Page 7 of Fool Me Once

“Oh, he is,” she says, rolling her eyes and applying some lip gloss.

Knowing Ryder might be here obviously has her in a tizzy. Apparently, not long ago, they had a one-night stand, which wouldn’t be a problem because Saylor is very … friendly, but Ryder is Smith’s best friend. And there’s other drama with an ex-teammate and her, which somehow ties to Smith, though I don’t have the mental capacity to figure out how. So, regardless … she isn’t Ryder’s biggest fan these days.

Suddenly, her eyes move to the front door, and I follow her gaze as the door opens. I’m pretty sure my heart stops pumping and my breath hitches in my throat. Because for the first time in far too long … I’m staring at Smith.

It’s annoying that he somehow looks even better than he did all those years ago. He’s grown up and aged like a damn fine wine. And me? I look like I’ve been hit by a dump truck. Everyone knows that when you see an ex, even if it’s one you’re over—which Itotallyam—you don’twant to look like dog shit. You want to look so good that they instantly realize they missed out.

Now, I just have to hope and pray his big-mouthed sister—God love her—keeps the story straight. The last thing I need is Smith trying to step in and play Superman.

I stand here, watching as my sister and Gemma open the car doors and climb out. I’m not a nervous guy. Being a professional athlete and all, I really can’t be one. Yet, when they walk toward me, I know I’m about to come face-to-face with the girl I left behind and have yet to get over.

What’s worse is, even though it’s dark out, it’s clear as day how skinny Gemma is now. The last time I saw her was at my sister’s high school graduation, and even though she’s always been slender … now, she’s smaller than she was back then.

The day of graduation, we crossed paths, and she kept her eyes fixed on anything but me. When she gave her speech before that—because, of course, Gemma was valedictorian—I got to watch her stand before her class, just like she deserved. Knowing that, after, she was headed to her dream school—Stanford. Everything had worked out exactly as it should. Proving I had done the right thing by taking myself out of her life.

Her dad had had a point when he was concerned she was going to throw her life away for me. If she had followed me to college, she wouldn’t have gone to Stanford.

Now, she’s not just here in Portland, but at Kolt’s Friendsgiving, and I have no fucking clue why. My sister moved here six months ago to be closer to her job at the hospital, so I’d have felt like an asshole if I hadn’t invited her tonight to have dinner with my team and their families. But I had no idea until about ten minutes ago that Saylor was bringingGemma with her.

Saylor marches toward me and up the few steps before throwing her arms around me. “Hey, loser.”

“Fuck you,” I grumble as she squeezes me, and I stare at Gemma.

I take in her long brown hair that’s not styled or curled, but flows down her back in silky waves. Her expression is blank, like she’s not even in there.

As soon as our eyes meet, she looks down at the ground nervously. But that’s not what gets to me. What has my body stiffening and my fists clenching is the barely visible bruise on her cheek and the cut below it. Hell, even her bottom lip looks injured.

“What happened to you?” rushes from my mouth before I can stop it, and I wave my hand toward Gemma’s face. “Whothe fuck did that to you?”

Panic fills her face, and her skin pales. Her throat works as she swallows. She shakes her head lightly, though she’s trying to keep herself together. “I, uh … I got in a car accident the other day. Distracted driver. You know how it is.” She pauses, as if knowing she sounds like she’s bullshitting me. “Is it okay that I’m here? If not, I can totally go hang out at Saylor’s apartment.”

I glance at Saylor, who widens her eyes and gives me ado not fuck with herlook.

Even though I want to get to the bottom of why Gemma looks hurt, reluctantly, I exhale slowly. “Nah, it’s all good. Come on in.”

My sister wastes no time plowing into the house, whereas Gemma is a bit slower to take the first step inside. Saylor stops, waiting for her. Once Gemma finally steps through the door, I close it behind us while they wait for me to lead the way.

Being extremely thin isn’t the only thing that’s changed. She doesn’t walk into the room the way she used to either. She isn’t standing tall or appearing confident. But instead, she looks around nervously, not making eye contact with anyone. She reminds me of a stray cat that is terrified of everyone who comes close to it. Even her body language has changed.

I have no idea why she’s here, especially since, last I heard, she’s getting married any day now. But I know one thing for sure: something has changed her. And I am going to find out what it was.

An hour later, when my sister finally heads to the kitchen without Gemma stuck to her side like glue, I follow her quickly.

It’s just us, and it’s time to get answers.

“Why is she here?” I ask, gripping the countertop. “Why isn’t she back in California with her trust-fund fiancé? Or with her parents in Wellton?”

She twists the top off the bottle of vodka before pouring herself a drink and shoots me a harsh look. “That isn’t my story to tell, Smith.” She looks around, making sure no one is in the room. “Besides, when you left without saying goodbye to her, I think you lost the right to ask.”

I grab a cup and fill it with ice. “That was six years ago, dipshit,” I groan, pouring some Jack over the ice and dumping some Coke in. “And she’s not going to tell me, so you might as well.”

She brings the plastic cup to her lips and takes a sip. Her eyes peek over it, glaring before she brings it down.

“I am not telling you a damn thing when it comes to my best friend, Smith.” There’s no mistaking the pain in my sister’s voice or the grimace on her face.

“Well, can you tell me anything? It’s obvious something’s bothering you.”

A regretful look flashes across her face. “I found out a few days ago that I got that job I’d applied for in South Carolina.” She chews her lip nervously. That’s always been my sister’s tell that she’s about to say something she really doesn’t want to. “I have to go, Smith.”

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