Page 52 of Golden Ruin

“Fuck.”

That single word marks his frustration toward the circus outside the truck as he starts the engine. We pull off slowly, being mindful not to steamroll the media vultures, but I know he’d probably like to.

More flashes, more questions, more prying eyes.

“I don’t know how you deal with it. This shit’s worse than Pandora,” I say with an easy breath. It’s the first I’ve taken since leaving the doctor’s office, and it’s because the paparazzi are finally behind us.

“Sorry,” he sighs. “They’re not usually this aggressive. I mean, they always lurk, but they’re getting bold. Everyone wants to be the first to figure out what this is.”

He leaves it at that, but I know he actually means everyone wants to be the first to figure out what we are.

I hate that this is all because he opened his home to me, chose to look after me and our son when our world flipped upside down.

“Want lunch?”

I smile and arch a brow at him. “After all that, you honestly think we should be seen having lunch together?”

He shrugs like it isn’t a big deal to him. “I know a spot that’s pretty lowkey. You down?”

I stare at him as he drives, and I feel the ghost of his arm around my waist, the heat of his body against my shoulder as he shielded me from the media a moment ago. He’s been so protective lately, and I guess it’s just taken me by surprise that this side of him has extended beyond our son.

To me.

His bright-green eyes glint in the sun, reminding me that I’m wearing his sunglasses. I slip them off my face, and he holds completely still as I ease them onto his.

“Thanks,” he says, and I nod. “So, lunch. We going?”

I consider it, knowing what my answer should be, but those words don’t leave my mouth. Instead, I do the exact opposite, which means more than I’m willing to admit.

“You know what? Fuck it. Let’s go.”

“Fuck yeah,” he grins, one corner of his mouth curving upward.

I force my eyes away from him. There are too many rogue thoughts and feelings running through me today not to. I didn’t realize I’d have to be so careful around him, but as it turns out, there’s this emotional memory thing happening inside me, and it’s completely unexpected.

So many years have passed since we were a couple. Honestly, I thought time had killed off the last of whatever existed inside me for him, but I’d be lying if I didn’t admit that shit’s getting weird.

Okay, yes, Sterling’s… attractive.

I glance at him in my peripheral vision and correct myself. He’s actually more than attractive. My eyes linger on his arms, the way his t-shirt clings to his carefully sculpted biceps. Then, my gaze lowers to his chest, and I hate that I know what he feels like. Every inch of his body against mine, pressed to the side of my face, in my hands, between my…

Nope.

Stop it.

This isn’t healthy.

I take a breath and look out the window as I consider telling him I’ve changed my mind about our lunch plans. There’s this weird feeling sitting right in the middle of my chest, making an already complicated situation even more complicated. And he isn’t making it any easier. I swear, every time I turn around, he’s there. Doing something else thoughtful, taking care of me in some new way that isn’t his responsibility.

But this is on me too because, despite knowing better… I keep letting him.

*

Honestly? I thought we’d end up at some overly-fancy, overpriced spot I’d hate, but he knows me well. Hence the reason we’re currently seated in the windowless storage room of Dusty’s Diner, scarfing down burgers and fries at a card table with a single lightbulb glowing overhead.

Two soft knocks hit the door, then Dusty pops his head in, smirking as he takes in our setup.

“You know, I’d happily close down the diner and shut the blinds if you two would agree to come out of here.”