Chapter 13
Grace
The shelter of Johnson’s arms is like nothing I’ve experienced before. Sure, my brothers have hugged me plenty, but so often it’s been at times I was just as worried about them.
Never has a man held me through my own moment of hurt, with the sole purpose of supporting me. Where I’ve trusted him with a secret. Where he’s made me feel so safe.
Johnson keeps his arms locked around me without any sign of breaking away. It gives my emotions surrounding the Larry Smalls story time to fade back to their normal latent state.
After several seconds, the worst of the pain retreats. Johnson’s arms do not. Trying to find the most comfortable position, I shift my head slightly, and my face becomes fully lined up with the crook of his neck.
As I adjust a bit again, the side of my face brushes against his soft beard. The prickles rub ever so slightly against my lips.
The physical sensations make me suddenly aware of the intimacy of the moment.
But instead of pulling back—like I should—I tilt my head closer and glide my cheek against the stubble of his neck, my lips briefly touching the top of his shoulder. And then I’m rocked by a new urge, to press my chest against him more tightly. I start to—
“Grace.” His voice is gruff, clearly surprised. His arms loosen their hold on me slightly.
Realizing what just happened, I’m the one to break the hug fully. He drops his own arms only then and lets me fall back into the chair.
Oh god, this is mortifying. “I’m sorry, Johnson.”
But when I see the look in his eyes, it knocks the embarrassment away. There’s so much there—regret, longing, hunger, fear.
“I’m not, Grace.”
His chocolate brown eyes loaded with that mix of emotions, his voice desperate, he rips through every safety net I’ve ever built for myself.
“Grace, I’d do pretty much anything to kiss you right now.”
Oh. Oh.
My chest feels tight, but I softly speak the truth.
“Well, I would…like that, Johnson.”
He shuts his eyes like my words cause him pain. “Knowing that, it…it makes this harder. But I can’t. We can’t.”
Anxiety starts rising in my chest. “Why not?”
My default insecurities creep in—is it me? What did I do wrong?
“It’s Landon.”
His eyes slit open, and he picks at the carpet. “I promised him I would look out for any of our teammates trying to hook up with you, mess with you.”
What? Such a Landon thing to do. “And that’s what you’re interested in? Messing around with me?”
I’m starting to get frustrated. Why are things always so hard with Johnson? I think I’m on stable ground—and then I’m not.
His eyes get big, and he sits up straighter, moving his body closer to me. “No! No. Grace, I think you’re incredible. I would never…I wouldn’t treat you like that.”
“Was that what happened at spring break?” There, I said it. The topic we’ve avoided all this time, the topic that makes it harder to believe his words right now.
After a pained expression flashes across his face, his response is weighted with regret.
“No, Grace. Since we’re talking about it, I’m so sorry about that night. So damn sorry. I acted like an idiot, a jerk. I never should have made you feel like what you shared changed things.”
I’m quiet. Processing his apology.
“For real, it was great that you were a virgin.” Alarm fills his eyes when he realizes how that sounds. “I mean—great may not be the right word. But I didn’t mean to make it awkward that you were one.”
I’m trying to keep my emotions from spinning out while we revisit that night, but the “polite Grace” filter is apparently temporarily disabled.
“Good, because I still am.”
There’s a second of silence.
“Shit,” Johnson then whispers faintly. Is he saying that because he stuck his foot in his mouth about seven times? Or because I’m still a virgin?
Another beat passes and then he runs his hand down his beard. His expression is earnest, but not as flustered as during his apology a moment ago. It’s as if he found a way to calm himself down again.
“I’m sorry, I’m making a fucking mess of this. Let me start over?”
I nod, not knowing how else to respond.
“Grace, I’m going to be real. I’m attracted to you. Not only because you’re gorgeous, but because of who you are as a person.”
Sincerity is oozing from his tone. Okay. I feel my nerves pacified by his compliments. Keeping me from leaning into my insecurities as the reason for all his mixed messages this morning.
“But if we told Landon anything about being interested in each other, best case scenario, he would probably make it awkward. Be constantly checking with us on how it’s going, making sure I’m not screwing up. Worse case, he would be livid.”
True. Landon has a big brother chip that would probably be at DEFCON 1 in this situation.
“I can see that.” I leave my response at that.
“Plus, I don’t want to explore something, have it go sideways, and then make you uncomfortable, piss Landon off, or even make things weird on the team. I owe too much to Coach Houston to screw things up for the team.”
He looks off towards the open space of the basement, like he’s trying to reset himself, and then turns back to me. “I’m going too fast. I shouldn’t even assume what you want.”
What do I want?
I take a few breaths and digest the question. Until this second, dating Johnson wasn’t even something I entertained, so I haven’t had a chance to think—or overthink—about it yet.
But, if circumstances were different, would I say yes to a date? Give things a chance?
Yeah, I think I would. He’s shown me so much of himself the last couple of weeks that is different from what I’d expected. And I’m clearly physically into him.
He’s looking at me expectantly as I finish my internal conversation.
When I finally respond, my voice is faint, but I give an honest response. “You didn’t misread things. I would want to see where things evolve.”
He swallows, eyes staying on mine. It takes him a few seconds again to find his words.
“I’m especially sorry then, Grace. But I think it’s best that we shelve this. Maybe after the season is over, it’ll be easier to figure out.”
Inside, I’m now a raw nerve, exposed, my stomach churning.
But I get what he’s saying, objectively, so I try to manage my emotional reaction. It’s not about you, Grace. He likes you.
“I hope we can stay friends in the meantime?” Johnson’s voice is again a little earnest, and entirely sincere. “For the gala and otherwise.”
Oh yes, the gala. I nod, feeling some relief at his offer, given we’re still three weeks from the auction and need to be able to communicate. “Yes, okay.”
The ends of his mouth tip up a bit, even while his eyes are sad. “Great.”
“I better get going.” I’m now officially desperate to get out of this basement so I can have time to process everything that just happened.
He gestures to the donations. “I can bring all the items we picked to the facility tomorrow?”
“Thank you.” I check my watch. “I’ll get home in time to watch the interview too.” Landon and Rawley’s joint interview is at noon, and while I originally thought I might end up being here to watch it with Johnson, I need breathing room now.
Once we’re both upstairs on the main floor of his house, he walks me outside to my car.
“Thanks again for coming, Little Battle. Hopefully the new things do well in the bidding.” He begins walking back to his front porch.
With the new transparency between us, I finally ask a question I’ve been wondering about. Maybe I’m only being brave because I’m directing the question to his retreating back.
“Johnson, why do you always call me ‘Little Battle’? I mean, especially now that we’re older?”
He’s made it to the front porch, and he turns around to give me a small smile. His voice is quiet and a little wistful as he answers.
“It’s how I remember whose sister you are.”
And before I have time to react, he’s stepped into his house, shutting the door behind him.