Page 163 of The Dixon Rule

My frown deepens. “What do you mean?”

“Just some things your dad said. He told me that you laugh a lot when you’re around me. That you act differently. He didn’t specifically mention Lynsey, but it was implied that maybe you weren’t yourself when you were with her.”

I object to that. “Lynsey and I had great times together.”

“I’m not saying you didn’t. But I do wonder if you were ever truly yourself with her. Did you fully open up? Show her every part of you?”

“Oh my God, Diana,” Blake interrupts. “Come see this.”

“Sorry. I’ll be right back.” Diana squeezes my arm and walks over to peer at the phone Blake is holding out to her.

Her words leave me with a bad taste in my mouth and a jumble of thoughts in my brain.

Was I ever truly open with Lynsey?

The thing is…yes. I was open. I was vulnerable with her, sharing intimate parts of my psyche. I confessed to certain kinks—she didn’t want to indulge me. I invited her to everything—she didn’t want to come. And then, when she did come, she made it clear she wasn’t having a great time.

Fuck. It bothers me that my dad thinks I acted differently around Lynsey. Like I was some chump who let a girl walk all over him.

But I never viewed our relationship like that. Yes, it had its issues, and maybe in hindsight, I did make the bulk of the compromises, but—

“Shane, come look at this.”

I push the troubling thoughts aside and join the girls. Blake shows me a picture from Gigi and Ryder’s wedding of a dark-haired man trying to do the splits on the dance floor.

“This is my dad’s old teammate from Briar. Mike Hollis.” Blake can’t stop giggling. “This is right before he tore his pants and then his wife started yelling at him and made him go home.”

I laugh. Oh yeah. I remember that dude. He and his wife were tearing up the dance floor all night. Blake scrolls through the rest of the pictures in the sequence, which show a petite woman with brown skin and dark hair reprimanding the man with the ripped trousers.

“These are hilarious,” I say, before realizing something. “You know what, I haven’t actually seen any pictures from the wedding, other the ones I took.”

“Oh, I have a whole folder on my phone,” Diana tells me.

“You do? Where’s your phone?”

“It’s on top of our golf bag.”

“Nice. I’ll grab it.” I’m about to go when Blake suddenly gasps.

“Oh my fucking God.”

“What is it?” Diana asks.

“Isaac just messaged me.”

Now Diana gasps. “Isaac Grant?”

I raise an eyebrow in amusement. “Mr. Superstar Wide Receiver? Check you out, Logan. Attracting the big guns.”

“How did he get your number?” Diana looks like she’s trying not to laugh.

With deep resignation, Blake reads out loud. “‘Hey, it’s Isaac. Don’t ask how I got your number. It took me forever and I had to go through some pretty dark channels.’”

I snort.

“Then he sent a follow-up. This one says, ‘Let’s not beat around the bush. I want to see you again.’”

“Wow.” I’m legit impressed. “Good for him.”

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