Page 72 of Bound

She frowns. “About what?”

“You say you lived on the sidelines, that you hid your heart and didn’t let anyone in, but—” I nod at a table full of hockey players getting ready to battle senior citizens in bingo alongside her grandmother, at the woman who cares enough to remind me to treat her right. “You have all ofthis.”

“Grumpy old people and surly hockey players?”

My mouth quirks. Because I know she reads me, hears me…

But also get why she doesn’t want heavy right now.

This is the first time Gran’s out in ages. I’m here. The guys are locked and loaded.

She wants a good night.

And I know that I was talking a big talk when I allowed myself to get to this point, to have her, to pursue this draw between us—saying that I was going to let her go when she was done with me so I’d make that first move.

But I some part of me also knew…

That was never going to happen.

Letting her go.

Letting her be done with me.

She’s mine. I’ve fallen deep and hard, and I fucking love her.

Which is why I give her the out.

Why I give her what she needs to enjoy the night.

I touch her cheek and deliberately change the subject to light.

“What are the odds that Smitty causes a cake riot?”

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

Claire

Smitty doesn’t, in fact, cause a cake riot.

But it’s a close thing because he gets bingo twice.

“I don’t care if you have an entire blackout,” Jackson had growled at him, “but if you win another fucking round and make trouble for Junie”—because our neighbors at a nearby table looked ready to commit dabber-cide—“I will gleefully throw you to the permed, cat-sweater-wearing old ladies.”

Smitty had taken a look around and wisely shut his mouth for the duration of the night.

Even though, I’m pretty sure I saw he had a bingo in the last game.

Now, I watch as Jackson carries Gran, passed out and exhausted from all the activity of the evening. I’d feel bad if not for the fact that she had a great night, one of the best in a while, smiling and ordering the guys around, grumbling when her numbers weren’t pulled, eating not one but two giant slices of cake.

She hadn’t seemed tired.

But the moment we hit the highway, she wasout.

Snoring away in the back seat, leaving Jackson and I to share quiet looks as he navigated back to my place.

Now, he settles her on the bed and leaves me to get her comfy and tuck her into bed. She doesn’t move as I take off her shoes, set her glasses on the side table, along with her purse, and plug in her phone, doesn’t so much as make a peep as I turn off the lights and step out into the hall.

And find it empty.

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