Page 65 of Run Home

His touch retreats, as though to assess how I’m feeling about this step forward in our relationship.

I’m feeling very much like not retreating from this moment.

I make those feelings clear by tightening my grip on his neck and tilting my head to the side. Adrian accepts this new invitation to deepen our kiss, and he steps closer to me, throwing me off-balance in my heels. I trip backward, but Adrian holds fast to my waist and throws up his other hand to catch our momentum on the back wall.

He carefully eases my back to rest against it, his lips never leaving mine. Returning his hand to the back of my head, he traces my cheekbone with his thumb as he kisses me. Kisses me like he’s been denied the one thing he’s wanted and finally has it.

Me.

It’s only when we’re both desperate for air that Adrian eases his lips away, resting his forehead against mine. Once I’ve inhaled enough deep breaths to have coherent thoughts again, I look into his eyes. I could drown in the pool of affection there, and it sends a pleasant pang through my core.

“What does cielo mean?” I whisper.

With his hand still cupping the back of my head, Adrian leans away slightly, bringing his full face into focus. If he’s as drunk from that kiss as I am, this might be the moment I can finally pry the translation out of him.

“Cielo. What does it mean when you call me that?”

He exhales slowly, looking at my eyes, my hair, my lips, my neck, and back to my eyes as one corner of his lips hitches in a soft smile. His fingers gently scratch the back of my head, hypnotizing me. “It’s a common term of endearment in Spanish,” he explains, his voice low, quiet. “But literally translated, it means heaven. Because you are.”

Heaven.

My eyes fill with tears, blurring my view of Adrian’s face. I blink over and over again, trying to bring him back into focus. Trying to process what he’s been calling me this whole time. Ever since that night I kicked him under the table after he gave me his sushi.

He fed me the word to playfully call him “dummy,” all the while calling me “heaven.”

Overwhelmed, my chin quivers, and I bite my cheek to stem the tremble.

Adrian gently kisses my forehead, then pulls my head against his chest, my face tucked into the crook of his neck. His left hand rubs up and down my back as I cling to him, as I breathe him in, trying to ground myself in the reality of how he feels about me. How I feel about him.

I’m afraid I might be getting swept away. This definitely isn’t wading anymore—I’m underwater in the ocean of feelings when I’m with Adrian.

Maybe I should be more cautious. Maybe I’m slipping back into the same old patterns that I never fully broke, only avoided. I don’t really trust myself to know.

But when the way I feel with him feels so much like love—real, genuine love—how am I supposed to willingly swim away from the ocean’s undertow?

Would it be so bad to drown here?

Would it even be drowning?

Even if it is, I think I’ve lost the will to swim against the current. And maybe I’m sinking.

But maybe I’ve found someone who helps me breathe underwater.

Chapter twenty-six

Adrian

As Griffin’s best friend and former teammate, I’ve met all of Sam’s family members before. Each of them has attended Crowns games over the years, and I even traveled with Griffin to visit Oklahoma a couple of times during offseasons.

But after experiencing the intensity of Griffin’s protectiveness over Sam, I’m heading into the presence of all seven West family members with the fear of God in my chest.

It doesn’t help that I just kissed Sam for the first time, and it was pure heaven. Made all of my dreams about it look like cartoons in comparison to the real thing. Replaying the taste of her soft lips, the dip of her back beneath my hand, the grip of her fingers around my neck when I started to pull away—those aren’t the best thoughts to fixate on when I’m with her parents for the first time as her boyfriend.

As I drive us to Griffin’s house, I shift my focus to the weight of Sam in my arms after we kissed. The tremble of her chin when I explained what cielo means. Her fingers clinging to my bicep as I held her head against my chest. I focus on that feeling—protecting her, insulating her from whatever was swirling in her mind that made her react so emotionally. That’s the energy I want her parents and siblings to see. That I’ll call and raise any protectiveness they bring to the table.

I held her in the closet until her breathing evened out and her fingers’ grip on my arm was less desperate. Then, she realized how long we’d been standing there and switched into hurry mode so we wouldn’t be late to the rehearsal.

She’s been quiet on the drive to Griffin’s, but not in a bad way. At least, I don’t think it’s bad. Her fingers interlaced with mine are relaxed, propped on her crossed knees. She’s kept her other hand placed lightly on top, rubbing her thumb across the back of my hand while she stares out the window.