As we finish our meal in pensive silence, it occurs to me, that I may have already.
CHAPTER 27
Artemis
Ishouldn’t have hit send.
The second my thumb tapped the screen, I knew it. A picture of my stupid artisanal latte—cinnamon sprinkled foam heart and all—with the caption: This is your fault.
It was his fault. Every time I see or smell cinnamon I think of him.
My text wasn’t flirty. Not sexy. Just… exposure disguised as banter, and I’m now turning into the kind of man who shouldn’t be allowed access to a phone before noon. Or ever. Ever is good.
Shit. It’s been six hours and Xavier still hasn’t responded. Six hours of me refreshing the chat like a man circling the drain. Six hours of playing the message back in my head, cringing harder each time. Six hours of replaying the way I left things. Him fucked, wrecked, covered in cum and me disappearing like the coward Ares accused me of being.
So, now I’m here, leaning against the brick wall outside a loud, over-cologned bar two blocks off campus because Ares texted earlier: “Martinez is out tonight. Murphy’s.” With a series of smiling faced emojis coupled with some winky facedemojis, an eggplant, water that looks like jizz, and a finger going toward fingers in okay sign like a cock in a hole.
Interfering bastard.
And yet, here I am. I tell myself I only came because I wanted to apologize, because it’s responsible to tie up loose ends, to eat humble pie when you’re wrong. Unlike my fucking father who has never said sorry a day in his life.
I tell myself I’m here because the merger has me stressed to my limits, and I need to ensure that our rival isn’t secretly planning to murder me in my sleep.
Lies. Every one of them.
I’m here, in Wisconsin, because I fucking miss him. Because I want to see if he still looks at me like I’m something he wants. Because the thought of him laughing with someone else has my ribs welded together so tight I can’t fucking breathe.
I slip inside. The bar is dim, warm, full of bodies and noise and that unmistakable smell of alcohol, but it’s not strong enough to drown out the punch of cinnamon still haunting me everywhere I go.
It takes less than a heartbeat to find him. My eyes go to him like they already knew where he’d be. Xavier. Laughing, loud, head-tipped-back like something genuinely delighted him. I want to be the one who puts that light in him. I hate that I’m not.
And next to him is a guy I’ve never seen before, leaning in close. Too fucking close. Shoulder brushing Xavier’s. His hand is on the edge of the bar right behind Xavier’s back, staking an invisible claim. He leans in with the practiced boldness of a man who’s used to landing his mark. Not this time, buddy.
The guy is attractive in the generic guy-next-door way of someone who spent their teen years being praised for it—sharp jaw, good hair, expensive-smile confidence. He’stalking animatedly. Xavier’s watching him. And he’s still fucking smiling.
Something primal roars awake in me. It’s not the clean heat of desire. It’s jagged, territorial, an instinct I didn’t know I had. I’ve read enough of Justin’s romance novels to have laughed out loud at the whole ‘there’s an animal in a cage in my chest and it roars, rattling the bars as it screamsmine.’ The idea is preposterous, ridiculous, borderline pathetic, even.
And I certainly don’t do jealousy. It’s inefficient. But this? This is a full-body, punch-in-the-gut realization that I want that smile aimed at me. I want that easy lean, that soft glow in his eyes when he’s entertained, his body that close to mine.
The guy taps Xavier’s arm again. That animal in my chest? It’s not just screaming ‘mine,’ it’s effervescent, like ownership is stitched into every cell in my body. The bars of the cage rattling in my chest are being pulled open by superhuman strength.
Oh, he’s definitely flirting. They both are.
I should walk over there. I came here to talk to him, to apologize, to do the mature thing, prove Ares wrong, prove I can be vulnerable and not combust.
Instead, I freeze.
Because as much as I want to be the reason Xavier laughs like that… some ugly, insecure part of me whispers that I can’t. That I don’t get to. That I burned that bridge when I fucked him stupid and fled like a coward. That I’m too busy to put the time in to make him that happy. That even if I tried, I’d somehow fuck up. That I’m too like my cheating, piece of shit father and couldn’t maintain a grownup relationship even if my life depended on it.
Xavier deserves someone who isn’t held together with pressure and deadlines. Someone who doesn’t keep score with their own heart. I take one step back. Then another. My throatis tight, and my palms are sweating like I’m a teenager again. I turn toward the exit. I shouldn’t be here.
The cold night air hits me when I step outside. It’s drizzling—the kind of soft rain that gets under your clothes and into your bones. How fitting?
I shove my hands in my pockets and start walking, head down, berating myself with every step. I’m halfway down the block when I hear it. “Artemis?”
I stop dead. Xavier is jogging after me, damp hair plastered to his forehead, breath visible in the chilly air. He’s not wearing a jacket. He must’ve run out the second he saw me leave. So much for being inconspicuous.
He doesn’t stop until he’s close enough that I can feel the heat rolling off him despite the cold. “What are you doing here?” His chest rises and falls, his eyes roaming my face.
