Page 163 of Always You

I wish it was all different. I wish I could forgive him and we could pick up where we left off, but even if I could, where would that put us? Back to being friends once a week? Where we’d catch up and he’d start dating some other Laurie? Or would we continue what we had before he moved to LA? In my head, neither is an option, because number one I’d never want to relive and the other isn’t possible… because we aren’t teenagers anymore. He might be the same old dog I accused him to be, only richer and famous, but I’m definitely not the same.

But this time he said I love you.

The thought jams into my head like it’s not my own. I can hardly believe he actually said that those eight letters. I’d like to tell myself I misheard, that it was my imagination, but his haunted eyes seared through mine, selling me every word with an urgency I’ve been waiting for since the first day we’ve met.He told me he loved me, goddammit.

Fuck him, for knowing exactly what to say at the right moment.

Fuck him, for messing with my head again.

Fuck him, for finally doing it in the right way.

And fuck me for actually wanting to believe him.

Rubbing away the moisture from my jaw with the back of my hand, I blink the rest of my tears away when my eyes land on the little piece of plastic in the driveway. Still sniffling, I get up to take a few steps, then pick up the black credit card that sure as hell isn’t mine.But I know whose it is.

It must’ve fallen out of his pocket when he opened the door and the good girl in me is already fishing for her phone from the back of her shorts to give him a call.

But when I see his name on my screen, I hesitate, the credit card in hand.

I’m not vindictive.

I’m really not.

But Hunter doesn’t play fair, so why should I?

64

“So, I take it’s going well?” Jensen doesn’t even try to hide his laughter that’s now echoing through the phone. My eyes are trained on the Candince Swanepoel poster on the wall, making a mental reminder that I need to give this room a makeover. Part of me feels nostalgic staying in my childhood bedroom, but the other part gets depressed being catapulted back in time.

“She hates me.”

“Well, she does have a good reason.”

“You’re not helping.” My legs are stretched out before me, my back pressed against the headboard.

“I know. But I’m having so much fun with this.”

“Shut up.” I bite my smile away.Hockey dickhead.

“So, what's the plan?” he questions when he’s done cackling.

I rub a hand over my face. “I don’t fucking know. Give her a few days to cool off and try again?” What else can I fucking do without her trying to rip my head off?

Jensen snorts, and I roll my eyes prematurely, knowing some kind of bullshit answer will come from his lips. “What are you, a fucking pussy? Come on, you’re Hunter Hansen. You don’t sit around and wait. Didn’t you say she has a boyfriend?”

“Yeah.”

“Can’t give him too much time to swoop in and save the day.”

Not gonna lie, that’s definitely something I want to avoid. “What do you suggest?”

“Take what's yours.”

“I’ll only piss her off more.”

Another snort. “Like that ever stopped you.”

It didn’t, but that was my mistake. I walked into her world like a damn hurricane multiple times, never giving her any time to adjust. The amount of hot and cold moments is a fucking disgrace. I keep saying she deserves better; well, pushing her before she’s ready is part of that.

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