“I didn’t come over here for a trip down memory lane,” I said, trying to keep it neutral.
“Yeah, well, memory lane has better lighting than whatever brooding cave you’ve been living in.”
I turned to face her. Same glossy hair. Same sharp stare. Even her suit, a single piece sheath, fit her like blue-scaled armor. Different vibe. She didn’t look like she wanted me back—just wanted topoke the wound.
“Don’t,” I said quietly.
“Don’t what? Remind you that you used to smile? That you didn’t always look like you were two seconds from decking someone?”
“I’m not in the mood.”
“You haven’t been in the mood since May.” Her voice dropped, and suddenly there was no bite—just truth. “You were better when she was around. Frankie… you were softer. Kinder.”
“That was before—” I stopped. Shook my head. “Doesn’t matter.”
“Before the French guy?” she asked, her smile turned sharp like a blade. “Before she picked someone else?”
I didn’t answer.
She reached out, brushed a hand down my arm. Not flirty—almostsad.
“She’s not trying to hurt you, Jake.” Those were the very last words I’d ever expected to hear from her. “Frankie has never tried to hurt anyone.”
No, that was all me. “I am not talking to you about her.”
“You never did,” she murmured, head tilted as she gave me this long assessing stare. “But I always knew. Always knewwhere I fell in the line of things. Second best.” A half-snort of laughter. “Didn’t care so much when it came to sex, at least then you were focused on me.”
I fought to keep my expression neutral. “What do you want?”
“It would be easy for me to hate her.” She raised her eyebrows as if daring me to deny it. “So easy to, especially if I let myself wonder how many times you pictured it was her you were drilling when it was me.”
The barb landed. I didn’t think I had, but at the moment…Fuck.
“That wasn’t her fault then or now.” No, Maria was right. It was mine. “Her dating someone else isn’t a fault either. You’re acting like she stabbed you in the chest.”
“Feels like it.” It rankled. It rankled because she’d let him touch her. Let him take what should have been…
Maria nodded. “Then maybe stop standing still and bleeding. Do something about it.”
Then, just like Coop, she walked off before I could say anything else.
I stared at the can in my hand. I hadn’t even cracked it open.
Footsteps behind me, a whisper of sound over the music.
Then a voice.
“She’s here.”
Bubba.
Just that. Two words. No fanfare. No prep.
My pulse spiked anyway.
I turned, slow, like maybe if I took long enough it wouldn’t hit as hard.
But there she was.
