Page 101 of My Best Bet

Knowing that she wasn’t sending me packing made me want to celebrate in triumph. The tension flew out of my body, and I couldn’t help it, a laugh popped out of me.

Bad mistake.

Her head popped up from the pillow and her eyes flamed. “You didnotjust laugh at me, you fucking asshole.”

A second later, her little body charged at me, but I easily bear hugged her so she couldn’t use her arms and lifted her off her feet.

“Glad we’re finally getting our fight, just didn’t think it’d be physical,” I joked, but she didn’t find it funny at all.

“Put me down.Right. Now,”she demanded, her body wriggling against mine.

Doing as she asked, I dumped her on her twin-size bed, then gingerly sat on the edge of it.

The only sound that filled her apartment was our tense breathing while we both cooled down. Regret swam through my head. I didn’t come here to argue with her. I came here to make things better.

After a couple minutes, I went to pull her legs into my lap, but she jolted away from me, and it felt like a knife to the heart because that reaction had seemingly eased away lately.

The devastation on her face mirrored my own.

“I didn’t mean it,” she said in a pained voice. Taking my hand, she placed it back on her. “I’m sorry. It’s not because of you,” she choked out.

Who? Who is it because of?The question was at the tip of my tongue, but I forced myself to swallow it down. Deep down. Because I was afraid to know. The ensuing anger would be hard to control.

My jaw clenched. “It’s okay, you don’t have to apologize to me, Mer,” I said gruffly, smoothing my hand over her sweatpants.

Her body seemed to sag with exhaustion as the fight left her body. She stared at me with her ocean blue eyes. “I’m sorry I ran at you.”

My mouth tugged up at the corner. “I’m sorry I laughed at you.”

“Can you come here?” she asked quietly, patting the bed beside her. Her body raked with a shiver.

Thank God.Laying down, I tucked her body close to mine so we faced each other. I needed to see her face for this conversation. Reaching down, I pulled her fluffy blankets over the both of us. She was insane if she thought I was letting her stay here.

“This bed is way too small,” I gruffed. My feet were hanging off the bottom of it. Brushing a loose strand of hair behind her ear, I asked, “Can we talk now?”

She reached out and held my face, her thumb smoothed under my eye, just like she’d done countless times in our younger years. The tender movement from the past stirred up old memories, reminding me how lucky I was to be here in the present with her.

“I suppose we should,” she said with a deep breath.

My eyes danced over every detail of her face– her soft pink lips, the slight notch in her nose that made her look angular but delicate all at the same time, her pale skin set against her stormy eyes– memorizing it, cataloging it, hoping to God this wouldn’t be the end of the line for us.

“The last time I didn’t chase you, everything fell apart,” I choked out. “And I'm not risking that again. I keep thinking about how everything went wrong so I can avoid making the same mistakes, but it’s driving me insane because it's not adding up. We have to revisit the past, Mer. Just one time, I'll never ask you to do it ever again. But I think…” I rubbed my forehead. “I think we’re currently operating on two different versions of what happened. We need to untangle it so we can keep our version of after, baby.”

Closing her eyes, she gave a tight nod.

31.Colt - You’re Not Okay - 10 years ago – winter

Turning off the stove, I grabbed the pot and poured the alfredo sauce over the chicken, pasta, and broccoli to finish making her favorite dish.

Grabbing up both plates, I walked into her apartment’s small dining room.

“Ta-da,” I said with a grin, setting the meal down in front of her. She was still wearing her skating clothes from practice, which was odd considering she usually loved to strip out of them and change into sweatpants and a hoodie– usually mine– as soon as she reached home. It flashed in my mind that maybe this was a stress response, the same as how she used to procrastinate taking her skates off because it would signal another practice day gone and one day closer to a competition. She was about a month out from Nationals, another month out from the Olympics, and I couldn’t fucking wait for them to be over.

Looking down at her plate, her body stiffened and she pushed her chair slightly back. My eyes darted over her, wondering what was wrong.

She kept her head lowered. “Sorry, I can’t.”

“Can’t?” My forehead creased, not understanding. This wasn't exactly the response I’d been hoping for.

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