Page 96 of Break Point
When will I learn to shut up …?
This is exhausting and more frustrating than I thought it would be. It’s not my business, and I know it, but I can’t help but feel so irrationally jealous. I’m back to square one with Henry, feeling like he’s hiding something from me. Or a few things.
“Evan is my ex’s little sister,” he finally admits. “I broke up with her a few weeks before I left, and she didn’t exactly take it well. I just … walked away and never looked back.”
Henry never mentioned any girlfriends. Not that I asked, but the omission makes me feel like he doesn’t trust me enough to tell me about his time in Chicago. It’s like I don’t know him anymore.
I still remember the day he came home for Sunday brunch with his parents and with Becky Rogers clinging to his side. His first girlfriend.
I was ten and didn’t speak to him for a week afterward.
“Evan and I trained at the same tennis complex. She introduced me to Madison.” A flicker of pain crosses his eyes. He might still be hung up on her, and that’s the reason for this confusing mess between us.
Madison.
“That’s your area of expertise, isn’t it? Leaving.”
I know I’m being unfair, but I can’t help it.
“I feel like I don’t know you. It makes me feel so stupid that I’ve been nothing but an open book, and you …” I throw my hands up and let them fall to my sides, exhaling in defeat.
“Bells, it’s me,” he says, stepping closer.
I instinctively back away.
“Nobody knows me better than you do. I mean it.”
He keeps coming, slow and steady, like he’s not going to stop until I hear him.
I move again until my back hits the wall.
He stops in front of me, close but not touching.
“And I’d rather no one else ever does.”
Something in me buckles. That should mean something. Itdoes. But instead of warmth, it fills me with doubt.
“Evan looks older than me, and she’s your ex’s little sister?” I aim for steady, but I don’t pull it off. “How old is Madison?”
It’s a dumb thing to fixate on, but there it is.
“She’s twenty-three,” he reveals.A full five years older than me.No wonder he’s struggling to see me as more than a childhood friend. He’s already been with someone older. With a woman. And I’m just now figuring out how to become one.
Henry leans in slowly. Carefully. His face is so close to mine that I would’ve kissed him in a different scenario. It’s the only thing I think about before I fall asleep every night. The way his gaze lingers on my lips tells me he probably wants me to.
I won’t kiss him.
My chin lifts slightly, and he bends lower, meeting me halfway. I part my lips, searching for a reply, my eyes locked on his.
“Take off your goddamn hoodie or get the hell out.”
“No.” He steps back, sets his Sportaid on the table, and crosses his arms.
“Then you know where the door is.”
I turn and get two steps in before he grabs my waist and draws me in.
And I let him. I always do, even when I shouldn’t.
