I almost smiled at that. Almost. “I haven’t done that since eighth grade, Tinsley.”
“Doesn’t mean you haven’t tried,” she shot back, but there was less venom in it than usual.
TWENTY
The campus coffee shop buzzed with its typical March energy—students hunched over laptops, the steady hum of conversation mixing with the hiss of the espresso machine. I had snagged the corner table by the window while Drew ordered our drinks, and now we sat across from each other with textbooks and laptops creating a careful fortress between us. Steam rose from our drinks—black coffee for him, caramel latte for me—and I wrapped my hands around my cup, using the warmth to steady myself.
It felt safer this way. Professional. Like we were just two students working on an assignment together and not…whatever the hell was happening between us.
I’d questioned whether Drew had been body-snatched, but now I was wondering if I needed to worry about myself considering how out of character I’d been reacting to him lately.
It was weird.
And I needed it to stop.
Like pronto.
I glanced at the window, but alas, no pigs were flying.
Drew opened his laptop and pulled up a psychology journal article. “For the presentation, I was thinking we zoom in on how early bonds shape emotional development—like, the part that influences relationship patterns later on.”
I tilted my head. “Because nothing says ‘fun class project’ like dissecting everyone’s childhood trauma.”
His mouth curved into a smirk. My gaze lingered on his mouth, and I caught myself before he noticed. I cleared my throat. “Um, so how’s Rory sleeping? Getting any better?”
Drew looked up from his screen. “A little, maybe. She’s starting to sleep for slightly longer stretches at night.” He rubbed the back of his neck, and I noticed his hands looked slightly shaky from what was probably too much caffeine and not enough sleep. “Still not great, but we’re figuring it out.”
Single parenthood was clearly kicking his ass, even with all the help from his sister and teammates. But I also didn’t miss the way his eyes lit up a little when he talked about his daughter.
That look made me want to get all soft for him, which I couldn’t let myself do.
Which was the only explanation for what I said next, despite knowing deep down it was a low blow.
The words were out before I could stop them, sharp and defensive. “I bet having a baby is really affecting your hockey performance.”
I immediately wanted to take it back. It was a shitty thing to say, born out of my desperate need to put some distance between us before I started thinking too much about how good he looked when he talked about his daughter. I knew how much hockey had always meant to him.
Drew went completely still. His fingers stopped movingon his keyboard, and when he looked up at me, I felt my stomach drop. He didn’t look mad or annoyed.
He looked hurt. Really hurt.
Which could only mean I’d hit the nail on the head.
Shit.
Was it possible to feel lower than pond scum?
The silence stretched between us, thick and uncomfortable.
“I suppose I deserve that,” he said finally, his voice quiet but steady. He leaned forward slightly, and his gaze focused on me with an intensity that had me holding my breath. “After all, we’ve been at each other’s throats for years. But you’ve seen me with my daughter, Harper. If you still think I’m the guy I used to be after seeing me with her, then you’re not nearly as observant as I gave you credit for.”
Heat creeped up my neck as guilt twisted in my stomach. He was right, and we both knew it. I had seen him with Rory, had watched him transform into someone gentle, protective, and completely devoted. And here I was, being a bitch because he was starting to make me feel things that scared the crap out of me.
We turned back to our laptops, both of us typing notes and pulling up research articles, but the atmosphere had shifted. The easy academic focus was gone, replaced by this heavy tension that made it hard to concentrate. I kept sneaking glances at Drew, watching the way his mouth was set in a hard line and the way he was staring at his screen a little too intently.
The coffee shop chatter seemed louder now, more distracting. Someone’s phone kept buzzing at the table behind us. A girl near the counter was having an increasingly heated phone conversation about her roommate’sboyfriend. But none of it could drown out the uncomfortable silence that had settled between Drew and me.
I tried to focus on our research, but I kept rereading the same paragraph without absorbing any of it.
