It was like he thought by claiming Ramsey was less of a man for taking off, he’d see red and word vomit up everything.
Ha.
Ramsey was made of much sterner stuff than that. He’d been called a cocksucker, a girl, apretty princess,and far, far worse, by dudes a lot bigger and meaner than Nate Bishop for a lot longer.
He’d been formed in a blast furnace, and Nate tossing little grenades at him didn’t even dent his shell.
“Maybe I thought after all my graciousness, I deserved a slightly better lie thanI work at Tim Horton’s.”
“Yeah, a real fucking gentleman,” Nate complained. He downed the rest of his drink. “I don’t even know why you’re here. You made your feelings clear before.”
There was thatFword again.
It wasn’t like Ramsey didn’t have feelings. Everyone had feelings. They were an unavoidable symptom of being human. But Ramsey’s feelings weren’t for anyone else buthim.He didn’t share them, ever, and he couldn’t see that changing.
“Maybe I wanted to make sure you wouldn’t have a few more of those and blurt out the whole pathetic story to anyone.” Ramsey gestured at the glass in Nate’s hand.
He didn’t know why he was being so combative when he’d theoretically come over here to smooth things over. To make nice in a way that only he could.
“Why do you even care if I do?” Nate asked.
The disdain in Nate’s eyes burned. Make him wish for things that weren’t ever going to happen, and that annoyed Ramsey.
“I don’t,” Ramsey said shortly. “I was only embarrassed for you. Getting a guy like me and then bungling it.”
He wasfinewith his life the way it was. He didn’t need anyone else interfering in it. Wes was plenty. He had Brody still, even if Brody felt further away from him than ever, preoccupied by medical school and his big, dumb NFL player boyfriend.
He’dhadhockey. He’d have hockey again. He had other interests and diversions. The last thing he needed—or wanted—was this even bigger, even dumber football player who thought he knew Ramsey better than he knew himself.
He wasnotBrody.
A sick pair of biceps and wet dream abs weren’t going to be enough to sway Ramsey.
“Please,” Nate retorted. “I wasthere. I didn’t bungle shit. You were . . .you were on board. Not exactly demanding to leave after I fucked you.”
Ramsey clamped his lips together. That was the worst of it. Ramsey could talk a big game. Could talk around Nate the way he talked around everyone else he’d ever met, but he couldn’t magically insert himself into Nate’s brain and make him forget certain things about that night.
Like how into it Ramsey had been. How he’d let Nate romance him a little, and hadn’t tried to stop him even once. How he’d notbeen in a hurry to leave either. How he might have stayed the night, even, if Nate had never turned the kitchen light on.
Nate knew all those things, and no amount of pretending, no amount of posturing, no amount of maneuvering, was going to change his opinion.
“You’re sticking around Toronto, right?” Nate asked then, before Ramsey could land on a strategy that might work. Magic was unfortunately out. The last two Etsy witches he’d tried out hadn’t panned out. He hadn’t been particularly hopeful they would, but it was never a bad idea to have a ringer in your pocket.
“Why does it matter?” Ramsey asked. He wasn’t bitter. Bitter people had exposed weaknesses, and Ramsey’s weren’t, because he wouldn’t let them.
“’Cause Wes is gonna keep bringing you around.”
Ramsey wanted to declare that he wouldn’t be, not if Ramsey had anything to say about it. Not if Nate was going to be anywhere in the vicinity.
But to avoid Nate, he was going to have to tell Wes he didn’t like him. And Wes wasn’t going to believe that was true, unless Ramsey decided to confess the whole truth.
And hereallydidn’t want to do that. Imagining Wes’ aggrieved expression was bad enough, but then he’d want to interfere. He’d want Ramsey to get some mythical happily-ever-after ending, even if his had gone to shit.Especiallybecause his had gone to shit.
“Yes,” Ramsey conceded. “Wes probably will want to.”
“And you’re not going to tell him no.”
“Probably not,” Ramsey said between gritted teeth. He didn’t like how this guy kept seeing right through him. How had he taken a look at him and Wes and then spent an hour in their presence and figured out Ramsey’s soft spot? It wasn’t okay, and it definitely wasn’t fair.
