I blinked. “Excuse me?”
“Casey. Did she see you?”
“I don’t know. Why?”
His eyes dropped to my leg. Then came back to mine.
“I didn’t want her coming after you.”
My stomach tightened.
“Coming after me how?”
He rubbed a hand over the back of his neck. “I don’t know. She’s unpredictable. I didn’t want her seeing you in my jersey and deciding to pull a Tonya Harding on your injured leg.”
I stared at him.
Then looked down at my leg.
Then back at him.
“That is the least romantic thing anyone has ever said to me.”
“I’m not trying to be romantic. I’m telling you the girl is nuts.”
“What did you do to her?”
“Dated her.”
I waited.
He spread both hands like that explained everything. “What? Once you’ve had Travers in your bed, it’s hard to go back to anything else.”
I snorted before I could stop it.
Actually snorted.
“Really, Drew?”
His mouth twitched, and there he was again. Not fully. But enough.
“Fine.” He dropped the grin, though his eyes still had that flicker of arrogant trouble. “Seriously? I was good to her. Probably too good. I stayed when I should’ve walked. Answered calls I should’ve blocked. Let her make emergencies out of feelings because I thought being patient made me a good guy.”
Something about that landed too softly.
Too honestly.
“So she can’t get over you because you were decent?” I asked.
“Because I didn’t know how to end things clean,” he said. “And because she doesn’t do closure. She does campaigns.”
I looked toward the crowd again.
Casey was gone, but the shape of her stayed in the air.
“Should I be worried?”
His face hardened instantly. “No.”
