Page 41 of Wrong Score

As the car approaches my apartment, Bex wraps me back up in his jacket, and he smooths my hair back from my face, before pulling on his suit pants and button up shirt. He gives a soft smile, but there's also an unspoken understanding that this won't happen again.

We're still at odds, even if he came to my rescue… and then I came to his. We still have to work together, and Bex doesn't trust me. Not to mention that Bex mentioned early tonight that he plans to retire in Liverpool with no wife and no kids.

When push really comes to shove, I think I also held out hope that I'd meet a man who would want to adopt at some point. And Bex doesn't even want a wife, let alone adopt children. And then, of course, there's our age difference. Maybe the eighteen years between us have us both planning for different futures.

There's just too much between us.

Tonight, will just be tonight—nothing more.

I won't even be the least surprised if Bex is still trying to convince Sam not to let me go on any more away games.

“You okay?” he asks softly, pressing a gentle kiss to my forehead.

I nod, a slow smile curving my lips. “Better than okay. That was… something else entirely.”

Bex grins, but it’s tinged with something bittersweet. He pulls his jacket around me tighter. "I owe you a new dress, but if it's any consolation, I'd say you look better in my jacket anyway."

My belly flips with the thought of him enjoying the sight of me in the coat of his tux.

"Is that right? You like me in your jacket?" I ask, intending to keep the mood light.

"Look… Rowan…" he starts.

Oh God… He'd better not be starting the"it's not you, it's me"speech.

"You don't have to say anything—really. We're fine." I tell him, leaning up off my seat to head for the limo exit but he reaches, gripping around my wrist gently— the concern in his eyes triggering the whole reason I ran away from Drew.

I actually thought he and I might make it out of this situation as two normal adults, with no awkward conversation afterward.

But he continues.

“I’m too old for you. You deserve someone who’s not…” He pauses, searching for the right words. “Not broken down. Someone who can give you the life you deserve. Art. Travel. A family.”

"I can't have kids, remember? You don't know me as well as you think you do," I say pulling my wrist back slowly—he releases me.

I should just let it go—nod and exit, but that's just not how he and I are when we're together.

We both have a point to make, and neither of us like to relent.

I should say, "Thanks for the mind-blowing sex; see you on the opposite side of the sideboards,"but I can't make the words come out.

"There are other ways to make a family, and you will someday. Besides, you wouldn't want me," And there he goes. It's back to Summers, no more Rowan. "I’m a bloody wreck half the time. My knees are shot. I’ve had more surgeries than I can count, I’m married to this job, and I wouldn’t make anyone a good boyfriend, let alone a husband. You need someone you can start a life with."

"Sounds like you're putting yourself out to pasture," I say.

"I had the chance to have all of that. The wife, the kids… the family. I chose hockey instead and hurt someone who didn’t deserve it. If given the chance, I'll do the same thing to the next person who gets too close," he says, a look of regret in his eyes. "You deserve better than me or Drew and I hope you find it one day."

I don't know why I care that he's closing a door that I never considered would be open.

My heart clenches, but I nod. “Thank you.”

He opens the door, stepping out first in his slacks and dress shirt with the buttons not perfectly aligned.

He offers me his hand and I grab what's left of my thong before I climb out in only his tux and my matching beaded clutch, with my heels in my hand.

"The beads?" I ask.

Glancing back over my shoulder, it looks like a bead shop blew up in there.

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