Page 49 of One Pucking Wish

“Why don’t most guys stick around?”

“Because I don’t want them to.”

He nods as if that’s all the explanation he needs. “I’ve never made it to the get-to-know-you dates in a relationship.”

My brows raise. “Really?”

“Really.”

“And why is that?”

“Because I don’t date.”

“But you want to date me?”

“Yeah.”

The one word makes my heart twist. “You’re thirty-three. Why haven’t you had a serious relationship before now?”

He sets his take-out container down and releases a long sigh. I can see him weighing his options. To share or not to share. This is a make-or-break moment in this potential relationship. “Until recently, I’ve never been in the presence of a healthy relationship. I grew up surrounded by toxic ones, and I’ve never wanted that in my life.”

“Your parents?”

He shakes his head. Looking down, he’s quiet for a minute, clearly deciding how much to share with me. I can tell he’s never gotten to this part of a relationship before. He clears his throat and raises his gaze to meet mine. “I never knew my dad. It was always only ever my mom and the piece of trash she was dating at the moment.”

“And I’m guessing there was a lot of trash?”

He nods slowly, a frown on his face. “Tons.”

“I didn’t know my dad either, and my mom was the town drunk. I basically raised myself so there wouldn’t be any red flags that would cause concern and get me taken away from her.” It’s not like me to be this open, but I feel surprisingly comfortable with Gunner. Not to mention, I’m the one who initiated this whole get-to-know-each-other conversation. If I want him to be open and honest, I have to do the same.

“That’s why you are the way you are,” he states.

“Meaning?”

“You present this badass version of yourself, prim and proper, and always in control with your boring pantsuits and pulled-back twist without a hair out of place. You need to control the narrative the way you did growing up.”

“I suppose so.”

“It must be extremely frustrating trying to control us heathens.” A small smile finds his lips.

I force out a dry chuckle. “You have no idea.”

“So… your mom now? Is she better?” His voice holds a sweet tone of concern.

I shrug. “She’s six feet under, so… I don’t know if that’s better than living the way she was or not.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Yeah, well… one can’t chug vodka like water for thirty years and think they’ll live a long life.”

“So that’s why I never see you drink.”

“Partly. I don’t have anything against casual drinking. I know that’s the way of the world. But they say alcoholism is hereditary, and I’ve never wanted to push my luck. Plus, the thought of being out of control is something I can’t fathom. Not to mention, you only see me at work functions, and I’d never drink on the job anyway. But no, I’m not a big drinker.”

“Yeah, me either,” he says.

I quirk my brow with a scoff. “Yeah, right. You always have a beer in your hand at the bars after a game.”

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