Page 67 of The End of Me


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She frowns. “Why would you say that?”

“You weren’t too happy to see me last night.”

She glares at me. “You mean when you were invading my roof?”

I whistle. “It’s going to be a nightly problem, isn’t it?”

“Only if you go upstairs when I’m using it.”

I wink at her. “You’ll get used to me.”

“Nope. We have to discuss roof time,” she argues.

“There’s a contract—”

“We should amend it.”

I tilt my head toward the fridge. “We can discuss this upstairs over a nice slice of pie and some wine.”

“You have wine?”

“No, but you have some on the roof.”

She gasps. “How do you know?”

“The realtor showed me all the amenities.”

“But it’s on the other side,” she squeaks.

And maybe it’s time to tell her something about me before I have to avoid her. “You’re going high-pitchy on me. I’m a SEAL and can get overwhelmed easily.”

“Hmm, like Grandpa Bradley,” she mumbles.

“Your grandfather was a SEAL?”

“No. He’s a retired Ranger.” She smiles, changing her tone. “Funny thing, he worked for a screechy musician after he retired. Yet, there are noises he’d rather avoid.”

Is she implying that I’m as old as her grandfather? “I’m not even forty.”

“What?”

“It sounds like you’re comparing me to him, and I’m not an old man.”

“I’m referring to the sensory stuff.” She shrugs, her lips purse in a half-smile. “You could be my father though.”

I glare at her, and she laughs, a shimmering sound that makes my heart skip a beat. “Sorry, I’m kidding.”

Something about her laugh makes me feel warm. As if I’m wrapped in a warm embrace or a welcome home. But in an instant, my contentment dissipates when I realize the truth. She’s too young for me.

Too young.

Why do I always seem to be drawn to those beyond my reach?

Why do I always set myself up for heartache and disappointment?

ChapterThirty-One

Ladybug,

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