Page 62 of Hard Pass

The word echoes in the empty room but it doesn’t give me an answer.

I’m not sure if anything can.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

Dublin

I don’t see him at first.

I’m too busy digging my keys out of my purse, mentally running through everything Manny sent over, and replaying the interception in my head like if I look at it from enough angles something new will reveal itself.

It hasn’t.

It only makes my suspicions worse.

I slam my car door, turn, and startle.

What the—

Cole’s a few feet away from me, leaning against a white SUV like he’s been there long enough to lose patience.

My pulse kicks hard and immediate. How did he know I was going to be here?

“Cole?” I swallow. “What are you doing here?”

His Adam’s apple bobs as his eyes hold mine. There’s an apology in them, but there’s also another emotion I can’t read yet.

“You’re a member,” he says, pushing off the SUV, hands shoved in his pockets. “When your purse fell and I helped you gather it up. Gym tag on the keyring. Schedule folded in half with this class time circled every day. It’s not like I was spying . . . it was just there when I picked it up.” He takes a step closer, holding his hands up. “I didn’t mean to scare you. I—uh, didn’t realize how stalkerish this might seem.”

“Just a tad,” I say raising my eyebrows.

“I just really needed to see—talk to you.” He clears his throat.

“And it couldn’t wait until business hours?”

“Like you ever work just business hours.”

He has a point there.

I glance around the parking lot. “You really shouldn’t be here,” I say. “We can’t be seen together.”

“Hence the hat.” He tugs the brim of his hat lower. “And why can’t we be seen together? You’re investigating me, right? So naturally you’ll be talking to me.”

“At the Rebels complex, the stadium, the practice field, maybe. But not in a strip mall parking lot outside of a Pilates studio.”

He nods, his eyes moving to the asphalt and then back up. “I left the stadium after the game and have been driving ever since.” He sounds frayed. Broken.

“And?” I don’t know what else to do with that statement.

“I don’t know,” he says quietly and shrugs. “I’ve got a world full of people I could’ve gone to, and I’m standing here waiting for you.”

Where’d that lump in my throat come from?

“Waiting or stalking?” I joke to try and add some levity to the conversation.

But Cole only offers a ghost of a smile, eyes like a hurt puppy dog. “I just . . .”

And for the first time since this whole thing started, I see it. Not the star quarterback. Not the ego.