Page 69 of Cross-Checked

“Not particularly. Chet’s going to be there?—”

“Why the fuck is your ex-husband going to be atyourfamily’s event?”

I love that he’s angry on my behalf, but my laugh lacks humor when I tell him, “He’s the one they kept in the divorce.”

McCabe takes a sharp turn onto a side street, brakes squealing as he slips into a parking spot, the quick action makingmy stomach flip. He turns toward me, his face all hard lines. But that look warms me, because he cares enough to be pissed.

“What the fuck do you mean,he’s the one they kept?”

I shrug and look down at my lap. “Chet’s a family friend. His dad and mine have been golf partners my whole life. We grew up together...”

He reaches across the space and uses his fingertips to gently turn my face toward him. “You didn’t answer my question.”

“My parents wanted me to look past his cheating and stay married. In front of my parents, Chet was begging me to forgive him, promising to do anything to make it right. I knew there was no way I’d ever get past what he’d done, but my parents acted like this was just a part of marriage and I needed to get over it.”

It was enough to make me wonder if that was part of their marriage too—not that I’d ever ask. Those were not the type of things that were discussed in the Jones household.

“The fuck?”

I appreciate how taken aback he is, because it lets me know that I’m not crazy for refusing to give Chet a second chance. For a long time, my parents were big on gaslighting me—trying to convince me that I was the problem. It’s a relief to have an outsider confirm that I made the right decision in leaving.

“Yeah. So that kind of tarnished our relationship—you know, even more than it already had been because of Nicholas. When I threatened to sue for custody of my brother on the grounds of neglect, that was the nail in the coffin of our relationship.”

“You did what, now?” His brow pinches as he searches my face.

“When I started talking to Frank about the GM position in Boston, I realized I didn’t want to leave my brother in St. Louis without me. So I looked into boarding school options here. Initially, they didn’t want him to go—though I still have no ideawhy. It’s not like they ever spent time with him, unless it was to show him off at some social function.”

“So you brought him to Boston with you?”

“Yeah, I mean, he went to boarding school, but he was only like half an hour outside of the city. And he’s lived here ever since. St. Louis really isn’t home for either of us, anymore.”

His thumb slides along my cheekbone, and that’s when I realize he’s still holding my face. He’s eyeing me like I’m someone he needs to fix.

“Don’t look at me like that,” I tell him, feeling uncommonly vulnerable.

His voice softens. “Like what?”

“Like I’m broken.”

“I don’t think you’re broken. If anything...I’m looking at you with admiration. It’s like the person I see in front of me now is completely different than the person I thought you were. And Ireallylike who I see.”

“You’re just saying that because now, every time you look at me, you’re thinking about what I look like when I come.”

I don’t know why I feel the need to take this moment and make it into a joke. But there’s a heaviness to his words that has my belly flipping over. There’s a seriousness that terrifies me. I excel at holding people at a distance, and I don’t know how he keeps breaking through my barriers.

His fingers tighten on my jaw. “No, I’m saying that because you keep surprising me in the best ways. I’m kind of in awe of you.”

I try to gulp down my emotions, to hold my thoughts in, but somehow, he always disarms me. Maybe it’s that fiercely protective look in his eyes, or the way he keeps telling me how he feels. Maybe it’s that I’ve never had a truly healthy relationship with a guy, and the way McCabe validates me and supports me like a friend would, while worshiping me sexually, has mewanting to share parts of myself with him I’ve never shared with anyone else.

I don’t break eye contact when I tell him, “You keep surprising me in the best ways, too.”

He leans forward, pressing a kiss to my forehead. “At some point, we’re going to need to talk about what to do with this relationship. It’s getting harder to hide.”

“Harder to hide?” I laugh. “You mean since last night?”

He chuckles, shaking his head. “No. I mean since I kissed you in your office, and since you moved into my place, and since Walsh caught me coming out of your hotel room, and since the guys were ragging on me at the gym this morning, wondering why I looked like a lovesick fool.”

Alovesick fool?

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