“So what’s the deal, Kace?” Wade asked as he flipped through the channels on the TV. “Are you going to tell me why you hate Jay so much?”
“What?” I said. “I don’t hate Jay.”
“Could’ve fooled me. And probably him, too.” Wade said. I watched the channels on the TV skim past our eyes like a freight train. He wasn’t even paying attention; simply holing the down button with his middle finger as it skipped through the channels. I grabbed the remote from his hand and switched the TV off. Wade sighed and folded his hands on his stomach.
“I don’t hate Jay,” I said again. “It’s just . . .” I faltered, unable to think of an immediate excuse. I didn’t have to ponder it for long. Wade sat up, rubbing the back of his neck.
“Are you scared?” he asked. “Are you scared of getting hurt?”
My first reaction was to deny it, to argue how absurd the question was. I had always been a very independent, outspoken girl with plenty of friends and a good life, but Wade’s words struck something in me that was exactly right. Although my friends had always been there for me, relationships had never been my strong suite. I had been in unfortunate guy shambles too many times to count, and I swore once that I wouldn’t open up anymore to guys. It had seemed like the best way to protect an already shattered heart.
“Yes,” I admitted quietly. “I am scared. Is that such a crime?”
“If you want to die an old hag with ten too many cats,” Wade joked.
“Dogs,” I interrupted. “Ten too many dogs.”
Wade took my hand in a brotherly, reassuring way. I knew for a fact that neither one of us found it as more than just a sweet gesture. Although Wade was extremely attractive, charming, and sweet, not once since I had known him had I thought of him as more than some-what of a brother, and I knew the feeling was mutual.
Jay, on the other hand, was much different.
“How will you ever find love if you never take a chance?” Wade asked softly. I laid my head on his shoulder, suddenly feeling fatigued and annoyed all at the same time. Jayson Porter wouldn’t leave my mind.
“What?” I said. “I don’t hate Jay.”
“Could’ve fooled me. And probably him, too.” Wade said. I watched the channels on the TV skim past our eyes like a freight train. He wasn’t even paying attention; simply holing the down button with his middle finger as it skipped through the channels. I grabbed the remote from his hand and switched the TV off. Wade sighed and folded his hands on his stomach.
“I don’t hate Jay,” I said again. “It’s just . . .” I faltered, unable to think of an immediate excuse. I didn’t have to ponder it for long. Wade sat up, rubbing the back of his neck.
“Are you scared?” he asked. “Are you scared of getting hurt?”
My first reaction was to deny it, to argue how absurd the question was. I had always been a very independent, outspoken girl with plenty of friends and a good life, but Wade’s words struck something in me that was exactly right. Although my friends had always been there for me, relationships had never been my strong suite. I had been in unfortunate guy shambles too many times to count, and I swore once that I wouldn’t open up anymore to guys. It had seemed like the best way to protect an already shattered heart.
“Yes,” I admitted quietly. “I am scared. Is that such a crime?”
“If you want to die an old hag with ten too many cats,” Wade joked.
“Dogs,” I interrupted. “Ten too many dogs.”
Wade took my hand in a brotherly, reassuring way. I knew for a fact that neither one of us found it as more than just a sweet gesture. Although Wade was extremely attractive, charming, and sweet, not once since I had known him had I thought of him as more than some-what of a brother, and I knew the feeling was mutual.
Jay, on the other hand, was much different.
“How will you ever find love if you never take a chance?” Wade asked softly. I laid my head on his shoulder, suddenly feeling fatigued and annoyed all at the same time. Jayson Porter wouldn’t leave my mind.