He leaned back and scrubbed his face with his hands. “We didn’t have sex. We made love. It was more than just random sex, and it sure as hell was more than scratching an itch. We’re friends and you mean a lot to me.”
She put her hand on his thigh. “Your friendship means a lot to me too.” More than she was willing to admit to anyone, including herself.
“Just promise me that no matter what happens, we’ll remain friends. I like having you in my life.”
“Of course, I’ll always be your friend.” She’d walked away from him once before. She wasn’t sure she had it in her to do it again. “We’re good together. I like having you in my life too.”
Most of the tension relaxed from his body, and he smiled at her. “Good.” He leaned over and gave her a quick peck on the lips. “Let’s go see your father.”
* * *
Chapter 18
* * *
As they walked through the sliding glass doors of the hospital, Heath twined his fingers with hers. Lyric knew that he was playing the role of her fiancé, but part of her wanted to pretend that it was in some part real. It was dumb and pointless, but her rejected seventeen-year-old self still lived deep inside of her. And then there was the fantastic sex. Talking about blurring lines. But she wasn’t seventeen anymore. She knew the difference between sex and love.
“In case I forget to tell you later, thank you, Heath.”
He smiled his mega-million-dollar smile at her, the one that had had her heart beating way too fast from the time she realized that Heath’s throwing arm interested her a lot less than his eight pack. “For what, darlin’?”
“In case I forget to tell you, thanks for pretending to be my fiancé. My family is so happy.” Well, everyone but Harmony. For the first time in Lyric’s life, her mother was happy with something she’d done … or well, was pretending to do. And her father. He was so excited. They just needed to let him believe it for the next month or so until he was stronger, and then they’d tell him the truth. Sure, he would be mad, but he’d forgive her, and by then his heart would be able to take the bad news.
Heath brought her hand up to his lips, gave her a very gallant kiss on the back of it. “No problem. Gives me something to do.”
“Speaking of that … have you given any more thought to—”
“We’re not speaking of it. And we won’t be. Ever.” His voice was flat and final.
She was his fake fiancée and not his teammate. She didn’t take orders from him or anyone—except maybe her boss, but only when she agreed with them. “You need to think about the future, Heath. It’s coming whether you want it to or not.”
“Let it come.” He navigated the hallway, practically pulling her behind him. “I have enough money to wait it out.”
“Your future isn’t a tropical storm. You can’t hunker down and hope for the best.” She knew him better than she was willing to admit. He wasn’t a wait-around kinda guy.
“How about coaching?” She would make him face life after football or die trying. “I bet you’d be really good at it.”
His cell phone buzzed, and he looked relieved for a possible subject change.
She wasn’t giving up. He was helping her, so she would return the favor, whether he liked it or not.
He pulled the phone out of his front jeans pocket, checked the number, hit reject, and shoved it back into the same pocket. “You ready?”
“For what?” Since there was no telling what he’d do or say next, she had to be ready for anything.
He raised a brow as he pushed open the door to the wing where her father was staying. “The show, obviously.”
Nerves played ping-pong in her stomach in spite of the steadying feel of his hand on the small of her back. She nodded and smiled. “I was born ready.”
He laughed, just like she’d intended him to. “Like I haven’t known that since we were five years old.”
He tucked her hand into the crook of his arm. He held his head high and seemed proud to have her on his arm. His gait turned from wobbly to steady.
Just for a millisecond, she allowed herself the belief that this was real. That Heath was in love with her … that they were getting married … that they were a couple. It soothed a small crack in her seventeen-year-old self’s soul. She smiled to herself, and then she let reality sink back in.
It was okay that this was all make believe, because the hurt that had torn her apart was fading. Time, and now Heath, had picked up that brokenhearted seventeen-year-old, brushed her off, and given her a hug.
Laughter billowed out of her father’s room as they approached it, and Lyric couldn’t help grinning. Everyone was in such a good mood. She loved it—loved even more that for once she was at least partially responsible for it.