Page 87 of Stick With Me
“Jace Knolls is my ex.”
The confusion clears, and her cheeks flush as she quickly averts her eyes before looking back at me. “I’m so sorry about all that online stuff. I had no idea your breakup was so recent when I met Jace.”
“Oh, no worries. It actually worked out great for me,” I say, thinking about how Jace’s attempts to hurt me led me right into the arms of the man who’s made my life infinitely better. If it weren’t for that stupid photo, the whole fake dating thing never would have happened, and then I would still be blind to what Ryan and I have now. The thought of it makes me shudder.
She puts the pieces together. “That’s right, you’re dating Ryan now, aren’t you?”
“Yes.” I’m unable to stop the smile from tipping up the corners of my lips.
“He’s a great man… but wouldn’t shut up about you when we were together,” she says with a lighthearted laugh. Knowing he thought about me even back then makes my chest clench. “I’m happy it worked out for you guys.”
“Thank you, me too. Will I be seeing you around Chicago now that Jace is playing here?”
“Oh God, no. At least not with Jace. That ended before it even really started. But I’m in town for work occasionally, so maybe I’ll see you around?” She smiles shyly.
Rebecca is not at all what I expected, but then again, most of what I thought about her was a story I made up based on jealousy, and we all know how that goes.
“Well, if you’re in town and want to grab coffee… Let me give you my number.” Apparently, I’m now the kind of girl who makes friends in bathrooms, with her boyfriend’s ex, no less. Fake boyfriend, technically, but who’s keeping track?
Who even am I? Someone who’s happy and secure, maybe for the first time ever. We exchange info with promises to meet up, and she heads back to the party while I touch up my lipstick.
As I step out into the hall that leads back to the ballroom, I nearly walk right into Jace, the absolute last person I want to run into. It’s funny that only a couple of weeks ago, the idea of flaunting my relationship with Ryan in front of him felt like the perfect revenge. But now, I just want our privacy. To remain in our happy little bubble.
“Hannah, you look stunning.”
“Thanks. Congratulations,” I lie. The last thing I want is to share this city, one that has quickly become home, with him. But I’m aiming for polite indifference, which is mostly what I feel—aside from a strong sense of protectiveness over Ryan.
“Thank you.” He smiles, and it’s not his usual snarky smirk; it’s genuine. “I was hoping we could meet up, just to catch up. I want to talk about some things. Clear the air. I’ve tried texting and calling, but I’m guessing you’ve blocked my number.”
What could we possibly have to catch up on? While Jace seems dead set on digging up the past and manipulating it to get his way, I have no interest in going backward. Do I want to meet up with him? Absolutely not. But I want to do whatever I can to help Ryan remain on the Saints and not mess with the team’s dynamics.
I already feel like I’ve turned Ryan’s world upside down, and not in a good way, since I came back into his life. And I hate that. I came back to Chicago to escape all my baggage, to start fresh, but it feels like I’ve just brought it with me and made it his problem, too. I want to make his life better, the same way he’s done for me, but I can’t shake the feeling that all I’ve done is complicate things.
If clearing the air with Jace would help Ryan, I’ll do it. But because it’s Jace, and I don’t trust his nice-guy act, I say, “I’ll think about it.”
Jace nods, accepting my response without pushing, raising my suspicion further. This whole calm, almost contrite act he’s putting on unsettles me. It’s so unlike the Jace who’s shown his true colors post-breakup.
Shaking my head, I make my way back to Ryan, hoping we can salvage the rest of the night.
My back hits the kitchen wall the moment we clear the patio door, Ryan lifting and pressing me against it with a force that steals my breath. His mouth meets mine, only pulling away to mutter, “I’m getting you upstairs this time.”
His lips silence my huff of laughter, the protest dying on my tongue as our bodies push tight. Using the leverage from the wall, I grind my hips against his stomach, silently thanking myself for choosing a dress with a high slit, allowing me to move without restriction.
He trails kisses down my neck and chest, the contact making us both groan. “No,” he murmurs, more to himself than to me, before hiking me up and securing me to him with a tight grip on my butt. He heads toward the stairs.
“Put me down. I can walk. You’re going to hurt yourself.”
He ignores me, only letting out a huff of breath that tells me he heard.
By the time we reach the second-floor landing, I squirm until he’s forced to set me on my feet. But when I try to keep going up the stairs, he catches my wrist, dropping to his knees and pulling me down with him. “You shouldn’t have stopped me, Sunshine,” he says, his gravelly voice sending a shiver down my spine.
He guides me until I’m lying on the hardwood floor, my back arching as my skin meets the cool surface. “Wha—what are you—doing?” I manage to ask through panting breaths.
He speaks against my skin as he kisses a trail up my legs.
Soft lips and stubble graze my ankle. “I’ve.”
A lick on my calf. “Worked.”
