Page 63

It had been fucking awful.

I’d spent years making distance look effortless, which should’ve made me an expert at this. I’d walked away from people before they could want too much, ended relationships before attraction became dependence, and convinced myself being alone was infinitely preferable to watching someone lose themselves because of me.

Apparently none of that experience helped when the person walking away was Ash.

He’d barely looked at me all day, but whenever he did, there’d been nothing resembling relief in his expression. If he'd seemed happier every time I kept my distance, I could've told myself I’d misunderstood what had been happening between us. Vegas had been sex, and the thing I thought I’d seen every time Ash looked at me had existed mostly because I wanted it to.

Except Ash didn’t look relieved.

He looked fucking miserable, which would've been enormously satisfying if I hadn't been just as miserable myself.

I tossed my keys onto the passenger seat and looked toward the arena doors Ash had disappeared through a few minutes earlier with Dante. I’d told myself I wasn’t watching him leave, which was an impressive lie considering I was still standing beside my car staring at the place he’d vanished.

Two days ago, he’d been coming home with me.

He’d been curled against me on my couch, arguing about a baking show and making jokes about moving in. I’d gone to sleep thinking that for once in my life I might have managed not to fuck up something good before it had properly started.

Then his father had sent him a message, and now Ash wanted space.

I didn’t need a road map to see the connection. I simply had no idea what lay between those two points.

“Aren’t you going home?”

Keegan’s voice pulled my attention away from the doors.

He stood a few feet from my car with his hands buried in the pockets of his jacket. There was nothing particularly strange about him asking the question except Keegan looked distinctly uncomfortable and had apparently been standing there long enough to notice I’d made no attempt to actually get into my car.

“I was considering it.”

His gaze flicked briefly toward the arena doors before returning to me, but he wisely made no comment about what—or who—I’d really been considering.

That made me more suspicious.

“Steel, whatever you’re trying not to say, just say it. You look like you’re about to tell me somebody died.”

That got his attention. “Nobody died. I wanted to know if you’re busy tonight. Drake and I are having drinks at our place, and I thought you might come.”

I stared at him.

We’d played together for nearly three seasons, traveled together, eaten together, and spent more hours than I cared to count in locker rooms, planes, and hotel bars, but Keegan had never invited me for drinks while looking as though he’d rather be asking me for a kidney.

“Are you asking me on a date?”

His discomfort disappeared beneath familiar exasperation. “No, and Phoenix would probably help me bury you if I did.”

“That sounds considerably more like him.”

Normally, Keegan would've laughed. This time he didn’t, and whatever amusement I’d found in the situation disappeared with it.

“What’s going on?”

He hesitated just long enough to make my stomach tighten before admitting his uncle was going to be there.

For a second, the significance didn’t register.

Then it did.

“Ignatius?”