Page 114 of Over the Line

He talks over me. “I would give anything to fight with her over curtains. I would give anything to have her there trying to comfort me after a shit day or a phone call with an annoying ass relative, to have to clean her hair out of the goddamned drain.” His chin drops to his chest. “I would give any-fucking-thingto hold her, talk with her, hug her. Give anything to just have one more moment with her.”

My throat goes tight. “Mack,” I rasp.

He releases me, obviously seeing that his words struck home.

And they have. Deeply.

Because…Steve’s tiny teeth in my ankle.

Nova’s honey rosemary mules.

The soft way she looks at me.

The beauty of her photographs.

The butterfly charm and the pain in her eyes when she told me about her childhood.

Her wanting to leave,soscared to stay…and yet taking a chance that morning in my kitchen.

And meanwhile…

“I fucked up,” I whisper.

Jer starts dealing the next hand. “Of course you did, you idiot.”

“That’s not what’s important,” Mack says, words still pained.

“What is?” I ask, pushing the question through my tight throat.

He glares at me. “How you’re going to fix it so she doesn’t leave your dumb ass.”

Then he’s true to his word—none of them talk about women or Nova or me being an idiot as we continue the game.

But I don’t think I would have heard them if they had.

Because Iama fucking idiot.

And I have no clue how to fix it.

Forty-Three

Nova

I tossthe blankets back when the sun starts peeking in through the window, and exhale deeply.

The treetops are lined with glittering snow.

There’s a sliver of blue in the sky.

It’s…time to go.

My stomach twists, but…

There’s nothing else to be said.

Last night was enough.

And it’s not like Lake crawled into bed with me, apologized, and fucked my brains out. Far as I can tell, he didn’t come home at all.

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