Chapter Fifteen
Flynn
For someone like me who thrives on control, the last week has been a whirlwind scaring the shit out of me. Oli and Myles are away. My brother checks in every once in a while, but I haven’t heard anything from Myles. We enjoyed a day out together and then he left. I know given our history my expectations should remain low. I just feel like I made a real effort to get along with him on our day trip. He seemed sincere, and the camaraderie we once shared with each other was there like an old, comfortable blanket. That’s why him silencing me is strange. Or maybe it isn’t. I don’t know.
I bury myself in work. It’s my only predictable reprieve. I’ve met with Sloane for coffee a few times. We’ve managed to dissect my relationship with Matt, since I refuse to admit how much having Myles back in my life has affected me. The consensus we’ve reached is that I’m more wounded about Matt cheating than the end of our relationship.
I’m at my cubicle working on a case when Oli sends me a text.
I laugh at that one. Clearly my brother doesn’t realize that I have a life.
His question throws me off a little.
Sloane’s name pops up.
I laugh again. They almost seem like my mother and father.
Almost.
I chuckle. The four-date rule. I can’t remember the last time Sloane made it to a date number four.
I can almost hear the whine when she types those words.
I wait while she continues to type. There’s always an exception with Sloane. No one ever seems exactly right for her.
I sense fear in her words.
The bubbles are running on my phone again.
I leave the office by six, so I have time for a quick shower before Oli gets home. I wonder where he wants to go that he asked me to dress warm. I also wonder if Myles will be joining us, although I don’t think that will be the case since he hasn’t been in touch, but who knows. I straighten my hair with the blow dryer.
I pull out a pair of dark blue skinny jeans and a baby-blue turtleneck.
As I’m leaving the bedroom and walking down the hall to the main area of the apartment, I hear a key wiggling in the latch. A moment later, my brother comes through the door. He looks tired or maybe like he just woke up.
“Hey, Flynn…” He drops his large duffle bag on the floor and stalks over to the fridge. “I’m starving. Let me just grab a bite to eat and a shower, then we can head out.”
“Oh, okay. I thought we might be grabbing dinner, so I didn’t eat. All you said was to dress warm. Where are we going?”
He doesn’t answer me right away as he opens the fridge and takes out three black containers. My stomach dips. Is Myles coming over?
“You good with grilled salmon?” he asks me. “Antonella makes this crazy good pineapple salsa to go with it.”
“Sure, yeah…” I agree and lean my hip on the counter. “Are we having company for dinner?” I ask because he pops three meals in the microwave.
His brows furrow. “Huh?”
“Three meals.”
“Oh,” he laughs. “I’m fucking starving. One won’t cut it now.”
I let out the breath I must have been holding. “Where are we going tonight?”
“I’ve noticed you’re on autopilot. You don’t smile, you don’t look like your enjoying life. You know how I feel about life and not taking our time on earth for granted,” he says, and his face turns solemn. It’s a small reference to my parents, who were taken from us without any warning.
“Oli…I…” I don’t know what to say.
“Let’s just hang out, ’kay?” I don’t argue. He has a point. I’ve been floating through my life these past few weeks like a ghost, and truth is, I’m not happy. Even Myles called me on it the day we went out, and he was right.
I nod my head and smile at my brother. “I’ve missed you, Oliver Russell.” I grin.
“Missed you, too, Flynny,” he answers, and we continue to eat our dinner quietly, but my insides feel good knowing I have my brother watching out for me.
The front door swings open, and Myles saunters in. He flinches when he sees me. “Shit, Tink, didn’t think you’d be home.” I don’t know why, but his comment rubs me the wrong way. We spent the day together, had an intimate conversation, and then nothing. Now he flinches when he sees me. I don’t know what to make of his odd behavior. He makes a straight line for Oli’s fridge, sticking his head inside.
Oli scarfs down his two meals while Myles stands in front of the fridge looking at the food. His behavior seems off. “Going to shower, then we can leave,” Oli says, barely acknowledging Myles.
It’s weird that Myles barely addressed me when he walked in. No “hey, how are you?” When my brother is out of ear shot I call him on it. “So, you came in here thinking I wouldn’t be here?” I remind myself that he isn’t a guy I’m trying to date. He’s my ex-best-friend, and I’ve always called him out on things. Okay, maybe I shouldn’t have checked his Twitter feed the other night in my moment of weakness. I didn’t like what I saw. There was a pic of Myles with a girl hanging on each of his shoulders—one of them was pressing a kiss to his cheek. I want to say I don’t have feelings for Myles, but then why would I be jealous from his social media feed? He makes my head spin.
I read more posts about how good he is in bed.
The next morning one of the girls from the pics posted: He shoots, I score. I think I vomited in my mouth a little.
“I only have a maid once a week. And she hasn’t been to my place yet to fill my fridge. Your brother always has his fridge stocked. It’s a sure thing.” He smiles and takes a bunch of ingredients out of the fridge. He gets to work making himself a sandwich. He doesn’t notice the tension radiating off me.
He completely ignored my question. He came here thinking I wouldn’t be here. Only a week ago he had his tongue down my throat and then claimed he needs me in his life. That he missed me. His nonchalance right now makes it seem like he didn’t mean what he said. Myles the man isn’t like Myles the boy, who was thoughtful, caring, and attentive. Myles the man seems like a fickle douchebag. Now I’m pissed off that I had a moment of weakness and kissed him outside the club. He stands in Oli’s kitchen making himself a tall turkey sandwich piled high with many leaves of lettuce.
I narrow my eyes at him. “You’re gross.” Which I think he really is. If he’s sleeping with all those girls, then I really don’t want to have anything to do with him. He takes a large bite of his sandwich. His hockey-whore lifestyle solidifies my “I never want to be with Myles again” agenda. Another point for my negative list. Good.
He drops his sandwich on his plate and just watches me, his jaw taut, his gaze intense. I don’t know what any of it means. The air between us grows thick as he stalks toward me. I don’t know what to expect when he catches my chin and brushes my jawline with the pad of his thumb, tilting my head upward so we’re now eye-to-eye.
“You didn’t think I was gross when I had my tongue in your mouth.”
His closeness makes my body tingle. That kiss was knee-weakening. I get my wits back. “A momentary lapse of judgement. It won’t happen again,” I say, then pull away and make my way to the family room.
Myles follows me to the couch.
He looks me over and says, “Nice.”
I snap, “Asshole.” I don’t understand him. On our day out, he was a complete gentleman.
Now he’s in some sort of hockey jock douchebag mode. He tosses his head back and laughs. He places his plate on the coffee table, and his features grow serious. With his face close to mine he says, “I’ve always loved how feisty you are, Tink.”
I narrow my eyes, unsure what his angle is. Where is the sweet guy from the other day?
With his body pressed to mine, his heat radiates off him. The pad of his thumb grazes my jawline again. A tingling sensation pools in my stomach.
“You confuse me. You’ve always messed with my head. I just don’t know how to handle this…” He waves between us. “Us.”
“There is no us,” I remind him. “We’re living next door to each other, so I’d thought I would make an effort and get to know you again. I’m not sure I like what I see.”
A soft growl escapes his mouth. He leans even closer, so his lips are at my ear. Myles the boy was never this confident and self-assured, but I guess he’s had more than enough practice with the ladies.
He clearly doesn’t know what personal space means. Heat swirls between my legs, and I fantasize about him pushing me onto my back and kissing the hell out of me. His breath is hot against my face. His strong body is so close I want to wrap my arms around his neck and pull him into me. Only, his behavior doesn’t make sense. I shove him off me, and he pulls back. A look of shock crosses his features.
Yes, Mr. Hot Hockey Player, that is what rejection looks like.
“Stop this, please,” I plead, my tone filled with anger—which is really a cover for how turned on I am. I realize I’ve raised my voice, so I lower it. A sad laugh escapes me. “I saw pics of you this past week with girls hanging on both sides of you,” I say, knowing I’m admitting to stalking him, but right now I’m so mad and riled up I couldn’t care less. “He shoots, I score,” I say even louder, hoping my brother is still in the shower. “Does that sound familiar?”
His eyes turn wide. “Flynn, I didn’t sleep with those girls. They’re puck bunnies. They hang all over us. The highlight of their evening is a photo op with me. I haven’t slept with anyone since Oli told me you were moving to town.”
I hiss. His words feel like a slap on one hand and a warm caress on the other. The last time I saw Myles seven years ago, he admitted he had feelings for me. We kissed. I was eighteen years old. I never saw him again. He’s messing with my head, and I can’t allow it. I need air. I need to get out of here. I can’t be near him.
“Please leave.” I pull away and wrap my arms around myself. He doesn’t leave, so I grab the remote control from the coffee table and turn the TV on.
“Look at me,” he says quietly. I’m so overwhelmed by his mixed signals my adrenaline spikes. I need to flee. I need to save my heart.
“This is not how a friend behaves. What’s wrong with you?” Myles waits like he’s expecting me to change my mind about him. I can’t. I find a sitcom on TV, only I can’t focus on anything the actors are saying. He sits beside me and eats his sandwich. When he’s done, he stands up.
“You’re going to have to realize I was a boy back then. I had fears, Flynn. Fears that I want to share with you. Now, I’m a man. I’m fearless because the only thing I have to lose is you, and I’ve lost you once already.” I hold my breath as his words penetrate. “Don’t expect me to give up so easily. You’ve seen firsthand how determined I can be.” His eyes gleam. I want to melt into the couch.
“But you never even texted me when you were gone. It was radio silence.”
He shrugs. “I didn’t want you to think I was pushy. If you had texted me, I would have texted back.”
Well, he had me there.
“I’m playing to win. Don’t you forget that.” He points his finger at me then leaves.
I sigh and grab one of the throw pillows on the couch, hugging it tight. My mind is so messed up right now, pulling me from the pain of the past into a present with high stakes for my shattered heart. The loss of control in my life makes me feel jittery. I don’t even get to finish the half hour sitcom because Oli saunters out of his room in a hooded sweatshirt that says “Blackhawks” and a worn-in pair of jeans. He also has his ice skates hanging off his shoulder.
“Do you need to go in for a practice?” I ask, a little confused.
“Nah, we’re going skating. Saw you put your gear in the closet up front. Figured it would be fun to go over to the McCormick rink. It’s really nice there at night.”
“Haven’t been on those skates since I was fifteen.”
“Doesn’t matter. Besides, skating is like riding a bike—you never forget how.”
“There’s that, and there’s the fact I used to be a fearless tomboy. Now, I don’t want to crack a nail.”
Oli shakes his head at me and laughs. “Go get your skates.”
I dress for the cool weather, and we head out. It feels good to be around Oli. He’s been the one constant in my life. It would also help if my twin intuition wasn’t nagging at me, telling me there is more to this outing than meets the eye.