Page 186 of The Dixon Rule

“I miss you.”

My mouth snaps shut.

What?

Lynsey gives a self-deprecating smile. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to hit you with that right out of the gate, but that’s the gist of it. I miss you.”

I’m not sure what to say, but I’m given a reprieve because the waitress arrives. I order a pint of IPA. Lynsey gets a tea. She’s not much of a drinker.

Once the server’s gone, I rub my cheek, then the side of my neck, before my jittery arm drops to my lap. “I don’t know what to do with that,” I admit.

“You could say you miss me too.”

“I have said that,” I remind her. Resentment floats through me. “I told you I missed you almost every time we talked. And you haven’t said it back until now.”

“I know.”

“Which is sort of convenient, isn’t it?” That pang of bitterness grows into a tight knot in my throat. “Up until a few weeks ago, you had a new boyfriend.”

“It wasn’t serious with Tyreek.”

“It doesn’t matter if it was serious. You were with somebody else. And I’m pretty sure if you hadn’t been dating him, you wouldn’t have even considered transferring to Briar.”

Disbelief fills her eyes. “You think I transferred schools because of a guy? You know me better than that, Lindy. My future is far too important for me to act on whims.”

Something about her indignant response rubs me the wrong way. It’s one word. One word is the problem. Her future. Our entire relationship was about her future, her ballet schedule, her friends. Our lives revolved around what she wanted to do and where she wanted to go.

The realization smacks me in the face like a rogue hockey puck.

“I was an accessory,” I say.

“What are you talking about?”

“In our relationship. I was an accessory. I did everything for you, and it’s really fucking pathetic when I think about it. Every dance event that I could make it to, I was there. Front row center. And in four years, I can count on one hand the number of hockey games you attended.”

“That’s not true,” she protests.

“Three,” I tell her flatly. “Four if you count tonight. But I don’t count tonight because I’m still not sure what tonight is. I have a very good idea, though.”

“What do you mean?”

“You don’t like seeing someone else playing with your toys.”

A frown twists her lips.

“Yeah, that’s exactly what this is.” I shrug. “You’re jealous that I’m with Diana.”

“Oh, come on. I’m in no way threatened by some airhead cheerleader—”

“Don’t disparage her. I won’t have it.”

She instantly backpedals. “That came out wrong. All I mean is, you’re ambitious too. You also have a plan for your future. A solid one.”

“So?”

“So how does this girl fit into it? That night at your apartment, every time I asked her a serious question—what she wants to do after graduation, what her goals are—she would shrug and say I don’t know or we’ll see. I know you, Shane. You can’t be with someone who wings it through life.”

“I can be with whoever I want. And just so you know, she’s not without ambition. Anything that woman puts her mind to, she succeeds at.”

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