I go back to my food, my face heating with embarrassment, and make it another forty-five seconds before the next question erupts from inside me. “You have a lot of tattoos. How do you decide which ones to get and where to put them?”
He doesn’t look up from where he’s cutting into a scallop. “Tell me why you dropped out of law school.”
“I’m asking a question.”
“So am I.”
My fork clinks against my plate as I sag, and I consider launching it at him. “That’s different.”
“How?”
“Because—” I stop, biting the inside of my cheek. “It just is.”
I’m not embarrassed about dropping out of law school. Far from it, actually. But thinking about it reminds me that I gave up what would have likely been a stable career to pursue a passion. And I haven’t made it nearly as far as I’d hoped.
He continues to enjoy his food with infuriating calm, and the quiet returns.
I last maybe thirty seconds this time. “Do you ever get bored? Standing in the goal while everyone else is doing their thing on the ice?”
“Kennedy.”
“What?”
“Answer my question first.”
“This is stupid,” I mutter, but I shift in my seat. “I’m trying to have a conversation.”
“So have one.” He meets my eye. “Why’d you drop out?”
Stubborn man.
I open my mouth, then close it, deciding to take a page from his playbook and focus on my food, then turn another question around on him. “Why should I tell you if you won’t even tell me why you and your ex broke up?”
It’s not a bid to get him to reveal the dirty deets—although I wouldn’t say no to that—but an attempt to get him to leave it be. If he’s going to push me on a sensitive topic, then I’ll push right back.
He sets his cutlery down and leans back in his seat. “She cheated on me with a former teammate.”
A brussels sprout falls out of my mouth and onto the pristine white tablecloth, marring it with crispy brown crumbles.Well, butter my butt and call me a biscuit. He answered a question, and I didn’t even have to threaten bodily harm.
His lips twitch into a small smile at my reaction, but otherwise he’s silent. I bite my tongue so the millions of things I want to ask bubbling up inside me don’t spill out. I’ve never been good at censoring my thoughts, but I don’t think he’ll take too kindly to most of them, and with that steak knife so close to his left hand, it’s not worth the risk.
“Are you okay?” he asks, elbows resting on the table. “Because you’re holding your breath and your face is turning red.”
Air rushes out of my lungs. “I’m trying not to bombard you with the ninety-seven things I want answers to,” I admit, the words spilling out of me so quickly they blend together.
He rolls his eyes like it pains him and waves. “I’d rather you not pass out, so ask away.”
He clearly doesn’t know the kind of trouble he’s getting himself into with a carte blanche direction like “ask away.”His problem, not mine. I take a deep breath and launch into my questions like a daytime reporter breaking news: “How did you find out? Did she admit it right away or did you have to drag it out of her? Did you go all Carrie Underwood and slash her car tires with your keys? Do your friends know what happened or did you say it ended because of irreconcilable differences? I know that’s a divorce term but?—”
“Kennedy.” He holds up a hand, the hint of a smile tugging at his mouth. I can’t tell if he’s entertained or exasperated. “One question at a time.”
I flip through them all, considering which answer I’m most eager for. I’d like a response to all of them, but this is a touchy subject, and I don’t want to appear insensitive or nosy. Well, I don’t really care about coming across as nosy, but the insensitive part is true.
I take a deep breath and ask, “Are you okay?”
He picks up his water glass but sets it back down without drinking. “I wasn’t for a while, but I am now. And before you ask, no, I don’t miss her. I’m not heartbroken. I’m just—” He stops, his lips pressed together, his eyes drifting to one side. “Done. I’m just done with people.”
I study him across the table. I was a mess when my ex and I broke up, and I was the one who ended it, so I can’t imagine what that kind of betrayal would do to a person.
