Page 87 of Hard Pass

His smile is soft in response. “Not sure what you want me to say,” he says. “Pretty sure whatever I do say isn’t going to be right.”

“Try anything.” I’m irritated but not with him. “Because right now it feels like I’m the only one in this room who understands the gravity of what happened.”

He tilts his head, muscle pulsing in his jaw. “That so?”

“Yes.” I step closer before I can stop myself and then immediately jump back when his erection bumps my stomach. Eyes wide, cheeks heating and body aching for more, I focus on the only thing that will keep this want at bay—anger.

He fights a smirk and fails miserably. “We’re you saying something?”

“Stop it.”

“Stop what?” He blinks innocently.

“I’m serious.”

“So am I. What are we needing to be serious about?”

I exhale harshly. “I’m the one who just risked everything for . . .” I gesture between us. “For this.”

He exhales slowly through his nose, like he’s trying not to laugh. “Funny.” A lift of his eyebrows. “Could’ve sworn there were two of us here.”

“That’s not the point.”

“Then what is?”

“The point is,” I say, forcing the words through the tension tightening in my chest. It’s like my body’s warring between having a full-blown panic attack and wanting to push him back and repeat last night. Neither is welcome. I take a deep breath to settle myself. “This can’t happen again.”

“Okay.”

“Okay?” I repeat. “Can you have any other response besides that?”

“What do you want me to say?” he asks. “You’ve got a whole list of reasons why this shouldn’t have happened. I’ve yet to argue with any of them.”

“That doesn’t mean you weren’t complicit.” Frustration vibrates through my voice. “That doesn’t mean if someone found out they wouldn’t think you were sleeping with me to affect the outcome. That my findings aren’t compromised for agreeing to it. Or do those things not matter to you?”

“You’re putting words in my mouth.”

“Then stop acting like this is nothing.”

“I never said it was nothing,” he replies, quieter now.

I shake my head, pacing, needing space from him and the way he keeps cutting through me without raising his voice.

I don’t even know what I’m trying to justify anymore and the more I do, the more I sound like I’m spiraling.

That’s because you are, Dublin.

Make some sense. Articulate. Be you.

But I’ve never slept with someone I’m investigating. And to be fair, that isn’t his fault or his problem. It’s mine.

But it’s so much easier to project my concerns on him to ease the panic rioting through me.

That makes it a hard, frustrating point when he doesn’t seem to think there is a problem.

“I don’t do this, Cole.”

“I’m going to need more than that.”