“It’s not my story to tell, but her ex was a dick, and so she doesn’t trust many people. Or maybe she doesn’t trust me. I did fuck up a couple of times and not have her back like I should’ve.”
“Maybe. Or she doesn’t trust herself,” Jaxon offers.
I laugh. “Have you met Kelsey? She’s the most confident person I know.”
The look on Jaxon’s face suggests he doesn’t agree, but there is no way Kelsey doesn’t know exactly how amazing she is. She’s the smartest person in any room, she is fucking gorgeous, and if that’s not enough, she actually gives a shit about the people in her life, including dumbasses like Nash. She’s perfect.
“You’ve got it so fucking bad,” Jaxon says, finishing off his drink. “I’m the last person you should be taking romance advice from, since I’ve never had a relationship that lasted longer than the length of time I was in a city for a show—and now I can’t even get it up without picturing my old best friend’s face—but if I were you, I’d get my shit together and figure out a way to convince Kelsey you’re someone worth keeping around.”
As I lie awake in bed that night, alone, staring at the ceiling of my room, I know he’s right. I’m just not sure how I’m going to convinceher I’m worth it. Especially with this rivalry inserting itself between us, giving her an easy out.
Chapter twenty-three
Kelsey
“You’reanidiot,”Itell Nash as he pauses midway through his story about the time he and his Army buddies decided to try heliskiing.
I’m only half listening, but any time Nash is this excited about a story, there’s almost no doubt in my mind that calling him an idiot is the correct answer.
He laughs good-naturedly before diving back into his tale, not noticing he has almost none of my attention. Instead, I’m focused on the man across the aisle.
Carter didn’t come up to my room last night. I stayed awake way longer than I should’ve, expecting every sound from the hallway to be him, every buzz of my phone to be a text asking to come join me, but nothing.
I don’t know what to do with his silence. It’s almost like he’s back to the guy he was before this trip—the one who never had anything to say to me.
I run my fingers over my phone screen, considering texting him, but what would I even say?Hey, why did you sit with Weston when the seat in my row was still open? Are you mad at me? Did I do something wrong?
The worst part is, I can’t help but feel like I did do something wrong. Like Carter expected something from me, and I didn’t deliver. I hate being wrong, but I feel like I somehow let Carter down. And that feeling? It’s worse.
I’m just not sure what it could be. We agreed we were keeping this casual. Spending every night together would be the opposite of casual. Plus, I can’t keep up with my work if I’m spending every minute I’m not at the venue with him. I’m sure he needs the time too.
“Do you want to talk about it?” Nash asks, pulling me back. A smirk plays at the corner of his lips.
“Talk about what?” I ask.
“Why you keep staring over my shoulder? Or—and you’re really going to be impressed by my powers of perception here—why, after sitting together on basically every flight so far, Carter left the seat next to you open.”
Fucking Nash. Sometimes he’s such a pain in my ass, I forget he’s actually good at his job.
“I’m sure he had important things to talk to Weston about.”
“Sure. Makes total sense,” Nash says, taking a drink of the soda he ordered when the flight attendant came by a few minutes ago. “And it’s not at all suspicious that you phrased it as ‘I’m sure he had’ rather than ‘he had.’ Makes it seem like you guys maybe haven’t talked today.”
I glare at him, but his smile just grows.
“Fine, Sherlock, what’s your theory?” I ask, hating myself for asking, but also clearly needing someone else’s perspective.
“Funny you should ask,” he says, leaning forward slightly.
When I don’t lean in as well, he crooks his finger a couple of times to beckon me.
I lean in with a sigh, and Nash smiles at his victory.
“Well, my working theory is that the two of you are fucking,” he says, his tone light.
“Fucking? Really, Nash? No one calls it that.”
“Yeah, they do, Kels.”
