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“Of course.”

“But not about Mr. Powers.”

“Ryan. God.” I grab a pillow and hide behind it. “We were starting to get somewhere.”

“We weren’t.”

“Maybe not.” I hug the pillow to my chest. Look up at him. “I’ll prove I’m not drunk.” I bring my finger to my nose. Raise my right leg.

His fingers curl around my ankle as he pins my leg to the bed.

Fuck, this is so, so close to where we need to be.

Just slide these bottoms to my knees. Unzip those jeans. Forget about talking and show me what you’re feeling.

“You want me to go?” he asks.

I shake my head.

“Then tell me why you’re crying in my room.”

“I can’t stop picturing you together.”

“Leigh—”

“Not like that.” Okay, not just that. “You’re still in love with her. And I hate it. I hate that she gets any of your heart. I hate that you’re giving her the chance to hurt you again.”

“This was your idea.”

“Maybe it was a bad one.”

“You want to call it off?”

“No. Do you?”

“No.” He lies next to me. Looks up at the stucco ceiling.

“I’m not in love with her.”

“At all?”

“There’s a Penny shaped hole in my gut, yeah. But I don’t want to fill it with her.”

“But…” I swallow hard. “The way you looked at her. You… Are you sure?”

“No.”

“Oh.”

“I don’t have a fucking clue what it’s supposed to feel like, loving someone. Not anymore. Not after that.”

“After what?”

“The look in her eyes when I caught her.”

“Guilt?”

“No.” He lets out a heavy sigh. “Relief.”

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