Page 14 of Ruled Out

I wouldn’t know. I only focused on the one of her.

She straightens slightly in her chair and picks her mug back up, her face changing from amused to annoyed. “What does it matter anyway? And why were you looking at my profile?”

Yeah, why were you looking, Jessie?

I’ve got no answer to that, so instead, I scuff the floor lightly with my sneaker and lean my forearms on the table, twisting my hands together.

When I bring my attention back to her, it’s clear she’s watching, maybe even appreciating the way my biceps and forearms flex with the motion. I run hot most days, so a T-shirt and thick coat are all I need, even in a Seattle winter. When your trauma-affected body runs on cortisol, you rarely feel the cold.

“So, you’re single?”

Jesus fucking Christ, Jessie, rein it in. You shouldn’t even be talking to her, let alone checking on her dating status.

“Yes,” she drawls. “I am still single. I’m also well overdue on the assignment I was working on in the library.”

I pick up my glass of water and take a sip, trying to push past her need to leave and study. I’m not ready to let her go yet. “How’s college going?”

“Are we friends now or something?”

She still looks annoyed, but past that, I can see the hurt in her eyes, like she’s finding seeing me difficult. I’ve given her zero answers since whatever we had ended, and I have zero to offer her now too.

“Do you want to be, Mia?”

She runs her tongue across her perfect white teeth and then thumbs to her bag. “Yeah, sure. Let me just give my dad a call, and you can call Burrows, and we can run it past them. I’m sure they’ll be fine with it.”

“Couldn’t give a fuck what they think, Mia.” It’s the truth. I couldn’t really.

Sure, I need hockey, but Coach isn’t about to trade me if I can clean up my act and stop turning up to games and practices half-cocked. I’ve got a lot of respect for what Graham did for me as a boy, but I’ll be goddamned if he dictates who I can and can’t see, even his daughter. If I can avoid him getting his hands around my throat, I’ll survive.

The real issue is me. It’s always been me, and it always will be. I live two lives. The Jessie I want Mia to see and the one who lives back where I grew up—South Boulevard–Park Row. I’ll never shake my past while it remains my present.

“I’m worried about you, Jessie.”

I know she is, and I know it’s partly responsible for the pain in her eyes.

“I’m fine. I’ll be fine.” I take a deep breath, filling my lungs. “I just heard you were living here, and it would’ve been weird if I hadn’t come to see you. There’s … too much history between us not to,” I say on an exhale.

She smiles, and fuck if it doesn’t make me want to smile too.

“Do you ever think about that day in my bedroom?” Mia keeps her green eyes on mine, searching me, maybe even pleading for her answer once more.

“I think about a lot of moments, Mia.”

Her eyes begin to shine, and she swipes her long hair over her shoulder in haste. “What moments?”

The kind of moments I’ve never been able to—and never want to try to—re-create with any other woman.

A smile creeps onto my face; it’s subtle, but it’s there, and it lifts me when I see it reflected on her. “Secret moments.”

I watch as she bites on the inside of her cheek and looks off to the side.

“Special moments,” she adds.

A few beats of silence pass between us. The temptation to climb over the table separating us, haul her into my arms, and take her back to my place is overwhelming. Graham could arrest me on the way there, but I’d still find a way to lay beside her tonight.

If only it were that fucking simple. Jensen would tell me it is. But he doesn’t know shit about me. No one does. Not even Mia.

And I’ll never let her either—because at that point, she’d have seen too much. She’d be in too deep in a life I’d never let her get mixed up in.

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