This was about to suck. Forcing herself to walk back to his house, to somehow look him in the eye and apologize for running again.
She opened her eyes as she took a resolute step forward, only to skid to a halt once again.
Leah blinked. Blinked again.
Surely she was imagining things. Surely she wasn’t seeing Jason running—no, hobbling—toward her.
Her heart squeezed as she realized that he was limping—she knew that most of the time his knee didn’t give him much trouble, but he was always deliberate in the way he moved, careful not to make any sudden movement that would twist it.
She also knew that when he did aggravate it, it hurt like hell. And yet here he was, coming after her.
“Stop!” she yelled. “Jason, stop!”
He didn’t stop, and Leah took off toward him. “Stop!” she said again.
She got close enough to see his face and flinched when she saw the anger there. Still, she forced herself forward with her awkward, boob-jiggling, flip-flop run. She deserved his anger.
They collided into each other, her gasping for air a bit more than him, but their grip on each other was equally frantic.
“Your knee!” she said, just as he yelled, “What the hell, Red?”
His face was angry as his hand closed on her elbow, pulling her so close she had no choice but to look into his glowering expression. “I wouldn’t have to be running at all if you didn’t go scampering off like a damned jackrabbit every time my sister comes over to see me!”
“I don’t—”
Leah broke off, and she felt the blood drain from her face.
She’d thought he might have an explanation. She’d hoped it would be a good one—that would mean there might be some hope for them.
But never in her wildest dreams had she imagined that he’d have an explanation that made her feel so utterly, horribly foolish.
“Your sister,” she parroted back.
He swallowed and nodded. “Kathleen.”
She pulled back and lifted the heels of her hands to her temples. “Oh my God. That was your sister a year ago?”
He rolled his eyes. “Yes, that’s how sibling relationships work, Red. Sort of a lifetime deal.”
“Why didn’t you tell me!” she said, not caring that people were really starting to stare now.
He closed his eyes before opening them and meeting her gaze. “I should have. I should have, and I know that. But my entire life I’ve had to beg people to believe in me, Red. And I wanted so damn badly for you to want me enough to hear me out.”
The words sounded like they were ripped from the deepest part of his chest, and Leah’s own heart twisted in response.
She took a little step forward, half-terrified she was misunderstanding him. That he’d wanted her then, and now. “What do you mean nobody believed in you?”
He didn’t answer; his eyes came back to hers, dark and unreadable. Wary. “Why did you come here today, Leah?”
She pressed her lips together, not wanting to have to do this here. Not like this, when he was so mad at her, and she at him, and rightfully so on all sides. They’d both acted like fourteen-year-olds, not rational thirtysomething adults.
And yet, was there anything really rational about love? About the way that she wanted to fight for him, even though she wasn’t at all sure what he wanted from her, if anything?
She licked a salty tear from the corner of her mouth and lifted her chin.
It was time to be brave.
“I came here to tell you something,” she said, her voice a little too loud. Oh Lord, this was awkward.
“To tell me what?”
She swallowed and took a step forward. “To tell you. Um. To tell you why I switched to cinnamon toothpaste,” she said, the sentence coming out in a rush.
Okay, not what she’d meant to say, but at least he wasn’t moving away.
His eyes narrowed. “Yeah? Why’s that?”
Leah’s eyes locked on his. “Because it reminded me of you. Because even as I was dodging your calls, even as it was killing me to think of you with another woman, I missed you. Even when I was hating you, I was . . .”
She broke off, and Jason stepped closer, cupping her face as he searched her eyes urgently. “You were what, Leah?”
Leah squeezed her eyes shut and took the plunge. “Loving you. I loved you back then, and some foolish little part of me loved you this whole past year, even when the only thing that connected me to you was my freaking toothpaste. And then I saw you again, and I just . . . I knew. Knew that I had to tell you, even if you’d tell me that you’re still on the bachelor-for-life path, and—”
Jason’s mouth closed over hers, his kiss rough and hungry. “My beautiful idiot,” he murmured when he pulled back.
Her brain was still reeling from the unexpected kiss, and she blinked at him in confusion. “What—”