Her look is more confused than his. “What are you doing?” she asks, though she does make room for me.
Sitting down, I stretch my arm out behind her, nearly crowding her. “I wanted to sit with my wife.” I lightly emphasize the last two words. “Is that really so strange?”
“Ha. No, man. Not at all,” Jenkins says loud enough that it covers Hailey’s muttered, “Little bit, yeah, actually.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
One of her eyebrows lifts. “You don’t have to come over here and stake your claim, Jason.” She says it in the same tone you use to explain something to a child. “Everyone here knows I’m taken. But you?” She shrugs one shoulder. “Don’t let me hold you back from your adoring fans.” Her eyes flick toward the bar, and I clench my jaw at the implication that there’s any world where I’d choose to be with some random woman rather than withmy wife.
I study her, and she returns my gaze coolly. “Should we take off so we can have this out?” I ask just above a whisper.
“I’m not sure what you mean by that,” she responds just as quietly.
I arch an eyebrow. “Don’t you? You agreed we need to have a conversation.”
Sighing, she seems to slump and withdraw into herself, but after a beat, she nods. Just once. A nod so slight it’s barely perceptible, and I might’ve second-guessed myself, except she shoos me out of the booth. “You’re right. Let’s go. We should talk. And the sooner we get it over with, the better.”
CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN
Hailey
My stomach clenchesas I stand from the booth and walk to the front of the Salty Salmon, waiting by the door while Jason settles our tab. The woman I saw flirting with him earlier is nowhere to be seen.
While I can admit it didn’t look like he was returning her attention, I don’t entirely understand why not. I mean, she was gorgeous, obviously knew who he was and why he’s such a big deal.
Whereas me? I know who he is because he was friends with my brother since I was a baby. I don’t know anything about hockey—or, I didn’t until very recently, anyway. And I still don’t feel like I know much despite Marissa’s best efforts. I spend half of every game peppering her with questions. Fortunately, she’s a good sport about it.
God, and I’m such a shit friend that I left without even saying anything to her.
Goddammit, Hailey. You were going to be better than that. Remember?
Annoyed, I pull out my phone to send her a quick text.
Thanks for everything tonight. I really appreciate you answering all my inane hockey questions. Sorry for bailing so fast, but Jason and I have some things we need to take care of at home
There. Not too much info, but at least an explanation so I don’t seem like such an asshole.
Marissa
Ha! Don’t worry about it at all. And I don’t mind helping you understand hockey. Also, I gave your number to my sister. Hope that’s okay! See you soon! Have fun with Jason! ;-D
Uh, sure. Thanks for giving my number to your sister!
Fingers crossed that turns into something productive. Or high paying. Or, y’know, paying anything at all.
Of course! Always happy to help a friend!
I heart react to her comment because I don’t know how to respond in words. I feel … hopeful? Happy? But also even more anxious.
How far would her help extend? To letting me crash at her place for a while if things with Jason go horribly, horribly wrong?
“Ready?” Jason asks, nearly making me jump, so wrapped up was I in my own thoughts and worries.
“Yup. Let’s go.”
He holds the door for me, but makes no move to hold my hand or anything once we’re outside. It’s like we’re strangers. Which is the weirdest feeling in the world. Jason’s never felt like a stranger to me, not even when I was trying to pretend he was one that night I delivered his food and my car broke down.
But the ease we’ve always had with each other has evaporated. I hate it, but I don’t know how—or if it’s even possible—to fix it.
