Page 77 of The Fine Line
“I’m scared of plenty,” I murmur, leaning against the bench wall. “Today I’ve realized… there’s more than I want to admit.”
Silence stretches.
“I’m scared too,” he says, barely audible.
I glance at him. “Of what?”
He presses his lips together like he’s thinking—but before he can answer, his phone rings from behind me.
I pick it up off the bench.
“Austin Blonde #9?” I read, flashing him the screen. “Really, Rhett?”
He rubs the back of his neck. “Just send it to voicemail.”
“You sure? She might tell Austin Brunette #4 what a jerk you are.”
“They’re not friends—” He stops when I raise my brows.
“You’re unbelievable,” I say, ending the call.
I set his phone down and grab my bag.
“Hey,” he calls as I turn to leave.
I stop, letting out a sigh before I face him again. “Yes?”
“Thank you. You fixed my slap shot.”
“I just told you what I saw.”
“You see more than most.”
“Well, it’s kinda my job—” I start, then falter. We’re both thinking it.
It was my job.
And I was going to be damn good at it.
“But it’s more than that,” Rhett says. “It’s not just a job. It’s in your blood.”
“Yeah, well, my blood is half the reason it’s slipping through my fingers.” I swallow hard.
“Cub?”
“Yeah?”
He skates closer. “You don’t have to give it up.”
“Well, it’s not like I have a choice.”
“But… you do.”
“I do?” I say, the irony landing hard. I shake my head. “No. No, I don’t.”
He doesn’t look away.
“Stop looking at me like that.”
