Page 6 of Where We Belong

“So, Finn, you’ve met our new coach, Lexie?” Mom says.

I look around, confused. That is, until I realize who my mother is pointing at. My brows lift high as I repeat, “Lexie?” Meanwhile, the tips of Lexie’s ears redden as she fakes a smile.

“Yeah, we’ve met,” she says, not elaborating any further.

“Good,” Mom says. “Well, I gotta go, but I’ll see you guys later! Great first day, Lexie.” She grins at her with a thumbs-up, then leaves toward her office. I don’t look her way, though. My gaze is fixed on the girl standing in front of me, with her red cheeks and a tilted-up chin.

“Callie, do you mind going to wait for me in the car for a sec?” I ask as I give Aaron’s sister my keys while maintaining my staring contest withher.

“Don’t be too long, I have homework,” Callie answers before she thankfully listens, leaving the two of us alone.

“So,Stacey,huh?”

Her jaw tightens. “We were with a group of random boys in a foreign city. It would’ve been dumbnotto use fake names.”

I tilt my head. “So you can lie, but I can’t, is that it?”

“That’s not the same thing.”

“Seems pretty similar to me,” I add with a smirk. That little heathen was making me feel two inches tall for using a fake accent when she gave me a fake name for an entire night.

“I used another name, I didn’t steal from your pocket and ensure you had six crappy months to follow.”

My grin disappears. I’m not sure what the second part of her statement means, but she does have a point about the first. Just imagining some guys doing this to Callie or to my own sister makes me grit my teeth. I’m not blame-free just because I wasn’t the one to do it.

“Look—”

“My name doesn’t matter anyway,” she interrupts. “We don’t have any reason to interact again.”

“You live on the property I manage,” I point out.

She gives me a smile that’s bordering on creepy. “I’d rather not be reminded.”

I frown. Not to sound conceited, but I’m used to people liking me. I’ve always been an easygoing, people-pleasing man, and starting on such a bad foot with someone is making me more uncomfortable than I’d have thought. Plus, I can’t imagine why she’d still bethismad after seven years have passed.

She turns as words escape my lips. “Don’t you think you’re taking things—”

I don’t have the time to finish my point before she’s stomping back to me. “I wouldn’t finish this sentence if I were you.” Her nostrils flare. “I’ve had a really crappy week—month, year, you name it—and I don’t think I can handle dealing with yet another asshole. I’m just asking for one day of peace. Just. One.” Her voice cracks on that last word, and she pauses before adding, “So please, walk away.”

My lips twist to the side as I watch her. Her breaths are coming in and out fast, dark circles underlining her beautiful eyes, and I don’t like that I might be responsible for this. I don’t mind riling women up when we’re fucking around, but this isn’t the same. She’s hurt, or at least she has been hurt, and she’s counting me among the people that are making her life hard.

I fucking hate it.

But I won’t make things better by staying and trying to explain that I’ve changed, that I’m a much better person than I was at twenty-one and that I’m deeply ashamed of a lot of things from my past. Maybe another time, I’ll be able to convince her, but now’s not the time.

So I give her a nod and walk outside and drive Callie back to the farm before burying myself in work.

But no matter how much I exhaust myself, the distraught look in her eyes stays with me all night.

Chapter 3

Lexie

Ishouldbesleeping.

I don’t need a doctor to tell me my daily routine is unhealthy. However, I also think doctors often forget that healthy schedules are not for everyone. Having time to work, exercise, cook dinner, spend time for yourself,andgo to bed at a reasonable hour is only possible for rich people who have their lives together. Or maybe just for people who don’t have a stupid dream like mine.

It’s almost 1:00 a.m., and I have to be up in about six hours, but I can’t leave until I get myself to do this one thing. My gaze drifts to the multiple sets of uneven bars looming from the shadows of the gym, almost like the villains of a horror movie. And the worst part is they don’t just look like it. To me, theyare.

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