Page 84 of Dirty Little Mistake

Her fingers carved slow circles in the pool, fracturing the moon's reflection into a thousand pieces. "I need you to stop texting me." The words came out so soft I had to lean forward to catch them. Something in my chest cracked - she was slipping away again. "I understand what you're doing, but I'm with Owennow, and I know you don't want me to, but I need to move on. I can't do that with you always calling and texting."

"Maybe that's because we were meant to be." The joint trembled slightly between my fingers.

"It doesn't matter. I'm with Owen. I committed to him, and nothing is going to change that."

I watched Cam's profile in the moonlight, my heart aching with every breath. God, she was beautiful. And here I was, about to promise to leave her alone. To let her go.

I leaned forward in my chair, elbows resting on my knees, and a hint of a smirk played at the corners of my mouth. "I'll make a deal with you." My voice came out steadier than the hammering in my chest suggested it should.

Her head tilted as her feet stilled in the water. "What kind of deal?"

"I'll back off. Let you be with Owen." His name tasted like ash on my tongue. "No more calls, no more texts. After the wedding next weekend, I'm gone."

Her eyebrow arched. "But?"

"But if—" The word hung there until I forced myself to continue. "When—you two break up..." I slid forward in my chair. "You give me another chance."

I watched the emotions play across her face—surprise, consideration, and something else. Hope? Or was that just my desperation reflecting back at me?

Cam's lips pressed into a thin line, her gaze dropping to the rippling water. "You seem so sure it won't work out." A note of defensiveness crept into her voice.

I shrugged. "I know it won't because you were meant for me, and no amount of denial is going to change that." I passed the blunt back to her and pushed out of the chair. "So, do we have a deal?"

Cam wrapped her arms around herself like she was cold. "He's my best friend." She lifted her chin, meeting my gaze defiantly. "And best friends make the best lovers."

I dropped to one knee, close enough to catch the scent of chlorine on her skin. "And how's that going?" Moonlight caught the curve of her neck as she leaned away. "Does he make you come?" The question hung between us like smoke, her silence more telling than any answer.

Her fingers curled against the pool's edge, water dripping between white knuckles. "Shut up." She twisted away, but not before I caught the flush creeping up her neck. "You have a deal." The blunt trembled slightly as she lifted it to her lips, drawing deep before exhaling a stream of smoke toward the distant stars. Her free hand cut through the air between us like a knife. "Now disappear."

I pushed to my full height and strolled away with a smile, knowing I'd get my second chance again. I just had to wait patiently.

Chapter 40

Camryn

My blade edge bit into the fresh ice with a satisfying crunch, sending a small spray of crystals across the pristine surface. In the pre-dawn darkness, the rink felt like a cave of shadows and echoes, the industrial lights casting pools of harsh white that made the untouched ice gleam like polished marble. Through the high windows, stars still pinpricked the black sky—it would be a while before sunrise.

Perfect time to skate, when the air was so cold it made my lungs ache, and the only sound was the whisper of my blades carving delicate patterns into the silence. Perfect time to be alone with my thoughts. But solitude wasn't what had dragged me out of bed at 4:30 AM, wasn't what had my stomach twisted into knots as I traced lazy figure eights across the center line.

After Owen ghosted me once and canceled our second date with a vague text, this seemed like my only option to corner him.

Just a scheduling issue, I reasoned, tracing figure-eights into the fresh ice. Nothing to worry about. But the knot in my stomach suggested otherwise.

I couldn’t help but feel like something was going on, but I couldn't figure out what it could be.

Voices echoed from the hockey hallway, followed by the distinctive clatter of gear bags hitting benches. My heart kicked against my ribs. The guys usually practiced later, but Owen was always here early, running drills with a few dedicated teammates.

His skates hit the ice before he spotted me. The moment his eyes met mine, something flickered across his face—surprise? Disappointment? It vanished so quickly I couldn't be sure. He murmured something to his teammates before pushing off toward me, each stroke measured and unhurried.

"Hey." The word came out steady, practiced—I'd rehearsed this moment enough times during my sleepless nights. My lips curved into what I hoped was a casual smile, not the desperate grimace it felt like.

"Hey." Owen's voice had that new distance to it, that careful neutrality that felt worse than anger. His eyes met mine for a fraction of a second before sliding away, focusing somewhere past my left shoulder. "What are you doing here?"

"What do you mean?" I forced a laugh that sounded brittle even to my ears. "I'm always here in the mornings."

"Not lately."

Typically, he would have followed that with a teasing comment about missing me. Now he just stood there, weight shifted slightly back like he was ready to retreat.

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