Page 37 of Make Her Mine

I glare at him. “No way. “

“It is beyond time for us to have this out. But we’re not doing it in my driveway where anyone could drive or walk by or look out their front window and see and hear the whole damned thing. Let’s go inside and fight.”

Fuck. I have been pretending to date this man for about two hours and already it’s a pain in my ass.

I blow out a breath, open the door, and get out. He stops at the end of the path, letting me pass in front of him, the gentleman in case anyone’s watching, and I stomp up his front porch steps. I shove the door open, knowing he didn’t lock it, and head into his living room.

Jefferson took the job as guidance counselor and science teacher along with football coach right after college six years ago. In that time, I’ve been to Jefferson’s house with Ginny and Graham a few times, once or twice with my own brother, and with my mom a couple of times.

We share an annoying number of people in common.

He shuts the door behind him, then leans against it crossing his arms.

“You’re accusing me of some pretty big bullshit,” he says.

“None of this is new. You know how I feel.”

“And you have to know that none of that is true. I’m not targeting people that you love in some crazy attempt to try to get them away from you. I’m helping people, Harlow.”

“You wanted to get Graham away from me.”

He sighs. “Okay, in the case of Graham it was more about you,” he admits. “But that’s a specific situation.”

I cross my arms as that familiar hurt makes my chest feel tight. I will not cry in front of Jefferson Riley. “Just because you’re not content with your life here, doesn’t mean other people can’t be.”

“What the fuck makes you think I’m not content with my life here?”

I squeeze my arms tighter against my stomach, mimicking his pose, though I’m not leaning against anything. My feet are braced, and I’m sure I look like I’m ready for a fight.

I am.

I don’t fight with people. I’m calm, supportive, always the voice of reason. I talk things out. I look at all the different angles. Though I am steadfastly on the side of whoever has come to me for help.

Except with Jefferson. I really want to fight with him.

I’ll admit that I’m not always totally rational when it comes to him. He makes me nuts. But I can yell at him. And the pounding adrenaline, the flushed cheeks, the heat I feel, is exhilarating.

I’m not proud of it, but I’ll admit it.

“Fine,” I say. “What makes me think you’re not content with your life here? How about the fact that you didn’t actually get to play in the big championship game that everybody still talks about to this day? Oh sure, they talk about what a big stud you were, what a star you were, how we’ll probably never have a team that good again. But you weren’t actually a part of that three-game series.

“And then you didn’t get to go play for the University of Nebraska. You had to go to Minnesota instead. And no one really liked that, did they? They didn’t really cheer for you once you left the state. You weren’t the same Golden Boy then.”

He doesn’t say anything. He just clenches his jaw and waits.

He’s letting me have my say.

Well, okay then.

“And,” I go on. “How about the fact that your whole family is rich, kind-of-famous scientists who are making the world a better place. Except you. You’re stuck in your tiny hometown teaching science and coaching football. You can’t seem to move beyond high school. You are in the same building, basically doing the same things you did your whole life. You spend time with the same people, in the same places, your days looking pretty much like they’ve looked since you were about five.

“You love your family, but being here in the same town makes it really easy for people to compare you. Anywhere else you could be an amazing teacher and coach, but here, it’s kind of not-quite-as-impressive.

“But you got out for a little bit, right? You escaped. And now you think everyone should get the hell out of this place that should make you happy but makes you feel not-quite-good-enough. You’re stuck but you can try to push as many people out of here as possible.”

He’s just watching me. He waits a beat, then asks, “You done?”

I take a deep breath. I can’t believe I said all of that. I don’t actually know that any of that is true. Those are the reasons I’ve come up with to explain how he behaves. But I’ve always wondered. I’ve wanted to ask him. So I nod. “For now.”

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