“Yeah?” I lean forward, letting my voice skim the space between us. “Then let’s do it again. See if it’s a pattern or an exception.”
Sloane inhales sharply, clearly wrestling herself back into the role of professional matchmaker.
She shakes her head, firm. “The only pattern I see is your immaturity. Now, if you’re done, I have work to do.”
I fall back into my chair, laughing softly.
“For the record, I’m not going.”
“Oh, you’re going.”
“Nope.”
“Cohen, it’s in the contract. My father approved it.”
I groan.
“Fine,” I say eventually, standing. “Knock yourself out. Find my soulmate.”
She closes the tablet, stands, and slides it into a drawer.
End of session.
End of… whatever the hell that moment was earlier.
And I’m left wondering why the back of my throat burns a little, like it’s not just pride.
Like some part of me—small, stupid—actually expected something.
Maybe we could see each other outside of this.
The thought hits before I can block it.
Session over.
Okay.
I leave before I embarrass myself any more.
14
Unofficial House Arrest
Cohen
I don’t know if you can technically call it an escape, but my version of an “exit” consists of avoiding Sloane, this tiny fucking town, and retreating to Dominic Voss’s house.
Welcome to Elm Hollow: the town where everyone knows everything, except how to mind their own damn business.
And if they were to find out that a player from one of the county’s major soccer teams is hanging around here… I’d be swamped by the nightmare of gossip again.
So I head back to Dominic’s house, hooded as always, and ready to disappear.
Now more than ever.
I find him sitting on the sofa, a cup of coffee in hand, his laptop never leaving his side.
He gives me a slow look, without moving a single muscle.
