Page 56 of Master Debater

“But here I am, weeks after the ink is dry on my divorce, lapsing into the same pattern I did with my ex, where I put aside my hopes and dreams to tend to his.”

“Really? That’s a low blow, comparing me to your douchebag ex.”

“Unfortunately, it’s the only scale I have, and while you fall so short on the asshole portion of the scale when I compare the two of you, on this point, where you believe your careers are more important, you’re neck and neck. You just hide it better. But admit it. You feel like your job is superior.”

He opened his mouth and closed it. Opened it again. “I didn’t say that.”

“But you’re not refuting it. I might not be keeping people out of jail or raking in the dough, but it doesn’t make my work insignificant. I thought that you’d understand, as you escape with the help of ivory keys. Honestly, I thought a lot of things that seem pretty silly now. You kept telling me that I’d never win when it came to you, and I should’ve listened. You’ll always have a comeback, and be able to debate and justify your way into being right, and so now you don’t have to. You win.”

“Willa, wait. This isn’t about winning or losing.”

“Isn’t it, though?”

“It’s not,” he insisted, and I lifted my watery gaze to his, entreating him to say something that proved this wasn’t a power struggle I was destined to lose. Even an ounce of understanding or a hint of an apology, and I’d never be able to pull myself away from the man dangerously close to becoming my center of gravity.

“If you think there was an ounce of sincerity in anything my uncle said, you’re being naïve.”

His features blurred as tears overtook my eyes. There was no mention of my dreams or my music. No confession of feeling deeper for me. Only the insistence that he was right about his uncles. It managed to convince me I’d been wrong, but not about his uncle. Nope, it was about the faith he had in me, and that this would ever work.

I sniffed, my heart shattering into tiny little pieces. They rained down inside me with a tinkling noise at odds with the pain, infusing me with another truth I’d done my best to avoid stumbling across until too late.

I was in love with Nathan Fox. Head over heels for the cocky man next door, and yet, it wasn’t enough. It didn’t matter.

“Oh, I’m all over my naivety.” I sniffed, almost wishing I wasn’t so savvy or experienced in this area so I could go back to pretending. To blindly hoping. “And that’s the problem. You see that comparison I made. It wasn’t so much between you and Eric, or you and anyone else. It’s about me, and what happens when I give myself over to someone I care about.”

God, it hurt, those shards of my heart slipping into my bloodstream to slice deeper, leaving me bleeding and raw. At least my ex was wrong too, and I wished it provided more vindication. “Part of me wishes the spark wasn’t still there. That I didn’t know, without a doubt, that it’ll always be there whenever I think of you.”

His eyebrows drew together, his confusion showing through his handsome features, and I swiped at the tears streaming down my cheeks.

“But I have too much self-respect to allow myself to become a convenience, and more, I refuse to let my dreams come in second place ever again.”

Chapter 31

Nate

“So, do you live here now too, or what?”

At the glare I shot Rylee, who’d moved back in with Mom as she reevaluated which direction to take her life next, she…continued to do exactly what she’d been doing before. She pulled a can out of the fridge, strolled over, and sat on the stool next to me, where I had my laptop out on the counter.

The hiss of her soda filled the air as she popped the top. “You look like the pictures they show during my alcohol and drug awareness course, when they discuss the dangerous effects on your body and health. Scruff is in, but bedraggled chic is not a thing.”

When she tugged on my overgrown whiskers, I smacked her hand away. “I’m not taking fashion advice from you, of all people.”

“Right back at you, big brother.” After taking a glug from the can I’d originally thought was Coke but turned out to be strawberry sparkling water, she plunked her elbow on the counter and her fist on her chin. And just studied me way too closely, as though I were a painting in a museum and not a human being.

Since she had no trouble invading my personal space, I invaded hers in return, snatching away her can and taking a swig. I stuck out my tongue, gagging at the fizzy liquid that tasted more like a reminder of a drink instead of an actual drink. “Gross. That tastes like strawberry juice that’s passed through a fairy’s ass.”

Rylee snorted a laugh and reclaimed the can. “It’s obviously too high class for you.”

“Says the felon.”

“Ah!” She slugged me in the shoulder. “I might’ve pled guilty on the advice of my lawyer, but my record is going to stay clean.”

“Your lawyer will appreciate that, considering you think he works pro bono.” I gave her a playful shove, and suddenly we were kids again, smacking and reciprocating, seeing how much we could get away with before Mom caught us.

We both burst into laughter as the legs of our stools scraped the floor, and it was the first time I’d felt anything but misery for a solid week.

Naturally calling attention to that fact plunged me back into the wretched lonely depths again. When was this awful ache in my chest going to go away? I didn’t have time for it; didn’t have time to be anything less than at the top of my game.

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