Chapter 13
THIRTEEN
tate
What the actual fuck?
I stalk toward the back of the restaurant, my hands clenched into fists at my sides, chest tight with rage.
This is Vegas all over again. Getting close to someone, letting my guard down, thinking maybe this time will be different. Then finding out I’m just another mark. Another easy target for someone who knows exactly which buttons to push.
The hallway leading to the bathrooms is empty, thank fuck.
I need a minute to get my shit together before I go back to my family and pretend everything’s fine.
Pretend I didn’t just watch the man I’ve been falling for have dinner with someone else like I don’t exist. Like what happened was just a figment of my imagination.
I slam through the door to the men’s room and grip the sides of the sink.
Who the fuck was Zane having dinner with?
I push away from the sink and pace the small space, fisting my hair.
“I’m surprised he didn’t climb into Zane’s lap, for fuck’s sake,” I mutter.
My blood burns when the image of Zane’s head bent close to his, the word ‘date’ flashing before my eyes.
Jesus Christ, when am I going to learn that the guy is a fucking liar? He played me in Vegas, played me during that one-on-one session. How many more times am I gonna bend over for him before I learn my lesson?
I slam a fist into the wall. Zane, looking relaxed and comfortable with another man in a way he’s never looked with me.
Sharing wine and intimate conversation while I was sitting with my family, thinking about this afternoon’s practice.
About how close we came to kissing. About how for forty minutes on that ice, I thought maybe. ..
Fucking idiot.
I splash cold water on my face and stare at my reflection. Same fucking story, different day. When am I gonna realize that guys like Zane don’t want guys like me? That whatever I thought was happening was just in my head?
The bathroom door opens behind me. I don’t bother looking up.
Then I catch a familiar scent. His scent.
“Tate.”
I turn around, and there he is, standing by the door like he’s guarding it, guilt etched into his expression.
“What the hell do you want?” I growl.
“I saw you leave your table. Thought we should talk.”
“Talk?” I let out a bitter laugh. “About what? Your cozy little date out there? Is he okay with you meeting another guy in the bathroom?”
“It’s not what you think.”
“Well, it looked like you were having a romantic dinner. Sharing wine, sweet fucking nothings, and plans about fucking him later.”
Zane flinches. “That’s not what was happening.”
“Then what was happening?” I step closer, my anger rising. “Because after what almost happened today, I gotta wonder.”
“You don’t understand... ”
“I think I understand perfectly. You get me all worked up during practice, make me think there’s something between us, then you run off to your boyfriend for dinner.”
“He’s not my boyfriend.”
“Right. Just some guy you have romantic dinners with. My mistake.”
The sarcasm drips from every word, but I don’t give a shit. I’m tired of being jerked around by a guy who thinks I’m too stupid to see what’s really happening.
“Tate, listen to me... ”
“No, you listen to me.” I back him against the wall, my hands hitting the tile on either side of his head. “I’m done with your bullshit. I’m done with you making me feel like an idiot for wanting something that clearly doesn’t exist.”
“It does exist,” he says in a quiet voice.
“Fuck you. If it existed, you wouldn’t be out there having dinner with some other guy.”
“It was just a business meeting.”
“Business meeting, my ass. The guy looked like he wanted to fuck you right at the table. Like you were gonna be his dessert.”
Zane’s jaw tightens. “You’re being ridiculous.”
“And you’ve been lying to me about everything. About Vegas, about why you’re here, about what you want.”
“I haven’t lied about what I want.”
“Then what do you want, Zane? Because I can’t figure it out.
One minute you’re looking at me like you want to devour me, the next you’re pulling away like I’ve got the plague.
Today you’re catching me on the ice like you can’t stand the thought of letting me fall, tonight you’re having dinner with another man. ”
Zane looks away and sweeps a hand through his hair. “It’s complicated.”
“Everything’s complicated with you. You know what’s not complicated? Being honest. Tell me if you’re seeing someone else. Tell me if this afternoon was just some kind of game to you.”
“It wasn’t.”
“Yeah, well I’m getting tired of trying to figure out what goes on in your head.”
Zane looks at me. “There are just…things about my life you don’t understand.”
“Then explain them to me.”
“I can’t.”
“Can’t or won’t?”
“Can’t.”
“That’s convenient. Can’t explain why you left Vegas. Can’t explain who that guy is. Can’t explain why you keep jerking me around.”
“I’m not jerking you around. I promise you that.”
“Your word means shit to me,” I say. “You can’t make me want you and then act like I don’t exist.”
“I’m trying to protect you.”
“From what?”
“From me.”
I stare at him, and the anger in my chest shifts into something colder. “You know what? Fuck this. Fuck you and your mysterious bullshit and your protection that I never asked for.”
I start to walk away, but his hand catches my arm. I let out a hiss of air at the sensation of warmth that seeps into my skin and snakes through my insides.
“Tate, wait.”
“Let go of me,” I say through clenched teeth.
“Not until you listen.”
“Listen to what? You haven’t told me shit! You wanna make more evasive excuses about why you can’t be honest with me?”
“I’m being as honest as I can.”
“That’s not enough.”
“It has to be,” he says.
“The fuck it does.”
“You’re right.”
The admission catches me off guard. “What?”
“You’re right. You deserve better than this. You deserve someone who can be honest with you, someone who doesn’t come with baggage that could destroy your career.”
“My career’s already in shambles, as you already know,” I seethe.
“That’s not what I mean.”
“Then what do you mean? Because I’m getting tired of trying to decode everything you say.”
Zane looks at me for a long moment. “I mean you should walk away from this. From me. Before it’s too late.”
“And if I don’t want to walk away?”
“Then you’re making a mistake.”
“Maybe. But it’s my mistake to make.”
“No, it’s not. Not when it could hurt people you care about.”
“People like who?”
“People like your family,” he says. “Your team. Everyone sitting at that table who loves you.”
The threat is subtle but real, and it makes my blood run cold. “Are you threatening them?”
“No. I’m telling you that getting involved with me puts them at risk.”
I stare at him, and the anger comes roaring back. “You know what? I’m done. I’m done with your cryptic warnings and your mysterious bullshit and your ‘I can’t tell you’ routine.”
I step closer, close enough that I can see the pulse beating against his throat. “You want to know what I think? I think you’re full of shit. I think you’re a coward who’s using some made-up drama to avoid dealing with what’s going on here.”
“It’s not made-up. Trust me.” His jaw twitches.
“Prove it.”
“I can’t.”
“Then shut up about it.” I grab his shirt and pull him closer. “Stop talking about danger and protection and all the reasons we can’t do this. Stop making excuses. If you’re not interested, just fucking say it.”
“That’s not—”
“No. I’m tired of talking. And I’m tired of being jerked around by someone who’s got better options.”
“What are you talking about?”
“I’m talking about the fact that you’re in here with me while your date’s sitting out there waiting for you. I’m talking about you making me feel like a jackass for thinking there was something between us.”
“There is.” His hand reaches for me, sliding down the front of my shirt.
“If there was, you wouldn’t be having dinners with other guys. You wouldn’t be telling me to walk away.”
“I’m telling you to walk away because... ”
“Because I’m not good enough? Because I’m just some confused kid you can mess around with when you’re bored?”
“That’s not what this is.”
“Then what is it? You want to have your cake and eat it too? Keep me interested while you fuck someone else?”
The words are barely out of my mouth when I lose all control, pull him close, and crush my lips against his. I hate myself for doing it but at the same time, I can’t stop myself. I need to know if there’s something on the other side of the kiss, if it really is all in my head.
The kiss isn’t sweet. It’s hard and angry and desperate. He moans against my mouth, his hands fisting in my hair as his tongue tangles with mine.
It’s two years of frustration and want and anger all exploding at once. He tastes like wine and lies and everything I’ve missed.
When we break apart, our breathing is heavy. His lips are swollen, his hair mussed, and he looks as shaken as I feel.
“Tell me that you didn’t feel that,” I say, my voice rough. “
“What I felt doesn’t matter.” He stares at me, something dark and desperate in his eyes. “You have no idea what you just did.”
“I kissed you. It’s not that complicated.”
“Everything about this is complicated.”
“Only because you make it that way.”
He reaches for me, but I step back.
“No. Don’t touch me unless you’re gonna be honest. Don’t kiss me unless you mean it. And don’t you dare look at me like you want me unless you’re gonna do something about it.”
He shakes his head. “I can’t.”
“Then we’re done here.”
I push past him and grab the door handle, but his voice stops me.
“You don’t understand what you’re asking.”
“I’m just asking for the truth. I’m asking for honesty. I’m asking for you to stop treating me like I can’t handle whatever’s really going on with you.”
“It’s not about weakness.”
I slowly turn, his pained look making my heart clench. “Then what’s it about?”
“It’s about me not being the kind of person you think I am.”
“What does that even mean?”
“It means you should walk away before you find out. I’m hoping you’re smart enough to realize this is a bad idea.”
“Right. More mysterious bullshit.” I twist the door handle and pull open the door. “When you’re ready to tell me what’s really going on, you know where to find me. Until then, stay the fuck away from me.”
I walk out without looking back, my heart pounding and my lips still tingling from his kiss.
Because whatever game he’s playing, whatever lies he’s telling, that kiss was real.