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“You’ll see. Ryan and I grab food there quite a bit. They’ve got some of the best food around.”
Even there, that felt right, finding out where he liked to eat.
It was information that I didn’t know from last year.
A new wave of sadness rolled through me.
“You want to talk?”
I shook my head, resting my head back against the seat and looking at him. “Would you think less of me if I said no? There’s a lot of heavy shit that went down today. Unless you want to? If you want to talk about how you’re feeling, I’m here. Whenever.”
We were at a stoplight so he gazed at me longer than normal. Studying me. “No. We don’t have to talk.”
I let out a sigh. “There’s things I need to tell you, things you need to be prepared for—”
“Maren,” he said softly.
“What?”
“I already know.”
I frowned. “About the article?”
He nodded. “Mac called Ryan when you were heading to see Rispins. They had a full conversation about it, about what else she was going to have Troy put in the article.”
“So you already knew?” My tongue felt so heavy. “About Mackenzie?”
“Yeah.” We started forward again, the light changing, but he glanced back again. “I got the rundown when Coach called us in. He wanted to know everything that was going on.”
I was trying to remember when Mac would’ve had time to call Ryan, but she had stepped outside when we were finishing up at Troy’s house.
“What’d your coach say?”
“He was pissed, and he’s going to make some calls, see if there’s something legally the team can do to keep Rispins away, though it sounds like she might not be a problem anymore.”
I frowned before whispering, looking away, “I hope so.”
Then the article would be worth it.
What I went through would be worth it.
What Mackenzie divulged would be worth it.
“Hey,” I murmured as we parked on a side street.
“Yeah?”
“Could we not—would it be okay if we didn’t have any heavy talks tonight?”
Cris looked at me, long and intensely again, before a tenderness came over him. “Yeah. How about you just let me take care of you tonight?”
My throat swelled up, because God, he used to say that to me when we were hooking up. It was a joke between us, who’d take care of the other, and the joke was that it was a moot point. Cris took care of me. I took care of him. And then we’d take care of each other together all over again. But with him using those words, remembering, I felt some tears wanting to come to my eyes. I blinked them away, smiled, and said, “I’d really love that.”
His eyes turned molten, and his voice dropped. “Good. Now, come on.” He motioned with his head to a food truck.
As we got out, he took my hand, pulled me to his side, and dropped an arm around my shoulder. “See this place? It’s the best chicken tacos in the area. You’re going to never want chicken tacos anywhere else again.”
My mouth was salivating, but it wasn’t for the food. I was starving to have more of these experiences with Cris, to see him interact with the guys who owned the food truck, seeing how they knew him, seeing how they loved him. I wanted more of it. I wanted to catch up on all the memories I should’ve already known.
