Page 45 of Divorced from Number Thirty-Eight
She touches his jaw, fingers sliding through the bristles of his beard.
Then she moves close to Faye. “Nice to meet you,” she says, gently squeezing Faye’s arm. A wave in my direction as she slips away.
Leaving us with just Smitty.
I open my mouth because fuck if this man is going startle Faye again.
But he doesn’t frighten Faye by speaking loudly. He doesn’t even touch her.
Instead, he crouches a little—or really, a lot—to meet her eyes. “See you around, Faye,” he murmurs.
Yup. Smitty is murmuring.
Never thought I’d see the day.
Faye manages a nod and I watch the jerky movement radiate through Smitty, know it’s doing the same thing to him that it does to me—triggering all sorts of Me man. Me protect. caveman bullshit.
But I don’t rein it in.
Just dip my head to the door, silently telling my teammate to not let it hit him in the ass on the way out.
His mouth twitches, but he follows the silent order and beats it, closing the door behind him.
I make sure Faye is steady before stepping back from her and flicking the lock.
Then I shift closer again, study her face.
She exhales, lifting a shaking hand, pushing her hair away from her hand. “I’m sorry,” she whispers. “I-uh…that was really nice of them. I, um, shouldn’t have—” Teeth press into her bottom lip. “I’m not used to…” Her gaze slides to the side. “I’m not used to all of that.”
Because she’s alone.
My heart convulses and I grind my teeth together.
Because that thought makes me want to punch something.
But I need my hands for the game tonight.
A game I need to start thinking about.
Instead of a woman I barely know, who I want to keep close, who I need to learn, who I can’t seem to let go even though there are far too many complications.
She’s my neighbor. She’s soft and shy and dealing with trauma I’m not equipped to handle. And she’s alone. And…I’m me. The interest is there, the beginning of an obsession. It’s not going to go away, not for a good long time. Fuck, look how long it took me to get my shit together with Courtney. And God, my fucking ex. I say I’m done, but history has a way of repeating itself, old habits taking over…
Then there are my teammates who will get attached and interfere and give me shit I don’t need and…
It’s all wrong.
Faye’s all wrong for me.
But I know myself well enough to know I’m still going to claim her as my own, anyway.
Even if I’m wrong for her too.
“Come on,” I say, when she opens her mouth again, probably to apologize for no reason again.
I don’t have time to sit in my feelings right now. Faye needs me.
“Wh-what?”
