Page 18 of In Your Wake

I give her a big hug. “I’ll make it work, Robyn. Promise.”

She wanders off and I slip my shoes on, but someone walks up behind me. The thud-like steps tell me it’s not Robyn or Bill.

“We need to talk,” Mitch says, his gravelly voice filling the tiny foyer like a loud drum.

“No, we don’t.”

“Yes. Now.” He steps closer, and the heat emanates from him in waves. “Exactly how bad is it?”

“Which part?” I ask, not bothering to face him.

“The inn.”

“Not so bad that you need to worry your pretty little head about it.” I step toward the door, but he circles me and blocks it.

“The fuck it isn’t.”

The intensity of his gaze almost knocks me down. This isn’t annoyance or bitterness; this is something deeper. He really does still hate my guts.

“Are you seriously going to pretend you suddenly give a shit?” With a laugh, I try to move around him, but he grabs my wrist, tugging me back. His fiery touch sparks my blood.

“Dammit, Maxine. Would you stop brushing me off? This is happening, whether or not we like it. It’s what they want,” he says, nodding over his shoulder, releasing my hand.

I avoid his eyes, rummage through my purse for my keys and ignore the way my skin tingles where he held my wrist. “Since when do you care what your parents want?”

“I’ve always cared. Just because I didn’t listen or wasn’t around—”

“Exactly, you weren’t around,” I interrupt, dumping the contents of my bag on the ground and kneeling to search through the pile of crap—candies, receipts, random… crap. But still, no keys.

“I mean it.” He crouches beside me to help. “With everything that’s happening…” He releases a sad exhale. “Things need to change.”

He’s so close, I see the way his eyes blend from green to black toward the middle. I used to love staring into his eyes; I found them so calming, but now they only fill me with pain.

“That’s where you’re wrong, Mitch. Nothing needs to change. Stop acting like you’re suddenly this great guy and admit why you’re here.”

“And why’s that?”

“The league doesn’t want you anymore. You’re just looking for something to keep you busy.” I lean closer, dropping my voice to a whisper, noticing how his focus falls to my lips. “The inn matters more to me than it will ever matter to you. I’m the one who’s been there, day in, day out. So, there’s no way in hell I’m leaving it up to you.” I shove everything back into my bag, ripping a tampon from his hand, then stand. “You can forget it. I’ll never welcome you. You’ll never be a part of this. Do you hear me? Never.”

With an annoyed grunt, he shoves himself up, and I notice him wince as he does. “Why have you been here ‘day in, day out’?” he asks. “Weren’t you supposed to leave town once you graduated?”

I chuckle dryly. “That’s what you picked up from everything I said?” I shake my head, hurrying out.

“No, I heard it all,” Mitchell says, following close behind. “I just don’t think you understand that this has nothing to do with what you want. None of it is about us. This is about Bill.”

Striking me like a physical blow, my shoulders sink as I reach my car. “Bill will pull out of this. He’s stronger than everyone believes.”

Anger mars Mitch’s face. “Since when have you been his biggest fan? Did you forget what he did to our families?” He hangs his head, shaking it, and clenches his fists at his sides. A few seconds later, he looks up, his expression softened. “He’s not pulling out of this. Deep down, you know that.”

Wrapping my arms around my chest, I fight the urge to collapse into his embrace and enjoy the comfort of his body against mine. To sink into the reality that he’s back, and that he still cares a little. But then I remind myself that he doesn’t care, not really, and I can’t let myself forget that.

“You may have given up, but I won’t be the one giving up on him,” I admit. I shrug and my mouth quirks. “Guess I have a thing for the underdogs.”

Mitchell blinks a few times as his confidence slips, and I almost smile, realizing I can still read his mind. He knows exactly what I mean.

He reaches an arm out, trying to pull me into his embrace, but I snap my hands up, pushing against his broad, oh so hard, chest. I may have craved his comfort a second ago, but now my body reacts with resistance. Even when I try to shove him away, all I do is push myself out of reach of his grasp.

“No, Mitch. Don’t do that. You and I are no longer friends. You can’t just come back and act as if we are.”