Page 5 of Forgive You

“Where are you going?”

“To demand a new consultant.” One who doesn’t torture me by existing.

“Damn, Jason. That bad, huh?” He whistles as the doors close. “What did the girl ever do to you?”

“Fell in love with my brother,” I answer, just in time to watch his eyes grow wide before he descends.

2

No amount of research could have prepared me for the meeting from hell I just endured.

There was no doubt, I’d have my hands full with Ford Larson, NHL bad boy in desperate need of a new reputation, but finding out his agent is the man who hates me more than he hates spicy food…that’s a challenge I wasn’t counting on.

Damn Kayla for not telling me.

Unable to google who Ford’s agent was should’ve made me suspicious, but I pushed away my gut feeling to prepare for the worst since Jason specializes in MMA fighters instead of hockey players. There wasno wayJason would be Ford’s agent.

Ha, the joke is on me.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck!” The echo of my heels follows me like a loud storm through the bathroom door. The space has a soft ambient tone, a few brighter lights hanging above the gold-framed mirror, giving me a perfect vision of my shaken reflection.

What the hell am I going to do?

For the next couple of weeks, I have to work with him side by side with a tension as thick as the Berlin wall. It’s gonna take more than a sledgehammer to break through the bricks this righteous asshole has put up.

His constant glare of disdain for the last thirty minutes made it clear he’s still furious, but I’m just as mad because the asshole isn’t innocent in this whole bullshit situation. He’s a stubborn fuck, not willing to listen to reason if he thinks he’s right.

He’s not.

I pull a paper towel from the dispenser on the wall, briefly hold it underneath the sink, then push it to my neck. The wet cloth cools my flushed skin, and I shut my eyes.

I screwed up, yes. But if the bastard had listened for two seconds, this wouldn’t be as stressful as it is now. We could’ve been laughing together, like we used to. Or reliving that one night that’s been replaying rent free in my mind for months.

I shake my head, staring at my flushed self.

I’ve never seen this side of Jason. I’m accustomed to the caring, loyal, and understanding side of him. The one that would go out of his way to make me laugh when all I could do was cry.

The man who was my friend first.

It cracks my heart open a little more than it already was.

The heavy door to the bathroom opens with a sudden click, and I jump up. My hand flies to my beat-up heart when the man of the hour strides forward with purpose and determination, matched with a glare that’s borrowed by the devil himself until he’s standing directly behind me.

He looks like a thunderstorm. Ready to rain his wrath down on me.

When I meet his Nordic blue eyes in the mirror, they are almost luminous under the dim lighting, a sheer contrast with his navy dress shirt as he’s towering over me from behind. He’sclose enough to feel his energy pulsing my heart to a racing speed.

Keep breathing, Julie.

“You need to fucking leave.” The growl is deep, rumbling, vibrating through my entire nervous system.

Oh my fucking god.

My heart weeps—no, bawls—at the way he’s speaking to me. The contrast is like day and night, and it’s almost too much to process. I can’t believe our relationship has gone from a comforting warm blanket to a bucket of salt vigorously poured into an open wound.

I suck in a deep breath to prevent my spine from shivering before I open the gold metal faucet to wash my hands.

Idon’t have to do shit.

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