Page 137 of The Wrong Play

“Missed you, Riley-girl,” he murmured, his voice softer now, still playful but edged with somethingreal.

I swallowed hard, trying not to cry as I pressed my cheek against his chest, letting myself sink into him for just a second. “Missed you, too.”

And for just a moment, I let myself pretend it was that simple.

“I’ve got a new one today,” he said, still holding me close as he grabbed a cookie from the counter and started munching it. I snorted as a crumb fell on my nose.

“What is it?” I asked, trying to force a grin across my mouth.

“What do you call a man with a two-inch penis?”

I blinked, trying to think of what the answer could possibly be. “I have absolutely no idea,” I told him, shaking my head asanothercookie crumb fell on my face.

“Just-in,” Jace said proudly.

It took me a second, and then a strange cackle came from my mouth.

“See, you have a much better sense of humor than Parker and Matty. I need to have a talk with them about how much they’ve slipped in theper serankings lately.”

I forced a smile as he pulled me back so we could look at each other. “Yeah, you better get on that,” I told him softly, trying to keep that smile on my lips.

His brows drew together as he studied my face. “Riley.” His voice was careful, his eyes running over me like he was cataloging every inch, every flicker of something off.

“Yes, Jace.”

“What’s wrong?”

I opened my mouth, hesitating while I tried to think of what to say.

“It was just a long day at work. I swear the entire freshman class of UT came in for caramel macchiatos all at once.” I exhaled a laugh like it was funny, like it was normal. Like I hadn’t spent the last three hours gripping the counter so hard my nails had nearly splintered, Callum’s words replaying in my head over and over like a curse.

Jace didn’t look convinced. His gaze lingered, his jaw ticking slightly.

“Yeah?” He leaned against the counter, crossing his arms. “You sure that’s all?”

I nodded too fast. “Yep. Just tired.”

He didn’t say anything. Just watched me.

And I felt it.

Felt his gaze on me all evening.

Through dinner, when I barely ate. Through the movie we half-watched, when I curled into his side, pretending that the warmth of his body was enough to keep the cold fear at bay. Through every tiny moment where I felt my mind drifting, my fingers gripping the fabric of his hoodie, needing something solid to hold onto.

Because if Jace knew?—

If he knew that Callum was here, that he was watching, waiting, already sinking his claws in—if he knew that Callum had been as old as my father…and married…

Would he still look at me the same way?

Or would he see me as something broken?

As something ruined?

I pressed closer to him, breathing in his scent, feeling the solid warmth of him under my fingertips.

Jace Thatcher was a lot of things—reckless, cocky, infuriatingly overconfident.

---