Page 43 of Lost the Handle

“How you feeling?” he asks, coming inside and leaning against the dresser that’s by the door. He’s in his athletic gear, still sweaty from his workout, and I can just imagine how hot his body is now that he’s older and probably has so much more knowledge about fitness. His biceps bulge and his thighs flex as he leans, crossing his arms over his wide chest, looking way more like he belongs on the ice instead of in a surgery center.

Though, in my opinion, he belongs next to me, with snacks all around us as we write code.

But that will never be.

Maybe in another reality.

I can only hope.

I force a chuckle to keep the tears at bay. “Hungover.”

He nods slowly. “You were out of it and puked everywhere before I got there.”

“Yeah. I remember.”

Something flashes in his eyes. “Do you remember when we got back home?”

I wish he really meant this was my home, but it’s just a default word for him. “Pieces, but not a lot.”

“I had to shower you, but I was as respectful as I could be when you were basically dead in my arms.”

I laugh with no humor whatsoever. “I’m learning that’s who you are now,veryrespectful.”

His jaw ticks, and I swear I see desire in his blue depths as he mutters, “Hardly.”

“No?”

He shakes his head, pushing off the dresser and stopping in front of the bed. I can see he’s struggling with something, but I have no clue what it could be. “Is everything okay?” I find myself asking, and I slowly rise to my knees. I ignore the pounding behind my eyes and look up at him. His eyes roam over my torso before meeting my gaze. The veins in his neck are bulging, and his eyes look wary as he stares down at me. I know this isn’t the time for it, but my pussy clenches at the powerful sight of him. He towers over my bed, looking like he wants to take me, but that can’t be.

“Did something happen?” I ask.

Why do I sound hopeful? Dial it back, girl.

He shakes his head again. “No.” His one word hits me in the gut. “I wouldn’t let that happen.”

He says it like letting something happen would have been the most disgusting thing in the world. So, I snap. “Sorry you had to endure me.”

He runs his tongue along his lips. “I survived.”

“Yay,” I say dryly. I know I don’t remember, but couldn’t he be a bad guy and take me before professing his love and then dumping Ava?

No? Too much to ask? Fine.

His eyes narrow, and I sense he wants to say more, but he doesn’t. Instead, he changes the subject. “My mom said you were coming to dinner tomorrow.”

I bring in my brows. “Yeah?”

“Ava will be there.” I don’t know what to say. I don’t even know how to react, so I just stare at him. His eyes search mine, and for some reason, I think I see pain in his gaze. Pain about what, though?

“Are you asking me not to go?”

“No, I wouldn’t do that,” he says quickly, shaking his head. “I don’t want to argue with you anymore. Last night was a lot, and I don’t want a repeat. Particularly in front of our families and Ava.”

I nod in understanding. When we fight, it’s a war, and I know that. It doesn’t help that we’re both passionate people, especially when it comes to each other. We’re the youngest of our families—we have big feelings.

And fuck if I don’t feel some damn big things for him.

I don’t love you.

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