Page 91 of Hard Pass

“That’s not an option.”

“Which part of it?”

All of it. But the words never make it to my lips, because that option isn’t feasible. I hang my head for a beat and shake it. “I’ve worked really hard for my job and my reputation.”

“I know.” Willa’s voice softens. “But Dub, when’s the last time you let yourself work this hard for anything outside of your career?” She reaches out and squeezes my hand. “When’s the last time you dated someone longer than a few weeks or let a man matter enough to disrupt your routine?”

“That’s not fair.”

“No?” she asks gently. “Because from where I’m sitting, you built yourself a very controlled life. A good one. Successful and safe. I know you’re not the white picket fence type of girl, but it’s okay to admit all this structure has also contributed to you being a little lonely.”

I draw in a deep breath and know I don’t have an argument for that.

There was a time I thought I’d have more than this. More than takeout at my desk at nine o’clock at night. More than airport lounges and hotel bars and work becoming the thing that filled every empty space because it was easier than admitting there wasn’t much waiting for me outside of it.

Relationships were distractions. Messy and temporary.

It’s not that I gave up on wanting one completely, but it also means I’ve lived the past few years not focusing on it. You can’t miss something if you don’t have it or care about it.

And I hate that one freaking night with Cole has me even thinking these ludicrous thoughts. Like . . . we hooked up. He didn’t regret it. Why is my head suddenly filled with this nonsense?

“You want to know the worst part?” I ask quietly. “Last night made me realize how much I miss feeling something, if that makes sense.”

“It makes total sense. I guess the question is if anyone could have made you feel that way or if it was Cole in particular. He’s the one who made you feel that way. The kiss to end all kisses,” she says quietly. Knowingly. Sympathetically. “It’s almost like it was inevitable.”

My head whips up. Now. Later. Does it matter when it’s inevitable? Her words match his. I swallow over the distaste in my mouth. “Pretty pathetic when you say it like that.”

“Not at all.”

“Nowhere in your scenarios did you say he stays,” I say.

She looks at me, hands cupping her mug, teeth sunk into her bottom lip. “I didn’t not say it, but this is a zero-sum game for you when for him it’s . . . I don’t know what it is.”

I shake my head and chuckle disbelievingly. I left Cole’s house because of all the reasons she’s stating, and now I almost want to argue with her over the same things.

“What if I don’t do either of the things you suggested?”

“Then you’re playing a dangerous game.”

I stare at the floor, at my shoes that are still wet—evidence of a night I can’t undo.

“You sure know how to rain on my parade,” I mutter.

“Pretty sure you already did that yourself. I didn’t mean to, Dub. I just . . . I know how hard you worked to get where you are. I also know you deserve someone who makes you come home like this.” She gestures at me. “Happy. Wrecked. Glowing and completely screwed. I want all of those things for you.”

“Yeah.” My voice breaks. “Me too.”

“How did you leave it?” she asks quietly.

I let out a breath. “Open-ended?”

“Is that a question or a stated fact?”

I shrug. “More like an I told him it can’t happen again.”

“And?”

“And he didn’t believe me.” I swallow. “He told me he didn’t have any regrets.”