Page 13 of Play Pretend

“I’m not?—”

“Interested,” she finished. “So you said.”

She followed behind me like an eager puppy as I stomped through the building toward my office in the back, her shorter legs struggling to keep up with my long strides. I should’ve slowed down, but I wanted to get away from her and this conversation as quickly as possible.

“I need to go over reports, and?—”

“Just think about it.” She leaned against the doorframe, her eyes burning a hole into my back as I rounded my desk and sank into my chair. Our eyes met from across the room, and she gave me one of her famous smug smiles. “Emma and Lola are?—”

“I don’t care,” I ground out. “I don’t want a girlfriend. I don’t want to date anyone. I don’t—” I let out a harsh breath through my nose. “I just want to work and go home and be left alone.”

She stared at me, her smile slowly falling, the light in her eyes dimming. “That’s a very lonely existence, big bro.” The words were soft, almost reverent, and it made my heart tighten.

“How can I be lonely when you’re always up my ass?” I muttered, needing to lighten the mood. It worked, because she shoved off the doorframe, and flipped me off before disappearing down the hall.

When she was gone, I sank deeper into my chair. My fingers pierced through my hair as I sighed. I knew she was right—Iwaslonely. It wasn’t news to me, or to anyone else, but dating seemed like a damn nightmare.

The small talk, the endless games of meaningless twenty-questions, the dates, the first times, and…everything else. It was exhausting. It was time consuming, and when I had so little of it to spare, it wasn’t something I wanted to waste my energy on.

I was content with how things were.

But as I settled into work, my eyes skimming report after report, I couldn’t shake the uneasy feeling that maybe therewassomething missing.

ronan

Rocks crunched under my tires as I pulled up to the duplex. Golden light poured through Willow’s open windows, and I didn’t need to get out of my truck to know she was blaring a Bob Dylan album.

I hated how much her taste in music didn’t annoy me.

Grabbing the paper bag from the passenger seat, I slid from the truck, clicking thelockbutton on my remote seven times. The horn honked over and over, and I cringed, wishing I didn’thaveto do this. But I did. No matter how hard I fought against it, I didn’t have a choice.

I was exhausted—not a sleepy exhausted, but a bone-deep exhausted. The kind of exhaustion that seeped into my soul and made itself at home, like an unwanted guest. It never left, no matter the amount of rest I got.

The stairs creaked as I trudged up onto the porch, and I made a mental note to fix them before someone fell through and hurt themselves. It would likely be Trinity, seeing as she couldn’t breathe without hurting herself.

My gaze caught on the sea salt and dirt caked on the siding of the house. I needed to clean that too, but it would be an all-day job, and I didn’t have the time or energy right now. Musicfloated through the window like I knew it would. The scent of something cooking filled the air, making my mouth water. My stomach grumbled, and I turned a seething glance to the paper sack that housed my sad excuse of a dinner.

I needed to learn to cook, or at least run by Mom’s place more often so I could have a home-cooked meal every once in a while.

Shaking my head I went inside, switching the lock on the door seven times before shucking off my jacket. I hung it and my keys on their rightful hooks, then slid off my boots, leaving them on the rack by the door.

Every day was the same.

Sometimes it felt like I was on a never-ending hamster wheel. There had to be more to life than this.

My mind drifted back to my conversation with Trin yesterday. I couldn’t stop thinking about it, about what it would be like to come home to a house filled with warmth, and laughter, and love.

But I was too busy to date—too busy to even consider it. A part of me wanted to come home to a family, but getting to that point felt overwhelming.

Both of my brothers lived in New York, not that they ever saw or spoke to each other. My dad was dead, my sister was…how she was. And lately, Mom was more interested in town gossip than anything else.

Iwaslonely; I could admit that. But what could I do about it? Dating apps were out of the question for many reasons, and I didn’t know how to authentically connect with or meet anyone.

I went to The Taphouse every week with Trinity and her best friend, Brynne. Maybe I could find someone there? But the thought of talking to some townie I grew up with made my skin crawl. I’d seen almost every woman between the ages of twenty-four and thirty-five grow up.

I saw them through their awkward phases. I knew who they’d slept with. I knew who their families were and where they went to college. I already knew everything about them.

What was left to learn?

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