“Why didn’t youeversay anything about Jameson? What is wrong with you?”
“You said yes when he proposed. I thought youlovedhim, and I wanted you to be happy even if it meant I was miserable.”
“Patterson …” Her voice cracks on my name. “I’m so pissed off at you both.”
“Hey! That wasn’t my fault. I was being respectful. For your sake. Fuck Jameson.”
She reaches up and touches my face, her fingers tracing along my jaw.
“Sometimes, I really hate you,” she says, but she’s smiling.
I close my eyes because if I look at her right now, I might fall apart. “Ken?—”
Her thumb brushes across my bottom lip. “I’ve been so angry at you for so long. I hated the way you treated me, the constant hostility, the cruelty.”
“It was easier.” I open my eyes and meet her gaze. “Ihatedmyself for wanting you, that I couldn’t stop, no matter how hard I tried. Every time I saw you, every time you walked into a room, you reminded me of everything I could never have.”
“And what changed?” she whispers.
“You came back,” I admit. “It felt like a second chance.”
All distance between us disappears.
“It is,” she says. “What are we going to do about it?”
My hands find her hips, pulling her against me. “I don’t fucking know.”
“We’re going to try.” She tilts her head up, her mouth hovering below mine. “But I have concerns.”
“About?”
“My dad. Your career,” she whispers, studying me. “I can’t allow you to risk this right now. I read online that your contract is up for renewal at the end of the season.”
“And?” I ask. “Do you really think your dad will trade one of his most valuable players?”
She blinks up at me. “Yes.”
I wasn’t expecting that response. “Really?”
“Yes,” she says matter-of-factly. “When it comes to me, he doesn’t give two fucks about an MVP. I’m not a game, Patterson. Neither is your career.”
I stick strands of hair behind her ear. “You’re right. We’ll figure it out. Okay?”
She nods, and when I lean in to kiss her, it feels different. It’s slow and raw, and it splits my heart wide open.
She pulls back to look at me, her eyes searching my face. “Stay with me tonight.”
“I shouldn’t.”
“Why not?” she says. “You’re dressed like your brother.”
I smirk. “Want to go out on the town?”
“No,” she says, stepping back to show me what she’s wearing. “Once the jammies are on, I don’t leave. I … I just want to be with you.”
“Mmm.” I brush her hair back from her face. “I do enjoy the sound of that.”
She takes my hand and leads me toward her bedroom. The sheets are still rumpled from this morning, and there’s a book open on her nightstand, the spine cracked. A receipt hangs out of the middle. These are the details I never let myself notice before. It’s small pieces of her life that exist outside of whatever we are together.
