“I will,” I promised. With that, Hayes led me out of the bar.
We’d been outside approximately ten seconds before he spoke. “So, I guess you told them what happened between us.”
“I did. But only ten hours ago, so it’s still pretty fresh in their minds. Which is probably why Becca went all mama bear on you.”
He shoved his hands in his pockets and we slowly walked down the street. It seemed much of the student body was out celebrating being done with finals, so we passed many people on the street. Lots of girls who, like me, were wearing ridiculous shoes and short dresses, all walking in packs. Guys were out too, their heads turning with every girl that passed. The convenience store on the corner was full of people trying to buy beer. The pizza place was packed with people who preferred to sit and talk over the club scene. But after a few minutes, the farther away from the outskirts of campus we walked and the closer to the academic portion, the crowds dwindled and the night became quiet and calm.
It was strange, walking through campus with Hayes, both of us silent. But it was also surreal. Three days before I never thought I would see him again, and now he was right next to me.
“So, your mom is doing well?”
I had no idea what else we were supposed to talk about, so I went with something we’d sort of already covered.
“Yeah. It was rough at first. She started counseling and it was hard. After Cory and Dad died she’d tried really hard to just push everything away, tried to just go on, and that was probably her first mistake. So, when counseling started it was just her having to work through everything. It started with Cory, but once she started to work through it she realized that she’d never thoroughly mourned my dad, so then it was like she had to start over and trudge through the grief all over again. And then once she’d started to heal, I realized I hadn’t dealt with their deaths either.”
Something inside my chest tightened at his words. Not only did I ache thinking about him grieving his family, but I understood. I also went through a few weeks where Cory’s death hit me hard after Hayes had left. I couldn’t imagine what it felt like for him and I wished, more than anything, I’d been there for him through it.
“I’m sorry,” I whispered. Sorry he’d gone through it at all, sorry I wasn’t there for him, sorry about the entire situation because it sucked for everyone.
He looked over at me and met my eyes, saying, “It’s okay. Mom is great now. She bought a ranch. She has horses and pigs and goats and chickens. I’m good, too. The only thing that’s been missing for the last three years is beside me now, so I can’t complain.”
My heart stumbled. And so did I. Literally. My heel caught in a crack in the sidewalk and I would have gone down if Hayes hadn’t reached out and grabbed my arm. He pulled me back up and I was pressed into his chest. His hand was still wrapped around my arm, and my hands were splayed across his front. He didn’t move away and neither did I. I chose to focus, instead, on the way his chest was moving in and out rapidly with his breaths. Also, the way his other hand slid around my waist, pressing me closer to him. My breath caught and before I could stop myself, I let my head lean against him, let my hands run up him, let my fingers curl around his neck, and I held him. My heart started up again when both his hands wrapped around me. His head came low and he pressed his face into my neck, and everything in that moment was perfect.
He smelled the same and he felt the same, if only a little stronger. But he was still my Hayes and he still fit against me perfectly.
After a few long moments he pulled away, but not far. His hands came up to frame my face and he leaned forward, pressing a kiss to my forehead. It was a sweet kiss but I was torn between appreciating the gesture and wishing he’d pressed his lips against my own instead.
My hands rested on his forearms, my thumbs moving over the fabric of his t-shirt. I felt as though there were some invisible force field between us, holding me back. A very large part of me wanted to throw myself at him, to kiss him and be with him, but there was something there that kept me at bay. Fear? Fear that if I let myself be with him for even one night it would end up hurting more in the long run. Or it could have been anger that he’d left me to begin with? I didn’t know exactly what held me back, only that it was a strong force because I was buzzing with need to touch him.
“I’ve missed you so much,” he said, the words slightly mumbled as his mouth was still pressed lightly against me.
“I’ve missed you too,” I said quietly. Then, “Ever since you left,” with a little sting to my voice I couldn’t contain. I pulled away a little, but not enough to break contact because I wasn’t ready to let him go yet. His knees bent and his eyes were suddenly level with my own.