Page 12 of Ruled Out

The man in front of me looks like he’s spent several nights sleeping rough, and that breaks my fucking heart clean down the center.

Do I love Jessie Callaghan?

At one time, I was sure I did. When Dad told me he was being traded and I’d never see him again, I locked myself away in my room and cried until not just my eyes, but my entire body ached.

Ultimately, I convinced myself it was young love, and the sadness turned to anger and resentment. He never called me, and he left my messages on Read—the two blue check marks made my stomach flip in the worst way.

In the end, I was glad I hadn’t given my virginity to Jessie Callaghan. Because he didn’t deserve to have it.

Neither of us has moved since I whispered his name into the silence.

“W-why—h-how are you here?”

He looks back at the books and squeezes his eyes shut.

When he slides a random book off the shelf, he studies the front cover and laughs silently, but nothing about this is funny. “Figured this was the best place to start with self-help,” he pushes out.

Other than a few words telling me he wasn’t feeling well when I saw him in Whistler, I haven’t spoken to him directly in months.

Last summer, we spent a couple of hours together when he took me out for dinner one night in Dallas. He’d finally replied to one of my texts when I’d asked if he was okay.

He was an asshole that night. He told me he wanted me, but that we couldn’t be together and I was better off moving on and being away from him. The cold way he delivered it cut through my bones.

I know I shouldn’t have gone to Whistler and waited for him in that café. I should’ve listened to him last year. But when Coach Burrows—my dad’s closest friend and a guy I’ve known for most of my life—invited me to his house for Thanksgiving last year, I couldn’t help but overhear him telling his wife that Jessie and his friends were spending the holidays in Creekside Village. I wanted to see him, to see that he was doing okay. To tell him I was doing what I’d threatened so many times—leaving the Destroyers and following my dream of studying psychology.

But the second he flew out of that café, I knew I’d made a mistake, traveling all that way from Seattle. I knew I had to let him go.

And I did, as much as it hurt to accept that we were over.

So, why is he here?

“You want to study psychology?” I reply, still in a daze that he’s standing in front of me. “Do you go here? Like, as a student or something?”

Why the fuck would he be a student, Mia?

He still doesn’t look at me fully as he continues to stare down at the hardback in his hands. “Why didn’t you tell me you’d moved to Seattle?”

At last, when he looks at me, I see it—the pain. My jaw is agape as I struggle to contain my reaction to his appearance.

“I did. Well, I tried to tell you back in Whistler, but you ran out on me, leaving me in a random café with your friends. You know, the super-famous hockey friends you have. And their wives or girlfriends and babies.”

Fuck me, that was embarrassing, as they all stared straight at me. I swear one of them—the goalie, Jensen Jones—knew exactly who I was.

He’d either seen one of theveryfew public photos of me and Dad and recognized me—which I doubt—or Jessie had told him about us.

Part of me hoped for the latter, that he’d missed me enough to talk about me.

He blows out a silent, humorless laugh and drums his fingers on the front of the book. “I needed to see you. To check you were okay. I was told you were studying here, and I knew there was only one subject you’d take. So, I took a gamble and came here.” With his free hand, he scratches the back of his neck. “Third day’s the charm.”

My eyes go wide. “You’ve been coming here for three days?”

“Yep.” He pops theP.

He takes a couple of steps toward me, and every single hair on my body rises in response to his movement.

I point at the book still in his hand. “Are you actually a member of the library and going to check that book out?”

When he comes to stand only a foot or so in front of me, I look up at his six-three frame. I’d still need to stand on my tiptoes to kiss him.

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