Page 111 of The Chance

My thrumming fingers gently wander over her back and hind legs, the places I know are semi-safe zones on a cat, and I try really hard to keep my gaze on her black and white spots instead of looking at her dad.

He’s a fucking cat dad now!

A new ache blossoms inside my chest at all the things that I’ve missed, all the newness of everything in Jordan’s life, things I would have never known if I didn’t walk through that door, and yet … here he is. Right fucking next to me. Making it seem like things are the same as they have always been. As if there were never a thousand miles separating us. That this is just another movie night between rock star and bodyguard turned best friends.

I thought he hated it.

Only did the things and agreed with me to keep me appeased. To keep my ass out of trouble.

Called me his best friend because I said so.

Slept with me to ease an itch.

But now he doesn’t work for Sentry, and he’s made me mac and cheese and I’m petting his cat from insidehisapartment in the damn gym that he bought and runs on his own.

“Why are you doing this?” I blurt out to the side of Jordan’s face, a little too loudly, and startle the cat.

She takes off, leaving only minimal skid marks in her wake and a whole lot of fucking white hair all over my black shirt. I don’t even care because I’m looking at that strong jawline and waiting.

Waiting to see those navy blues light up. Or his brow quirk.

Or that goddamned not-smile.

Jordan is slow to turn to me, to meet my gaze, with only a mild hint of a grin and some hesitation.

He’s calm otherwise, to my racing breath and near panic. Stoic.

Gorgeous.

So goddamn gorgeous.

Meanwhile, I’m certain that he canseemy heartbeat with how hard it thunders inside my chest. Maybe even hear my stomach wring up. Feel the vibration of my limbs through the couch.

“Why don’t we start with why you came.”

“I … needed to—” I swallow hard because I’m not sure I should admit to anything, butfuck, I want to. I want to tell him that I’ve looked for him in every person I’ve passed since I met him. To tell him that no one has ever gotten me like he does. That no matter how hard I fucking try, I’ve never been able to get him out of my head, even after all this time. Because I know things. I feelthings deep in my soul that tell me I will never belong to anyone but him and I needed to know if there was ever a chance. A hope. A spark that ever existed.

That I need closure.

To end this chapter of my life once and for all.

And that I’m sorry. For the way I acted over the years, but especially for what happened when I saw him last.

He watches me, not harshly just curiously, as I get my mouth to move except no sound comes out.

I’m gearing to tell him that last bit. The one about closure, and yet I’m frozen.

Because it feels so fuckingwrong.

Closing this thing I can still feel sparking between us … it feels impossible.

And being here with him … even as old friends falling easily back into our old habits like movie watching and sharing space … that is what feels fuckingright.

“This couch is not comfy,” I blurt instead and the bark of laughter from Jordan nearly startles me, but then settles into another one of those wide-open craters in my chest.

“I knew you’d say that.” He’s still laughing when he gets up and heads back to the kitchen with our dishes.

I follow because I feel like I should help and end up in the way when he sets a kettle on the stove to heat. Mugs are pulled from a bare cabinet, and I frown when the simple burnt orange-patterned ceramic is placed on the counter. He adds tea bags, sugar to mine, and props a hip on the counter to wait out the kettle. And me, I guess.

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