Page 68 of No Rhyme or Roughing
I cringed, recognizing that voice as someone ran to catch up with me in the lower concourse of the arena. Smoothing out my expression, I turned to Sam just as she slowed. “Hey.”
She offered me a tentative smile, awkward but not unkind. This was the woman who had Ryder for nearly a decade and broke his heart. I wanted to hate her, but it was too easy to understand her. Sometimes, we didn’t get to decide who we loved.
Or if we loved at all. I’d never experienced that all-encompassing feeling, so I couldn’t imagine it.
“So…” I shifted from one foot tothe other. “Is this as weird as it feels?” The last time I’d seen her my family had ruined her Thanksgiving. And the time before that, I’d been making out with Ryder.
She laughed. “No. Please? Let’s make itnotweird. I’m Ry’s ex, but all I want for him is to be happy. It’s all I’ve ever wanted for him.”
Translation—she didn’t think he’d been happy with her. I had to give her credit for self-awareness.
“Fuck it.” I pasted a bright smile on my face. “So, we both know how good he is in bed. Who cares?”
Her face went bright red, and I knew I’d done it again—said the exact wrong thing.
“I mean…” She laughed nervously.
“Ignore me.” I scrubbed a hand over my face. “Fucking shit. I’m not an asshole, I promise. Mind if we do a reset and start this conversation over?”
She bit back a grin and nodded, sticking out her hand. “Sydney, it’s nice to see you again.”
I stared at it. “You’re serious, aren’t you?”
“Deadly.”
Deciding I kind of liked this woman, I shook her hand, pumping it once before letting go. “Samantha, what a pleasure it is to see you this fine evening. Did you enjoy the show?”
“Very much so.”
We both burst out laughing. I wiped tears from my eyes. “Okay, what did you really want from me? I doubt it was to shake hands with the new girl your ex-boyfriend—who also happens to be your soon-to-be brother-in-law—is screwing.”
“Sullie and I are headed out for a late dinner. We… well, I wanted you two to join us. Thanksgiving wasn’t exactly a success.”
“Your fiancé is aware of this offer?”
“Not exactly.”
“Manipulative.” I grinned. “I like it. But look, I’ve known the Cassidy boys since the day I was born. They were always fighting over something—toys, girls, their parents’ affections—and they always found their way back to each other. Those two would never admit it, but theyneedeach other. So yes, absolutely, I will join in your scheme to force them to realize that. Because one Cassidy twin alone is a tragedy for them. Two Cassidy twins together is a tragedy for the world. And I love the drama.”
She stared at me for a long moment, as if trying to figure out if I was serious or not. But I never joked about drama. It wastrulybeautiful.
I clamped my lips shut, realizing I’d said too much. Ever since Thanksgiving, it was like my filter had broken beyond repair. I no longer cared if I was “too much” or talked too much. A finalfuck youto my mother. The quiet girl I’d tried to be for a decade had receded to the background.
With a nod, Sam gestured for me to walk, stepping in line with me as I did. We talked very little on our way to the hallway outside the locker rooms. She smiled and greeted security but had no more words for me.
Maybe I’d shocked her too much with my word vomit or my inability not to curse. It had gotten me into trouble before, though I always apologized profusely when it happened. Not this time.
My phone rang as we reached the locker room hall.Sam wandered off to chat with some of the other WAGs, and I leaned against the wall, psyching myself up to answer.
It wasn’t just that talking on the phone gave me literal hives, or that I immediately hated whoever called me instead of texted.
It wasthis person.
Seeing the name flashing on the screen, I sighed. This was a conversation I’d been putting off ever since the story about me and Jameson hit the news. Ever since the job offers had slowed to a trickle.
Tilting my head back against the wall, I answered and brought the phone to my ear. “Jamie.”
“Sydney, I’m so sorry.” He immediately launched into panic mode—classic Jameson. He liked the world to think he was a dark, bad boy rock star, but image was everything to him. He knew how this would hurt mine. “This wouldn’t have happened if I’d kept a closer watch on my dancers.” He paused. “Dammit, I wish you were here.”
