Page 70 of IOU

I’ve never had this happen.

Sebastian and Rowan know the truth about the favors, but they profit from my deals by collecting interest. I don’t need the money. I just want the IOU. But Ainsley won’t profit. There’s nothing to stop her from getting mad at me and spilling everything she knows about my IOU operation.

She stands a little taller. “I don’t care what people think of me or the lies they will tell after this.”

And that’s what I adore about her. She is who she is. Take her or leave her—she conforms to no one. Not even me.

“I’ll use one of your IOUs as payment for bringing me to the hospital,” I tell her. It’s not a thank you but a contract. I need all of this to stay as a contract.

She flops down on the bed, not caring if she jostles me, and grabs the remote. “Shut up.”

I chuckle. “I’m serious. I appreciate your help. Let me take one of your million IOUs away.”

She scrolls through the channels.

“They have limited channels in here,” I say after realizing she intends to ignore me. “You won’t find that sea otter shit you’re looking for.”

“They’re sea lions, not otters,” she corrects, settling on the National Geographic channel and lying back, pushing me over in the process.

We sit quietly for a moment, watching rhinos bumble around when she whispers, “I didn’t help you because I felt like I owed you.”

Ahh. Always the giver. “You should.”

“You don’t scare me, Maverick Lexington.”

I shake my head. “You don’t want to be my friend, Ainsley James.”

I catch her lips tip up in an almost smile. “You’re right. I don’t want to be your friend. I want to be your roomie.”

After a miserable few hours in the hospital, Dr. Kallay finally agrees to release me but not before stressing that I need to tell Pops about what I’ve been doing to his company. I don’t plan on fulfilling that request anytime soon. What Pops doesn’t know won’t hurt him.

“You want anything to eat?” Ainsley calls out from the kitchen.

I shake my head. “No, thanks.”

I just need a shower and maybe a fucking nap. Every time I’m tachycardic, I sleep for hours afterward. It’s like the world’s worst workout.

Fingering the snug and ridiculous shirt of a penguin eating ice cream, I snatch it off and toss it in the hamper. Ainsley was so proud of herself when she pulled that damn thing from her bag and handed it over.

“Here,” she had said. “I grabbed a change of clothes for you.”

I thought she had meant my clothes.

“I’m not wearing this,” I told her, handing it back over.

She had looked so smug. “Then you’ll walk out in a hospital gown. Your choice.”

I was so done and so turned on that I yanked that stupid shirt over my head, grabbed her hand, and pulled her out of the building in 2.5 seconds flat.

Today went to utter shit—almost comically so.

Yesterday, I was leaving her a picture to burn and hoping she would move on, and today, I’m holding her hand and wearing her fucking penguin shirt.

Sebastian would get such a thrill out of seeing me like this. Confused. Pissed. Happy. I’m like a hormonal teenage girl.

I guess it doesn’t matter, though. Soon, Ainsley will be gone—thanks to Mike and his dad and my generous donation to her housing fund—and she’ll take all these fucking feelings with her.

Quickly, I hop in the shower before shutting myself in my bedroom for a while, chewing on the end of an unlit cigarette, and shuffling a deck of cards.

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