugh, attracting attention from Kendra and Jenna, and they smile sweetly, both of them enamored with the boy sitting beside me.

“I think I’d sacrifice the bike for your dad’s dreams,” I reply quietly.

Leaning down to grab his popcorn, he topples it over, cascading across the floor.

His shoulders slump, but he doesn’t let the accident deter him from his thoughts. “You would? I mean, you’d pass up the CVO?!” he exclaims, disbelief in his voice.

I pick up my bag and unzip it, pulling out a bag of jelly beans. “I think, sometimes, life is about compromise or just finding the joy in others living their dreams.”

I can’t lie; these past few days have been emotional for me, and the look in Ezra’s green eyes as he absorbs my words brings a glaze to mine as I recall the conversation in the Japanese garden. It was the most vulnerable I’d been in a long time, and I liked how it felt.

Ezra draws in his bottom lip, fixing his attention on the game as the first period ends and the players skate off the ice, number twenty-nine tipping his head over his shoulder toward our box.

As Alyssa finishes cleaning up the popcorn, I open the candy and offer it to Ezra. “Want some?”

He takes the packet from me and shakes it. “There aren’t any red ones left.”

I catch sight of Kendra. Shaking her head in a way that depicts awe, I know she’s recognizing another passion I share with Sawyer’s son.

“I, um … might’ve already eaten those ones.” I wince. “Red jelly beans are kind of my favorite.”

He deadpans, pure adolescent-style. “So, you thought you’d try and pass the rejects off on me?”

I reach down into my bag, pulling out a second—this time unopened—packet of jelly beans. “I mean, I have these, too, if you’re interested?”

His eyes light up as I open the bag and spill a few out onto the small table separating our seats.

“Green ones are gross. I hate them with a passion,” Ezra says, finding the first red one and popping it into his mouth, followed by a second.

“Don’t have too many of those. You’ll ruin your dinner when we get home,” Alyssa calls across to us, and I throw her a reassuring wink.

I can’t be sure if she thinks something’s going on between Sawyer and me, but if she does, I don’t see an ounce of animosity in her eyes. They’re good people, family-oriented and so caring of Ezra.

Despite their welcoming nature, I couldn’t feel any more out of place or unsuitable for the Blades captain. Family life like this is an alien concept to me.

My stomach knots as I tip a few more out before resealing the packet. “Go ahead and finish them up.”

“You aren’t going to have one?” Ezra asks.

I shake my head, leaning down closer so only he can hear. “I’m not all that hungry. You take these for dessert later.”

I pass him the bag, and he takes it, slipping it into his jacket pocket, which is hanging on the back of his chair.

“For saying you’re old, you sure act like you’re a college girl. Are you sure you aren’t lying to me?”

He quirks a brow, and I blow out a laugh, garnering attention from everyone around us.

“I’m sure. And less of the old. That’s something we reserve only for your dad and his wrinkles.”

He screws up his freckle-smattered nose. “Yeah, he’s practically ancient. I can’t see anyone loving him now.”

My heart shatters into a million fucking pieces. Right here, in this loud, jam-packed arena, it breaks clean apart.

I clear my throat as the players skate back onto the rink. “Do you want him to meet someone else?”

He sinks into his seat, a crimson flush rising onto his face. “At one point, I kind of figured you and my dad were … I thought my friends were right and you were his girlfriend. But then I asked him, and he told me you were just friends.” He turns to me, question in his gaze. “Is it because he’s too old, or do you have a boyfriend already?”

“I don’t have a boyfriend, Ezra,” I reply, voice muted.

He shrugs his shoulders. “Must be his age then because I can tell he likes you, and Dad never likes girls. I think he misses Mom too much.”

Butterflies swarm my body. I know Sawyer likes me; he’s not made that a secret. Though hearing it from his twelve-year-old son? Now, that hits in a completely different way.

I want to tell him I like his dad, too, but I hold back. I’m here as his dad’s friend, and that’s it. I’m here with my friends, and that’s as far as it can go.

“I miss my mom,” he continues. “But if you asked me which of Dad’s dreams I’d want to come true, I think I’d choose someone who makes him happy instead of him lifting the Stanley Cup.”