Page 62 of Interference

“Yep. I still don’t know why I stuck it out for so long.” He wrinkled his nose. “God knows the sex wasn’t worth it.”

I burst out laughing. From the wicked chuckle and the little sparkle in his eye, that was what he was going for, and I appreciated it.

“So it was one of those relationships where it ended, and I wondered why I wasted so much time and energy trying to keep it going.” He nodded toward me. “Maybe that’s what’s happening here?”

“I… yeah, maybe? I mean, we had a good thing for a long time. The first couple of years were great. But once it started going downhill…” I stared at the table between us as the last year ran through my mind. “Being with him stopped being fun. Like, I know it’s not supposed to be all sunshine and roses all the time, but it should at least be…”

“Not miserable?”

“Exactly. I kept telling myself it was a rough patch and we’d get through it, but…” I shook my head. “Even during a rough patch, we should still like each other, you know? And… I don’t think we did.”

That was a gut punch once I’d said it out loud. I loved Simon. I didn’t see any reality where I didn’t love him to some degree. But somewhere along the line, we’d stopped liking each other. If we weren’t fighting, we were either ignoring or annoying each other. I didn’t have a single fond memory of the two of us from the past year or so. The last six months, every interaction was stained with frustration and resentment.

I exhaled and met Wyatt’s gaze again. “I can’t say I’m glad the relationship failed. I really thought we were in it for the long haul.” I swallowed. “But now that it’s over, I’m definitely relieved.”

Wyatt’s smile was gentle and sympathetic. “It’s tough. Sometimes it just doesn’t work, you know? And I mean, you guys are teammates. Maybe this is the best thing for your relationship in the long run.”

I tilted my head. “What do you mean?”

“Well, my oldest brother and his ex-wife tried to stick it out for their kids even though they were miserable. They couldn’t stand each other for the last two years they were married. Once they got divorced, though, and they started co-parenting, they realized they were fine that way. They get along great now.”

“So they made better exes than spouses.”

“In their case, I think they made great spouses, and they made great parents, but they were terrible as married parents. Like, they were fine when it was just the two of them. They were fine after the divorce. But they couldn’t make both marriage and parenting work.”

I considered it. “Huh. Maybe that’s the thing with me and Simon. Boyfriends, fine. Teammates, fine. But not both.”

“Could be,” he said. “It might take some time, but you never know.”

I’d always thought I’d be crushed, going from Simon’s boyfriend to just his teammate. Today… Well, maybe Wyatt was right.

And I realized that, quite frankly, I’d rather be happy as Simon’s teammate than miserable as his boyfriend.

Maybe now, we could actually pull that off.

Chapter 16

Wyatt

I really, really hoped the drive to Thanksgiving didn’t set the tone for the whole day.

It was about twenty-five minutes from Anthony’s front door to their teammate’s house in Bothell. Anthony drove. Simon stewed in the passenger seat. I rode in the back with Lily.

No one spoke. No one.

And when I say it was twenty-five of the longest, quietest, and least comfortable minutes of my life, that was taking into consideration flights in and out of warzones. That cold, unnerving descent into Kandahar with my fellow soldiers in the belly of a C-17 had nothing on the tense ride through affluent suburbia with these recent exes. Instead of the deafening roar of engine noise drowning out any attempts at conversation, it was the soft hum of a luxury vehicle and a silence that made my ears ring harder than my occasional tinnitus.

Beside me, Lily shifted. She pushed her head under my hand, and I petted her, quietly murmuring that everything was okay. No surprise she’d picked up on my agitation; though none of my triggers were related to exes stuck together in a confined space, the palpable tension wasn’t good for my anxiety.

I studied Anthony, whose gaze was fixed on the road. He wasn’t white-knuckling the steering wheel, so that was a plus. My gut told me that if Simon had been driving, he’d have been channeling his frustration into speeding, slamming on the brakes, and whipping around corners. Been there, dated that.

No wonder Anthony was relieved they were over.

That was none of my business, though, and I’d have to be in the same space as Simon today, so I just kept my mouth shut, petted my dog, and gazed out the window.

Mercifully, the ride wasn’t actually as long as that flight into Kandahar, and I almost muttered, “Oh, thank fuck,” when Anthony pulled into a long driveway lined with other luxury cars. I didn’t think I’d ever been more relieved to get out of a vehicle that hadn’t taken enemy fire.

Anthony and Simon had apparently agreed to bring soda, and they’d loaded up the back of the Land Rover with about a dozen cases.

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