Page 41 of Rewind It Back

Tonight’s shift was rough. I got stiffed more times than I could count, someone walked out on their tab without paying, and I had a drink spilled down my shirt. And that all happenedafterthat scary phone call from Luke regarding my dad and the shit show of a meeting with Rio.

Initially, I texted my boss and told him I was going to be late, but when the design meeting became too much, I hightailed my way to the bar. I made shit money tonight, but it’s more than I started the day with, so it’s something, I guess.

The two a.m. silence is nice. Calming and welcomed after a long shift in a loud bar followed by an equally loud drive thanks to my rattling engine. I don’t want to move. I want to sleep right here, wearing my beer-scented clothes and god-awful nonslip shoes.

I lay my head back, about to close my eyes, when a figure catches my attention out of my periphery. It’s the middle of the night so I should probably have some sense of fear, but I’m not scared in the slightest. I’d recognize him anywhere.

Rio is sitting on his front steps, elbows leaning on his knees and hands laced together when he looks up and over in my direction. It’s not a quick glance, but a lingering stare, letting me know that the reason he’s on his front steps is because he’s waiting for me.

My stomach instantly fills with dread. I thought I’d have more time until I had to face him. I’m not ready to do this again, especially at two in the morning.

Sure, me running out of our meeting was a tad dramatic, but it was the compilation of everything. Seeing him again. Living next door. Him asking about my brother and telling me I look good.

Seriously, what the fuck was that?

Then immediately, he tried to be a jerk as if he realized he was being too kind.

Don’t get me wrong, Rio could’ve said a lot worse, but the guy doesn’t have a naturally mean bone in his body. So, I guess it was the realization that he feels hehasto be shitty towards me, as if that’s what I deserve from him now, that hurts the worst.

I’m trying to move forward, attempt some sort of working relationship, but he kept bringing up the past—a past in which he obliterated my heart and left me to figure out life without him.

My attention finds him again when he pushes off the steps, and with his hands tucked into the pockets of his sweatpants, he starts in my direction, crossing the lawn that connects our two houses.

It’s chilly out, but he looks obnoxiously comfortable in those black sweatpants and his team-issued hoodie. His curls are a bit frizzy, as if he took a shower and didn’t put any product in his hair after, but his eyes look heavy with the need for sleep.

I’m not surprised that he’s awake at this hour, though. I remember him being a ball of energy at times and that’swithoutdrinking caffeine, but his brain doesn’t always understand when it’s time to wind down. Rio has never been a great sleeper. I found him in the middle of the night, sitting on the roof between our childhood bedrooms enough times to prove that.

Well, that is until my thirteenth birthday when he fell asleep on my bedroom floor as we listened to music, and he realized he could sleep just fine there. I started keeping my window unlocked after that, and he started sneaking in to sleep on the ground by my bed when he couldn’t find rest on his own.

God, the nostalgia is making me sick. Today’s meeting only made me miss him. The old him. But he made it perfectly clear that version no longer exists.

Before Rio fully crosses the lawn to me, I stuff my serving apron in my tote bag, including my cash tips, before finding the strength to get out of the car and meet him on the driveway.

“Hey,” he says, his voice tired, and I’m not sure if it’s because of the late hour or if he’s been stressed about how our meeting ended.

I stop about two feet away from him, arms crossed around my middle. “Hey.”

His eyes trail up and down my body, looking at my clothes and clearly trying to figure out where I’ve been. I’m not stupid. I know he assumed I had a date tonight, but I’m also not going to correct him. The man is a professional hockey player, loves his mom, and looks likethat. I’m not naïve enough to think other women don’t see what I always did, nor am I going to try to convince myself that he’s not actively dating. So even though I’m not, he doesn’t need that clarification.

“Are you okay?” His tone is gentle.

I nod. “Are you?”

“Yeah. No.” He hesitates. “I don’t know. We need to talk about earlier—”

“I don’t want to argue right now, Rio.” I take a step by him, heading for the front door. “It’s been a long day. I’m exhausted.”

“I’m not here to argue.” He wraps a hand around my bicep to stop me, but it’s gentle, light enough that it wouldn’t actually hold me back if I wanted to keep going. “I’m here to apologize.”

I follow his hand, up to his face, to find green eyes pleading for me to hear him out.

“I’m sorry about today. I... I have no idea how to be around you anymore, Hallie.” He rubs that same hand against the back of his neck. “I know I made things weird, asking about Luke. The thing with the heart. I’ve only ever been one way with you, and now I’m having to constantly remind myself that we aren’t those people anymore.”

It’s strange. I’ve known that for a long time now. I’ve known that any kind of cordial, working relationship we might be able to form, any kind of tolerance for one another, will never come close to the way we used to be together. But still, it doesn’t feel great to hear that confirmed from the other party involved.

He’s quiet for a moment before he admits, “I don’t know how to treat you anymore.”

“I don’t either.”

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