Page 115 of Over the Line


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Certainly, he didn’t sleep next to me.

And not in front of the fireplace either I find when I make my way into the family room.

That’s enough of a message.

Not only does he think I’m just like every other woman who’s used him, he also wants me gone.

Well…thatI can do.

I move to the coffee pot, flick the switch, starting it up, then glance at my bags on the counter. At least I don’t have much to pack up.

Just my whole life…that fits into a few bags.

“Pathetic,” I whisper, turning away, reaching for a mug—

Freezing.

Because there’s a pad on the counter, and it’s filled with equal parts masculine scrawl and crossed-out words.

“What—” I whisper.

But then my brain actually begins to process the words there.

Dear Nova,

I let my past affect the way I treated you—

Dear Nova,

I don’t want you to leave. My mom makes my brain stop working—

Dear Nova,

I’ve never dated a woman like you. I shouldn’t have said—

Dear Nova,

I was an asshole. Please give me another chance.

-Lake

“I’m not done with it.”

That soft statement has me looking up over my shoulder…into Lake’s beautiful—and remorseful—gold and green and brown eyes.

“It seems like you covered it all,” I say lightly, pushing the pad away.

He moves toward me in a rush, and I shrink back, the wounds from his sharp words the night before barely healed.

Head up. Move forward.

This is all fine.

“I didn’t,” he says. “I have plans for serious groveling and—”

“Right,” I whisper, heart pounding as I turn my back on him, as I fill my mug with freshly brewed coffee.

When I rotate around again, intending to go to the fridge for cream, he’s already there, reaching inside and pulling out the carton, carrying it over to me, setting it on the counter next to the steaming mug. A second later, the canister of sugar settles beside it.

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