Page 55 of End Game

“It was nothing.”

She actually snorts. “Oh, it was something. What’s your problem, anyway?”

I open my mouth and say the first thing that comes to mind. The God’s honest truth.

“You are.”

Chapter Nineteen

EVERLEIGH

Nico’s answer leaves me breathless.

A little angry.

A lot confused.

He’s still sitting at the table, though his chair is pushed back and he’s leaning forward, his forearms resting on his thighs, his hands hanging between his spread knees. Watching me with those dark eyes.

“Why?” I ask, my voice hoarse. My throat aches from holding back everything I want to say to him, and in that moment, I decide to unleash on this man who’s driven me crazy from pretty much day one. “You don’t like it that I cook you guys dinner? That I keep the house nice? That it doesn’t smell like feet anymore since I’m constantly burning candles and I make you all keep your shoes outside? Am I the problem for finally getting rid of the mold in our bathroom? You’re welcome for all of that, by the way.”

“Thank you,” he murmurs, his deep voice rippling along my nerve endings.

Making me shiver.

“Come here,” he says after a few seconds of silence, and like a fool—like the stupid, gone-for-him fool that I am—I walk toward him, anticipation dancing along my skin. Coursing through my blood. Myheart is racing, and when I stop directly in front of him, he glances up at me, sitting up fully, reaching out his hand to grab mine.

His reflexes are quick. Somehow, he yanks on my hand, and next thing I know, I’m pressed against the table, my butt right at the edge of it and Nico standing in front of me. Towering over me. Reminding me yet again how tall and powerful he is. His broad shoulders block everything else so I can see nothing but him, a shuddery breath escaping me when he shifts even closer.

“You’re—you’re invading my personal space,” I warn, my voice weak.

He laughs—actually laughs, the jerk. “Seriously?”

I barely nod.

“Well, guess what? You invade my personal space all the damn time. In the morning when I wake up, you’re in the kitchen making us coffee. Your late-afternoon yoga sessions and how you make us dinner practically every night with a smile on your face. Like you get off on feeding us.”

I don’t ...get offon feeding them, but I do love seeing them looking pleased while they eat and how they always, always clean their plates after every meal. I also try my best to make sure the meals don’t consist of wasted calories and that they include plenty of protein to keep their bodies fueled. They appreciate it. I know they do, thanks to all the compliments I receive from them after they eat dinner.

Does that go against every feminist feeling I have? I’m not here to serve the men, absolutely not. But I do enjoy cooking and doing yoga and helping people. I always have. My grandma told me a long time ago that I should lean into what makes me happy and make it my life’s work if I could. That’s why I’m majoring in nutrition and hope to help people as a career.

It just comes naturally to me.

“And you’re especially right here,” he continues, tapping the side of his head. “You invade this personal space of mine all the fucking time.”

Shock washes over me, rendering me speechless.

“I can’t stop thinking about you,” Nico admits, his gaze never wavering from mine. “Because you’re always right here.” He taps his head again.

I remain silent, unable to come up with the proper words to respond.

“What about you?” he asks after the longest thirty seconds of my life. Maybe it was a minute. Maybe it was only ten seconds.

I don’t know.

“What about me?” I croak, clearing my throat.

“Do you think about me as much as I think about you?”

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