Total pages in book: 141
Estimated words: 136559 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 683(@200wpm)___ 546(@250wpm)___ 455(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 136559 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 683(@200wpm)___ 546(@250wpm)___ 455(@300wpm)
“Yes. Please.”
I pause, glancing at the gorgeous, thoughtful hockey player as the sound of rainfall fills the room. I definitely feel like I don’t want this night to end.
Fine, fine. There’s more to unpack than I’d thought. But Miles is helpful with my digital photo frame, my laptop and monitor, and the few books I have, though I’m more of an e-reader gal. As he plugs in the digital frame, he tips his head toward the bedroom door. “So, those two seem…really into communication. But almost too much?”
I laugh while hanging up clothes. “Right? Sometimes I think they’re onto something, but most of the time they just remind me that relationships are really complicated.”
“Tell me about it,” he says, as he connects the frame to the router.
Well, I can’t resist that. I probably shouldn’t poke around in his relationship history, but I’m admittedly curious. He’s never shared much online and I maybe, possibly, checked out his socials. “Okay, tell me about it,” I say, nerves jumping through me. But I’m too curious. I want to know who captivated him at some point.
He stops his work on the frame, gives me a thoughtful look. “You want to know?”
“I do.”
He takes off his glasses, pinches the bridge of his nose, then says, “I was involved with someone for a long time in Vancouver.”
My stomach dips unpleasantly, but I say nothing. I simply wait.
“We were pretty serious. Lived together and all. But after my ACL tear, I was in a bad place. I wasn’t able to focus on anything but myself. First, I kind of wallowed and that took up all my headspace, then I tried to heal. I wasn’t…nice to be around. And so…she left.”
I stop hanging, swallowing roughly. “Just left? It was too much for her?”
“Yeah,” he says, heavily. Then, he slides his glasses back on. “I guess I understand in retrospect. I was…deeply unhappy.”
My heart squeezes with pain for him. I step away from the closet and move to the edge of the bed, closer to him. “I’m sorry. That sounds awful all around.”
“It was,” he says, then shrugs. “But breakups are, right?”
There’s resignation in his voice, like he’s accepted the way things ended, and the way he felt. But there’s real hurt there too. That has to be a factor as well in why it’s best if we stay the friendship course. “They are,” I say with a heavy sigh too, then add, “are you happier now?”
He nods instantly. “I am. Saw a team psychologist. Turned my career around. Got my head on straight. I’m good. I’ve always prided myself on moving forward. On picking up the pieces, you know?”
“I do.”
“So that’s what I did.” He tips his chin my way. “Your turn. You tell me about it.”
I wince, not sure I want to get into the romance details. I wave a dismissive hand. “Oh, I just had a couple college boyfriends. One wasn’t even a boyfriend.”
“The one I’m lightly murdering?”
I laugh at the memory. “Yes, that one.”
He makes a “spill it” motion with his hand, his fingers curling toward himself. “Tell me about his crime.”
I roll my eyes to make light of it, but that’s just self-protection. I swallow my pride and bite off the truth. “This one guy said my hearing loss was an embarrassment.”
Miles’s face turns white. Wait. No, it’s more like white-hot anger I see etched into the set of his jaw. “I will find him and kill him.”
“He’s not worth it,” I say.
“No, but you are,” he says easily, locking eyes with me like he would march into battle and slay the dragons of exes if that’s what I asked.
My stomach swoops. “Thank you.”
He rises, comes around the bed, and sits next to me. “He didn’t deserve you or appreciate you. You know that, right?”
The thing is—I do. That’s why it was easy to tell Nick thanks for the wine and to walk out in the middle of our third date. “Yes. Want to know what I said to him when he told me that?”
“I do,” Miles says, eagerly.
“I said, then it won’t embarrass you when I walk out and leave you with the bill.”
Miles’s smile spreads nice and easy, his dark eyes full of pride and appreciation for my payback. “You’re a fucking goddess,” he says.
I preen a little. “I am.”
The bottle of wine is nearly empty, and the pizza box is heading that way too with Miles reaching for the last slice from his chair a little later.
“Best pizza ever,” he declares.
“Because of the artichoke hearts or the company?” I ask.
He pauses, tilting his head like he’s genuinely considering it. “Hmm. Tough call.”
I grab a small pink pillow from the futon, holding it up like I’m about to throw it.
“Try me,” he says, leaning back, all confidence. “I have excellent reflexes.”
“So cocky,” I tease, then take him up on his offer, lobbing the pillow.