And that was something I couldn’t do. Not with her. Not with anyone.
I was almost to the door when she called out.
“Wait!”
For reasons I couldn’t explain, my feet stopped. I turned back.
She looked from me, down to a stack of papers spread across the table, then back up. Something shifted in her eyes. Uncertainty, resolve, and something I didn’t have the energy to decipher.
Several seconds stretched between us before she finally said, “I might be able to help you.”
CHAPTER 6
ROXIE
Imight be able to help you.
The words had flown out of my mouth like they’d been shot from a cannon, and the second Ledger turned back toward me—tired, guarded, beautiful in that frustrating, broody-athlete way—I realized I had absolutely no idea what I was actually offering.
Which was … not ideal.
My heart thudded as he took a few hesitant steps back toward the table, hands shoved into the pockets of his jeans like he was afraid they might give away too much. Which, honestly, they probably would. Ledger always fidgeted when he didn’t want anyone to see he was unraveling.
And today? He was coming apart at the seams.
He stopped a few feet from the table, jaw tight. “What do you mean, you might be able to help me?”
Right.
That.
My brain scrambled for something, anything, to buy me time.
“I—just sit.” I gestured to the seat across from mine.
His eyes narrowed suspiciously. “Why?”
“Because standing makes you look like you’re about to bolt.”
He didn’t argue, which was alarming in its own right. Ledger Hayes never did anything simply because I asked him to. But he lowered himself into the chair slowly, like his body had twice the weight it normally carried. Even exhausted, he moved with that same controlled strength that always made people stare at him on deck.
And I had a feeling it wasn’t from training. It was from life.
I swallowed hard as I sat down and glanced at the stack of papers I’d been reviewing before he showed up—my annual trust fund disbursement documents. A reminder I was approaching the deadline to submit my notarization.
I’d been staring at it while sipping iced coffee and pretending I still didn’t feel guilty about overhearing Ledger’s conversation outside the Wilson Center earlier in the week. Remembering Ledger muttering something about “his last real shot” and “I’ll figure it out,” in that tone people use when they’re pretending they aren’t scared.
I wasn’t supposed to hear it. I hadn’t meant to hear it.
But it had burrowed into my mind.
Ledger Hayes—the invincible, infuriating swim god—was falling apart. And he’d been trying so hard to hide it from everyone.
Including me.Especiallyme.
Now he watched me with those dark, stormy eyes, waiting for an answer I didn’t have.
Well. Not one I could say out loud yet.
