Chapter 37
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Leighton
Elias is telling me a story about this weekend when he went on a mountain biking trip with his friends from medical school up in Wisconsin, and one thing after another went wrong. He’s been telling the story to anyone who would listen today.
“It was unbelievable. By the end, he was covered in mud, with bird guts splattered on him, and his shorts were shredded from his seat popping off.”
I lean back in my seat, covering my mouth before my chewed-up fries spray across the table at him.
“He’ll never live it down. That’s who he’s going to be now for eternity.” Elias hands me a napkin since tears are leaking from my eyes from laughing so hard.
Then our eyes lock for a moment too long, and there’s something in his that I’m sure doesn’t match mine.
“Will you go out with me?” he asks, and all the laughter turns to ash on my tongue.
Did I give him the wrong idea? When he asked me to lunch, I accepted because everyone was saying how funny his story was, and I wanted to hear it. I’ve worked with him quite a bit, and I’ve never thought he was interested in a relationship as more than friends and colleagues.
“Oh, um…”
“Well, that’s not a good sign.” He rubs his hand down his face.
“No. I mean…” I have no idea what to say. I have a boyfriend. Although it’s fake—at least, it’s supposed to be fake—if I could resolve my childhood traumas, I’d like it to be more. But it’s my best friend’s brother, and that brings up its own problems.
“You can just say no, Leighton.” His voice pulls me out of my head. My head that always seems to be on Hayes.
“Leighton!”
Elias and I both turn to look toward the person who called my name.
“Mrs. Carlisle?” I whisper.
Oh, that’s right. Hayes said it was her appointment today and had suggested we get lunch, but then we were interrupted by Monroe begging for a cat so she could hug one for National Cat Hugging Day. I never got the time they’d be here.
“Great timing,” Elias says. “You’ve been saved by a brown-haired middle-aged woman who is ‘Not Slim and Kind of Shady.’” He sounds confused reading her sweatshirt.
I can’t help but chuckle. “Just give me a minute.”
I stand, but she reaches the table before I can get some distance from Elias.
Her arms were out three tables away, and she swamps me in one of her tight hugs, swaying us right and left. “I’m cancer-free.”
She says it so loudly that the tables around us clap. She pulls back, her cheeks growing red and waving for people to stop cheering for her, but when they don’t, she preens under the attention. It’s well deserved after everything she went through.
“Congratulations,” I say, hugging her again.
My eyes stray to Hayes and his dad at the cash register. Hayes is staring at me, then Elias, then back at me. He looks just like he did that day at the ice cream parlor when that guy made the shitty remark about his play.
“I know. And I heard about you and Hayes,” she whispers—not nearly quiet enough, but that’s always been Mrs. Carlisle.
Callie got her loud personality from her mom.
“Your secret is safe with me, but I’m so happy.
” She throws her arms around me again, swaying us, and nausea erupts in my stomach.
“I always wanted you for a daughter-in-law.”
Oh boy, she’s laying it on thick.
“Leighton,” Mr. Carlisle says, carrying over the trays. “Let me put these down.” He steps over to the table with Elias. “Hi, son, you don’t mind, do you?”
“By all means.” Elias leans back in his chair, eating his apple, watching the entire scene unfold.
“Mrs. Carlisle was just telling me the great news. You must be ecstatic.” I hug him, but I’m not really in the moment. My mind is on the large figure approaching us, his jaw tight, holding a stack of napkins.
“Thank God. This was the worst year of my life,” he whispers in my ear.
Tears prick my eyes, and I tighten my arms to comfort Mr. Carlisle. I understand how relieved he must be right now.
“Introductions, Leighton,” Elias says.
Mr. Carlise pulls away and holds out his hand. “Dave Carlisle, and this is my wife, Jennifer.”
Elias introduces himself and gets up and shakes both of their hands, then goes to pick up his tray. “I’ll leave you guys to catch up.”
“Nonsense.” Mr. Carlisle sits down next to where Elias was. “We don’t bite.”
Elias’s eyes meet mine, questioning what he should do. I’d really like him to leave—
“Hayes, what took you so long?” Mrs. Carlisle puts her arm through his, bringing him over.
He drops the napkins on the table but doesn’t sit.
“Hayes Carlisle?” Elias asks, causing Hayes’s gaze to move from me to him.
Hayes smacks on a fake smile and puts out his hand. “Yeah.”
“Hayes, this is Elias. He’s a doctor on the OB/GYN floor,” I say.
They shake hands, and I watch Elias give a slight grimace, making me wonder how hard Hayes is shaking his hand. “You’ve been playing out of your shoes this year.”
If I thought Hayes’s jaw was stiff before, it’s granite now. Although Elias meant it as a compliment, Hayes still holds so many wounds from last year.
“I know, he’s having an amazing year.” Mrs. Carlisle puts her free arm in mine. “I think it’s because of a certain someone.” She winks at me, but Hayes has yet to even acknowledge me.
“He should be a shoo-in for the Gold Glove, and if not, it’s all rigged.” Mr. Carlisle put dishes in front of the three empty chairs at the table. “Come and eat, the food’s getting cold.”
“I’ll be back. I’m going to the restroom.” Hayes doesn’t wait for anyone to respond, just walks away.
My gaze follows him.
“Sit, Elias, tell me whatever you were telling Leighton that had her laughing so hard,” Mr. Carlisle says.
Mrs. Carlisle sits next to Dave, looking just as intrigued as her husband.
Elias lowers to his chair, eyeing me the entire time. I should save him, I really should, but instead, I place my hand on Mrs. Carlisle’s shoulder. “I’ll be right back.”
She taps my hand with hers. “Take your time, sweetie. I might go back for more cookies. I’m celebrating.”
I squeeze her hand, so happy that she got good news today.
“Leighton?” Elias says as I step away from the table.
I raise my hand. I should offer a more thorough explanation, but I need to clear this up with Hayes.
I walk down the hall, dodging all the visitors and staff going to get lunch.
I weave through people, my footsteps increasing in speed, trying to reach Hayes before he reaches the bathroom.
When I get close enough, I call his name.
He doesn’t stop, so I set off in a light jog, trying to be inconspicuous, which is hard since I’m jogging through a hospital hallway.
I grab his arm. “Hayes,” I say, catching my breath.
“Don’t worry about it. Go back and eat before you have to go back to work.”
I tug him out of the way of the people, closer to the wall. “It’s not what you think.”
He gives me a fleeting glance, refusing to look me in the eye. “It’s fine. It’s fake, remember? I can’t be mad.”
“But you are?” My voice wavers because it kills me to see him hurting. Does he think I can’t read his body language? Hell, Monroe could, he’s making it so obvious.
“Just go back to your perfect guy. He checks off all your boxes, right?”
“Hayes.” I don’t want to talk about my safe guy list when my entire body aches for him.
“He’s a safe bet, right?” He steps in, closing us off from the chaos, his thigh sandwiched between my legs. “The one you can depend on?”
He pushes his leg against my core, and my hands grab his arms on instinct. His strong biceps bunch under my touch. His hand goes to my hip to keep me in place. Heat radiates from him. Frustration, want, and possession all mixed together. And God help me, I’m greedy for whatever he’ll give me.
There are so many people walking by, I’m hoping we look as though we’re just having a conversation, and I’m not seconds away from begging him to push his thigh up a little more.
“You think he won’t hurt you, but I will?” The pain and frustration radiating out of Hayes’s dark eyes is my undoing.
“I never said that.” My voice is breathless, and he pushes his thigh into me. I shamelessly grind down, just a bit, my hands clinging to his arms.
His gaze strips away from me, then his thigh is gone, and I’m whimpering as he drags me around the corner, our steps uneven, his head moving back and forth, searching both sides of the hallway. He opens a door, looks both ways, and nudges me inside.
I realize it’s a janitorial closet when he flicks the light, which is a pale yellow, barely lighting up the space. The air in here is hot and dusty, but it’s closed off from prying eyes, leaving him and me and the desire coursing between us.
My back goes to the racks, and he steps into my space again.
“Now, where were we?” He wedges his thigh between my legs again, and I let out a soft whimper. He tucks a piece of hair behind my ear with a gentleness that belies his intensity. “You were going to tell me how you want that guy because he’s a safer bet?”
“I wasn’t. I’m not.” My hips betray me, greedily rolling forward. He keeps pressing his thigh in the right spot, and all I want to do is grind on it until I come apart.
“That’s not what it looked like to me. Do you think he can make you feel what you’re feeling right now?”
“No,” I whisper, shaking my head.
He holds both my hips, and I press my hands down on his wrists, anchoring myself so I can grind along his hard, muscled thigh. The pressure sends sparks up my spine, and my nipples pebble in my bra, begging for friction of their own.
“Do you think he can make you forget your name? Make you tremble with need and scream in ecstasy?” He bends forward, running his nose along my jaw.
I shiver, my skin igniting into goose bumps everywhere he breathes. His scent surrounds me—the crispness of his cologne and something that defies explanation. It’s just him.
“Tell me, Leighton. Is he the one you want?”
My hands skirt up his arms and wind around his neck, running through the hair at the back of his head. I’m trembling—not from fear, but from finally being able to stop pretending he’s not the one I think about every time I touch myself. “Please, Hayes.”
He shakes his head. “You’re not getting off that easy. Who do you want, Leighton?”
Another press of his thigh between my legs, and I groan. I can feel the slickness of desire wetting my underwear.
“Do you want him?” he asks again, his hand snaking under one thigh, lifting it so we’re in the same position we were when Easton interrupted us.
“No.” The truth rips free, breaking through the surface.
My pussy is still pressed to his thigh, but he’s not kissing me, and it’s complete and absolute torture to be this close to what I crave and still be denied. His hard heat presses against my hip, and I’m needy in a way I’ve never been before. Desperate for it. For him.
“Then tell me, Leighton, what do you want?”
His hands, his lips, his body entwined with mine. I don’t have it in me to fight anymore. I’m exhausted from fighting my feelings for him. The more he touches me, the more my walls turn to dust.
“You.” I finally grant him the word he’s been waiting for.
His head rears back, searching my eyes as if he wants to double-check before we go any further. But there’s no denying this thing between us, how powerful and all-encompassing our need for each other is.
“About fucking time.”