Page 30 of The Air I Breathe

"It makes sense." I push her hair back from her face. "You've been touring the world for the past eight months. I'm sure you're beat down to hell and back. Yes, my job is physically demanding, but I don't do it every night and it's only for part of the year. You're a fuckin' beast."

She blushes a pretty pink and hides her face in my chest. "So are you."

My eyes track as her tongue comes out and runs along her bottom lip. "I talked to the guys today."

"Did you? I didn't want to ask in case they gave an answer that was going to hurt my feelings."

This is the part that surprises me most about her. Willa is more sensitive than I’d ever imagined, especially since she's faced so much negativity online. I don't think I would've been able to handle it with the grace she has. Although now that she's turned most of her comments off on her posts, maybe it's safe to say she got sick of giving grace to others who didn't deserve it. "I did,They'd be thrilled for you to come to the game next week. I think they're more excited than I am."

"That's cute." She giggles. "I've given a handful of concerts there, but I've never been there for a game."

"I'm thrilled your first time is to watch me play."

"Me too."

One of the things I love about what we have is that we don't have to talk to one another. Lying here is enough.

Bret told me right before he married CeCe that he knew she was the one because their silence wasn't awkward. I’d thought that was so weird until I met Willa. Our silences aren't awkward at all. They're filled with ease and small touches here and there. Like right now—I'm entwining our fingers together because I want to be closer to her. She’s leaning into me, as if she wants to be closer to me, too. In previous relationships, I haven't had that. This is new for both of us, and I hope that when we look back on where this began ten years from now, this is what we remember.

She laughs, her hot breath warming my chest.

"What?"

"Now I have to figure out what the hell I'm supposed to wear."

I roll my eyes but laugh right along with her. "I hope you don't mind hanging out with my mom? Because she'll be up in the box with you. CeCe prefers to watch in the stands most of the time. She was a college athlete, so she loves to be among the faithful."

"Understandable. If it wasn't a safety hazard, I'd love that too, but I am who I am, and that's a public place. It not only puts me at risk, but everyone else. So I'll just be up in the box with Mama Whitfield."

"She'll love that. Do you want to meet her sometime this week before the game?"

Her blue eyes widen as she nods emphatically. "Yes please. That'd be way too much pressure, even for me."

"Okay, we'll make it happen."

"I like that about you." She smiles.

"What?"

"That when you say you'll make it happen, you actually mean it."

That sentiment, those words? They're fuckin' heavy, and I understand how much trust is given with them. I lean forward, kissing her forehead, and make a silent promise to both of us. I won't be letting her down.

Chapter Twenty-Five

Willa

"What would your mom prefer? I know strawberry mojitos are an acquired taste and not everyone loves them," I say to Blake as we move around his kitchen a couple of days later. He's invited his mom, dad, brother, and sister-in-law for dinner. I don't think I've ever been this nervous, even before performing for a stadium of hundreds of thousands. I want to make a good impression and prove to them I'm just a normal person who really cares about the guy they love—although a lot of shit comes with being with me.

"Mom and CeCe are both wine drinkers. Although CeCe may not indulge. She and Bret are trying for a baby right now—or at least I think they are. It's been hinted at enough that they're either trying or she's very early pregnant, or they're really thinking about it."

I laugh, my eyebrows coming together in question. "Why don't you just ask him instead of speculating?"

"It's not the kind of thing we ask each other about. He'll tell me when he's ready, if he's ready." I shrug. "It's how we've always been. Either way, I have their favorite wine, and the rest of us are beer drinkers, so if you only want to make half a pitcher for yourself, you're good."

I nod, stirring what I've made. Since this will pour about three drinks, and two really is my limit, I won't make any more. "I hope they like the cookies and the baked chicken."

He comes over and stands in front of me, grabbing my shoulders and turning me so that I face him. "They will love all of it. More than anything, they're going to love that I care about you and you care about me. You don't have to worry about being good enough for them. Impressing them and everyone in the world are two totally different things, Willa. We grew up so middle class we got the electricity turned off sometimes. You get what I'm saying?"