Page 112 of The Chance

Why are there only four plain ass mugs in there?

“I’ve been going to counselling a lot more,” I admit on an almost ramble and cross my arms over my chest. “And she helped me realize that the last time I saw you …” I bite my lip when the wave of pain takes over my chest. “Not only did you hurt me, but I hurt you, too.”

He nods, an encouraging thing, so I continue.

“It’s stupid to hold onto the things that I did. Things others said or did, against you. It wasn’t fair.” I take a deep breath and stare at his chest instead of his face. “But neither were you.”

There’s a slight jerk to him. Like he tried to hold back the reaction to the sting and failed.

“I felt for a long time that our friendship was conditional. Part of your job to keep me entertained. That it was only ever surface level for you and nothing more. Which terrified me, to be honest. But I …” I have to swallow back the emotion that clogs my throat.

“Mac,” Jordan croaks and it’s so thick that it pulls at my heart strings.

“I meant what I said that day in the treehouse.”

“Which part?” he nearly whispers.

My inhale is shaky. My exhale even more so.

“That I love…d you,” I whisper back to his chest, my eyes burning, my ribs aching. “And it’s okay that it’ll only ever be that.”

His shirt rises. Falls with his deep exhale and it’s almost as shaky as mine.

“You done now?” His voice is all grated husk.

The kettle lets out a rumble from its boil between us, but it’s not hissing just yet.

I nod.

He stays silent for a long beat, and in the past I would push him or get upset that he’s so damn quiet. But something about this whole night is just … different. So, I stay staring at his pecs and clear my throat. He’ll say something or he won’t and then I’ll finally know for sure.

Closure and all that bullshit.

“You’re not the only one—labels are fucking bullshit and people are complicated. More complex than a simple identifier and I refuse to follow the textbook because none of them make any fucking sense.” My brow creases at his frustration and my glance raises from his chest to his chin, though I don’t think his emotion is aimed at me. “How you love me—loved me—” he clears his throat “—doesn’t make sense because I hid so much and I’m,fuck,I thought I was simple, but I’m not. I’m complicated, just like the rest of them. Us.You.”

I shake my head. “You’re not making any sense. Of course you’re complicated. You’re human.”

He growls and snatches the kettle, though it still hasn’t whistled.

“I know,” he says shakily. “I never thought—” He clears his throat and pours. “I never thought I’d get the chance to actually say this shit out loud to you.”

That hurts.

Accepting the offered mug, I follow him back to the couch with trembling legs and tight knuckles.

We settled into the opposite sides, and I note this side isn’t nearly as lumpy. Which is just fucking weird because the whole thing looks broken in and now I’m questioning my sanity.

I make the mistake of looking at Jordan, preparing to make a comment on the matter, only to freeze at the sight of his clenched jaw and far off stare into his mug.

No, wait … he’s staring past it like it’s not even there.

I follow his gaze and—

His hat?

“I’m done running.”

The mug hits the coffee table harsh enough that some of his undrunk tea sloshes over the side, but he pays it no mind. Just wipes it away on his shorts and turns to me full on. When that’s not good enough, he pulls his leg up, bending it along the cushion between us and stares straight into my fucking soul.

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