Page 113 of Hard Pass

“Not really but when it runs its course, it runs its course. I’ve never been one to hang on for fear of being alone. I’m busy and it’s just too much drama that I don’t have time for.”

He doesn’t ask more. He doesn’t joke. He just takes it in, lips pursed and head nodding once, and I wonder why it matters to him.

I clear my throat. “Next question?”

He chuckles and accepts my change of topic much in the same way I did when I wanted to ask about his dad.

“Why this? Your job?” he asks.

“Probably the same as you”—I tug on his hair—“because I’m really good at it.”

“Clearly.”

“I needed an internship in college and fell into a role at GIA. It was a menial position, one solely to put on my resume. One day while scanning documents in the system for a really tough case, I mentioned a pattern I saw in it. That pattern is what cracked the case open. Marcus was impressed and offered me a full-time job when I graduated.”

“Impressive.”

I shrug. “I like the structure and logic of it all. You follow data and it leads you somewhere.”

“And people?”

I look down and smile. “They complicate it.”

“Some. Most.” He rocks his head from side to side, his hair tickling my bare thighs as he does. “That’s why I keep my circle small. Less complications when you’ve known each other since high school and can read each other like a book.”

“The guys that were at practice the other week?”

“Yep. Jaxon, Malachi, and Tristan.” His voice is easy, familiar. “We do drinks after practice on Wednesdays, and then I hang with them before I come in for games on Sundays. It’s been our thing since my college days.”

“It’s good to surround yourself with people who ground you,” I say, more of an observation than a question.

And probably people I should run a cursory check on. Not sure how they flew under my radar, but in all my years doing this, the people who’ve been there for the long haul aren’t the culprits.

I make a mental note regardless.

“Yeah. It’s hard to trust people when you find success and these guys knew me when. They’re my good luck charms . . . come to think of it, maybe we need to switch our schedule up since it seems the luck is wearing thin.” He says it absently, like the stress of his yips and whatever the fuck else is going on is secondary right now. There’s something extremely attractive about that to me. “We had to do that once or twice in college.”

“Did it work?”

“From what I remember.” He smiles but it fades faster than it should.

“You’ll find your footing again, Cole.”

“I better.” His eyes close as my fingers move through his hair again, slower this time. “That feels so good,” he murmurs.

We sit in silence—his eyes closed and mine on him. Two people who claim they don’t have time for anything or anyone else and yet here we are trying to make some.

And maybe that should scare me more than it does.

Because somewhere in the past week this stopped feeling less like a distraction and started feeling dangerously close to something I might actually want.

What does that mean? Why does it feel so important to acknowledge it? And why am I trying to find ways to justify it to my boss so it doesn’t have to end?

You’re not supposed to develop feelings for someone in this short of time. It’s supposed to be all lust, all physical—so why does sitting here like this, talking like this, feel just as intimate?

“You kept my shirt,” he murmurs.

“I did,” I say looking down at it. “Figured it was a solid investment.”