Page 139 of The Rookie

Avery looks at me, her expression carefully blank, but her eyes give her away.

I see the same thing I’m feeling.

Regret.

Desperation.

That aching, impossible thing that’s been building between us all week.

But I just nod, forcing a grin.

"See you then, Sinclair."

And I walk away, and sit on top of the bed, in my big, empty room.

Damn.

The rooftop bar at Cantina Roja is straight out of a postcard.

The open-air terrace is strung with soft, golden lights, and the faint sound of a Spanish guitar floats from the corner where a musician strums lazily.

The view? Unreal.

From here, you can see the ocean stretching out endlessly, the sky fading into deep hues of orange and pink as the sun dips below the horizon.

It’s beautiful.

And I can’t focus on a damn thing.

Not when Avery’s sitting across from me, looking like she owns the damn sunset in her strappy black dress, her hair loose around her shoulders.

Cassie’s to my right, chattering away, waving her mojito like she’s about to give a toast.

And me?

I’m nursing my drink, pretending the tequila isn’t making the knot in my chest even worse.

"So," Cassie says, propping her chin on her hand. "Tell me everything. How was the trip?"

Avery and I glance at each other—a quick, fleeting look—and then immediately look away.

"Fine," I say shortly, taking a long sip of my mojito.

Avery clears her throat. "Good. It was…good."

Cassie squints, glancing between us. "You guys are being weird. Did you kill each other or something? Like what am I missing?”

"Nope," Avery says quickly. "Still alive. Barely. But alive.”

"Shame," I mutter, earning a sharp look from her.

Cassie sighs, shaking her head. "I just wish you two could get along sometimes."

I smirk, leaning back in my chair. "Not gonna happen."

Avery mutters under her breath. "Trust me, I know."

Cassie throws up her hands. "God, you two are exhausting."

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