Page 71 of Hard to Lose

“Both. Me. I don’t know.” I shrug with indifference when I’m anything but indifferent. “We did this trivia thing on our date the last night. I’ll spare you the details, but it was a fun outside-of-the-box type of date. Anyway, one of the questions we had to answer each other was what one thing was a deal-breaker for him in a relationship. His answer was deception and being deceived.” I swallow over the words. “Does that paint a clearer picture for you?”

“When has it ever mattered to you if someone thought you were something other than who you are?” Brexton asks. “You’ve played the femme-fatale, the ball-busting bitch, and the patient, unassuming good girl, all in the name of playing to the athlete—or man—you’re wanting to get.”

“Because it matters,” I say.

This matters.

He matters.

“Why? I mean it’s just sex, right?” Dekker says.

Brexton laughs and the sarcasm edging it grates on my nerves. “We’ve been there before, Chase. We’ve maybe even made the same excuse. Let’s face it, this is more than sex.”

“I said we’re enjoying each other’s company,” I explain.

“Fine. Sure. You’re simply enjoying each other’s company. If that’s the case, I don’t get what the big deal is. You’ve broken many men’s hearts before,” Dekker says. “Unless . . .”

“No. I haven’t fallen for him,” I say.

“Who said anything about falling for anyone?” she asks, her tone coy and gloating.

“No one. You forget, I’m not like you two,” I assert, trying to keep perspective in this conversation. The last thing I need is to give them something to gloat about.

“That’s what we’ve all said until it was our turn,” Brexton says, and of course, she’s the last of us to fall prey to the whole relationship, happily-ever-after thing.

“I know I said it,” Dekker chimes in.

“Look. He’s a good guy. I don’t want to hurt him, but is it so wrong to want to enjoy the rest of the time I have with him? He makes me laugh. He makes me feel good. I actually want to spend time with him—”

“Whoa. You feeling okay?” Brexton asks, and I realize how unlike me that comment sounds.

“Funny. I’m being serious,” I say.

“Let her finish what she was saying,” Dekker says.

“Is it so wrong that I simply want to enjoy the time I have left with him in whatever parameter this is—wrong or not?” I ask. “Besides, I made promises at The Center. That I’d volunteer through the end of the month. I can’t let the kids down.”

“And just like that, you’d walk away when it’s time to come home? You actually think after all of this ‘fun’ you two are having that it will be that easy? What about him? Put yourself in his shoes. How would you feel if someone was doing the same to you?”

I’d be crushed. Pissed. Confused.

I don’t answer out loud because they already know the answer. They know how much I value morals and honesty, and here I am being a total, fucking hypocrite.

“Maybe I just need to figure out why this guy, his letter, and everything about this situation has taken hold of me since day one and never let go,” I murmur.

“Here’s the advice I’m going to give you,” Dekker says as she shifts to mom-big sister mode. “I understand what you’re saying and your line of thinking, but you need to be honest with yourself. The reason you’re willing to compromise your integrity and the woman we all know is because there’s something more between the two of you. Is it fast? Perhaps, but sometimes when you know, you know. You need to admit to yourself that you’re doing this because you more than like him. And you need to understand that it’s not going to be as easy as you think to walk away from him in the end.”

Her words make me feel like my throat is closing up on me. “That’s ridic—”

“Hear me out,” she says. “I’m not—we’re not going to judge you regardless of what decision you make. But we also know you and know you feel guilty if you even think you’ve hurt one of our feelings. So the question you need to ask yourself is how are you going to spend all this time with him, soak him up and cram months into weeks with him, and not let the guilt eat you alive while doing so? Because if that’s the case, then you’re going to be so preoccupied with it, your time won’t be of any quality.”

“I don’t know,” I mumble, more to myself than to them.

“Well, you have to know,” Brexton interjects. “If you’re going to be there and enjoy your time, you can’t be feeling guilty every damn second of it.”

And she’s right. I can’t. “Have any advice on how to do that?”

“There’s no easy answer,” Dekker says.