Page 118 of Empty Net

Once I’m righted, I clear my throat. “Do you want to go first?”

She nods. “Sure.”

She brushes past me, and I can’t stop myself from reaching out, the fingers that were just pressing against her and driving her wild circling around her wrist. She looks down at where I hold on to her, almost like she’s refusing to meet my eyes.

What does “oh” mean? Do you feel the same? Why can’t you talk to me? Where the fuck do we go from here?

I have so much I want to say, but I’m unsure where to start. So, I say nothing. I release her, and she stands there a moment, hope filling my chest.

Say something, Lilah. Anything. Just please say something.

But she doesn’t, and all that hope I was feeling goes out the door right along with her. I have no idea how long I stand there beneath the muted yellow light, but it’s not long enough to stop the questions that are still swirling.

Why did I have to say anything? Why did I have to go and ruin it? I wish I could say blurting it out was just the heat of the moment, but it wasn’t. Those three words have been sitting on the tip of my tongue for quite some time now. It’s a miracle they didn’t tumble out earlier.

But why tonight? When we’re surrounded by our friends and family and whoever else Selene invited? Now, I have to go out there and pretend the woman I’m head over heels for didn’t just completely crush me with one little word.

Oh.

I shake my head, forcing the word out of my mind, then pull open the door—and come to a halt. Hutch stands with his back against the opposite wall, arms crossed over his chest as he eyes me knowingly.

“What?” I ask, jaw tight as I run my hand through my hair.

“Want to tell me why Lilah came back out to herengagementparty with tears in her eyes?”

Fuck. She was crying? I move to chase after her, but I’m stopped by my captain. It doesn’t matter that I have two inches on the guy; he’s still holding me back, not allowing me to pass.

“Hutch,” I snarl at him. “Let me go.”

He shakes his head. “Not until you tell me why. Because I told you what I’d do to you if you hurt her, and I meant every fucking word of it, Fox.”

“I didn’t hurt her,” I say through clenched teeth.

“She was crying.” He shoves at my chest again. “I fucking saw it. I just want an explanation for it. I want?—”

“I told her I love her!”

His eyes widen, and he releases me. “You did what?”

“I told her I love her,” I repeat, quieter this time. My shoulders slump forward, my throat closing in tight. “And she didn’t say it back. She didn’t say it back, Hutch.”

I knew how Lilah felt about love and relationships going into this—she was fully against both—and I knew how I felt about them. I knew it was risky. I knew I was playing a dangerous game. Yet, I played. I played it, and now I’ve fucking lost. This is nobody’s fault but my own.

Hutch sighs. “Fuck, Fox. Shit. I… I’m so sorry.”

I nod because I don’t know what else to do or what else to say. It’s not like any of it will suddenly make Lilah run back here and tell me she loves me too.

“Give her time,” Hutch says. “Sometimes, it just takes time.”

I don’t respond because I know he’s wrong. Lilah’s already made up her mind. She knows what she wants, and I’m not on that list.

My parents didn’t fight often growing up, so the times they did stick out like sore thumbs in my mind. I remember one particularly cold January night when we were on our way back from dinner—a treat in those days—and my parents didn’t speak the whole way home. My father came home late, and my parents whisper-yelled at one another behind closed doors before all of us kids climbed into the car, and we went out as scheduled. I heard words likegamblingandextra shiftsandthe bar. I had no idea what any of it meant and I still don’t, but it made for the most awkward car ride of my life.

Until tonight. Lilah sits stiffly beside me in the passenger seat, her eyes focused on the road ahead of us, even though she might as well be looking a million miles away. My parents sit in the back just as quietly, and I imagine they feel just as I did way back when, like they have no idea what to do to break the tension.

So, they don’t. After a night that’s supposed to be full of joy and excitement, we ride home in utter silence. We don’t speak even as I pull into my parking garage or when we all slide into the elevator, my parents and me on one side, Lilah standing alone on the other. Nor is a peep uttered when I push open my apartment door, a chill racking through me since I forgot to leave the heater on.

Or maybe that’s just the iciness from Lilah. I can’t tell which.

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