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You don’t know anything about love if you aren’t willing to wait for it.
“If something happened to you, I wouldn’t be okay. I would never be okay,” he practically hissed.
“You are so fucking stubborn,” I said. “Pot meet your kettle.”
“He had a traumatic brain injury, you insensitive, immature asshole,” I spat out, wishing there was another cup of red liquid to throw at his stupid face again. “He slipped on some ice, fell, and hit his head. That’s how he died. There weren’t any tacos involved, you prick.”
“I’m always going to be fair with the boys, but I will play favorites with everyone else who isn’t an active member of the team. Don’t put me into that position, because I know she”—he tipped his head toward me—“only bites when she has to, and I will always take her side. Are we clear on that?”
“Maybe you can take care of yourself, but have you thought for one single fucking second that maybe somebody else might want to take care of you too?” he growled.
He reared back, his expression all “are you fucking kidding me?” “Being your friend has been the hardest fucking thing I’ve ever had to do.”
“You are the most ridiculous fucking woman I have ever met in my entire life, Diana. Half the time I want to shake you and the other half of the time….” He trailed off, glaring right into my eyes. In the second that followed that fraction of time, that muscular arm that had slashed across my chest to keep me in place moved. His hand, that long-fingered, callused hand, slid behind my neck, and Dallas kissed me. His lips touched mine, gentle, barely a brush, a whisper of a warm mouth and breath over my own. And then he went for it. There was no hesitation, no warning peck. That fuller upper lip
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Dallas was holding my hand. He was holding my hand as he said, “You told me you were a little in love with me, do you remember?” How could I forget? “But I wouldn’t use ‘little’ to describe what I feel for you, Diana. I think you know that already.” It was my turn to blink. I squeezed our palms together. “So I’m not imagining it?” I pretty much whispered. “No, baby, you’re not.” Dallas squeezed my fingers between his. I dropped about four F-bombs in my head as I stood there, not trusting my words. Or his. And he must have known that because he didn’t wait for me to open my mouth. “I’m your
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“Yes buts. You can love me, but that doesn’t have to mean anything, Dallas. What do you want from me?” “Everything.”
“Are you sure you know what you’re getting yourself into?” His mouth stayed in the same smirking smile and he nodded. “One hundred percent.” “You know I’m crazy.” “You’re my best friend. I know you’re crazy.” Why that felt like the best compliment I’d ever been given, I had no idea. But I gave him a serious look. “I’m a jealous bitch, Dallas. Do you understand that? I’m not saying you can’t talk to women or other parents on the team or anything, but if you cheated on me—why are you smiling?” “If I cheated on you, you and Josh would kill me and bury the body somewhere no one would ever find.”
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“One day during practice when we saw that dad talking to you, I told him I didn’t like you talking to him, and he said he didn’t either. So I asked him what we should do, and he said nothing because you were never gonna do anything with him and that one day soon, between me and him, none of those jackasses—he said it, not me, don’t get mad—would never bother you again.”
“That’s what he said! Jeez. He said he knew I already have a dad, and he told me that his dad died too and that he knew that if his mom had got married again when he was young, that he would never call anybody else Dad. So, he said we could be friends and he could show me how to do stuff and we could be a family, that I didn’t have to call him anything but Dallas if I didn’t want to.”
