Page 178 of Hard Pass

“I think I’ve loved you longer than I even realized. I just . . .” She laughs shakily. “I don’t know how to trust my comprehension of good things when . . . well, when other parts of my life are shit.”

I move closer without thinking.

“You looked at me tonight like I’d rejected you. I promise you, that wasn’t it, Cole. I was overwhelmed because someone like you looked at me in the middle of the worst period of my life and said you loved me anyway.” Her smile is watery. “And I got scared. Because what if this ends? What if all of this goes away and we wake up one day and realize this only worked because chaos shoved us together?”

I shake my head immediately. “No.”

“But what if—”

“No,” I repeat, firmer this time as I close the distance between us completely. “You want to know what I think?”

“What?” It’s barely a whisper.

“I think if we can survive this version of us—the media and the investigations and your career hanging on by a thread and my life being dissected every day”—I brush my fingers lightly on her jawline—“then normal doesn’t stand a chance against us.”

Her shoulders hitch.

“This is us figuring out what we look like when things are hard,” I say. “And I want to see what they look like when they’re not.”

“I want to too,” she says, head nodding and happy tears welling.

“And I think,” I say, “if you’re willing to turn my living room into a discount tropical resort because you were worried my feelings were hurt . . . then I’d be an idiot to bet against us.”

Her eyes light up. “I love you,” she says again.

I cup the back of her neck. “You know what my favorite part of all this is? You thought I wanted Bali when all I wanted this whole time was you.” A tear slips down her cheek, and I brush it away with my thumb. “I don’t care where we are. I don’t care if it’s this house or some beach halfway across the world. If you’re there, Dublin. That’s the only place I want to be.”

“Cole.” My name is a sigh. An oath. The best goddam sound coming from her lips. “I wasn’t scared of the word relationship. I was scared of how much I wanted it with you.”

CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT

Dublin

“Honestly, Dublin? I don’t have anything else.”

I pinch the bridge of my nose and pace the length of Cole’s kitchen like if I move enough, I’ll be able to find the answer hiding somewhere between the cabinets and the island.

“There has to be something, Manny.”

But if there was, we would have already found it. We’re a team. We work well together . . . but only if the data lets us.

“I know. Believe me, I know.” His exhale is slow and patient and frustrated. “But the last two games have given us nothing new. No large bets. No unusual spikes. No patterns. Nothing where someone might make a mistake that we can find and trace. It just stopped.”

“Patterns don’t just stop.”

“They do if whoever’s behind them gets spooked.” He pauses. “Or if they’re not there to begin with.”

I close my eyes and swear. “Goddamn technology is getting so good people can just hide behind it and never be found out.”

“I can only pull from what exists,” he says apologetically. “And right now? There’s nothing else to pull from.”

Fuck. It’s not his fault. It’s just so . . . frustrating.

“There’s something else . . .”

“What?” I laugh the word out and shake my head. Manny knows me well enough to know my frustration isn’t directed at him.

“The new team Marcus has investigating. They’re leaning toward labeling their findings and investigation as inconclusive.”