Page 52 of Ruled Out

She sets her phone down on the counter, the screen lit up with an address. When she leans toward me slightly, I catch a hint of coconut. “Like I said, I don’t need the details, but I do know the owners of large NHL teams, thanks to a hockey-mad husband.” She nods her head at my paycheck envelope on the side, which hasMia Jenkinsscrawled across the front. “I might be reaching here, but would I be wrong to hazard a guess that Graham Jenkins is your father?”

I nod once.

She smiles and taps the screen on her phone with her pointer finger. “This is Jessie’s address.”

I pick up a pen and scrawl the address on a piece of scrap paper. “You don’t miss anything.”

“Lawyer, babe. It’s my job to notice things.”

I set the pen down and smile at her. “Kate didn’t tell you who my dad was? I guess she knows too.”

She picks up the flowers and hugs them to her chest with one arm, adjusting her emerald scarf with the other hand. “No, shedidn’t. She only mentioned you when I accused her of eating all my ice cream. There are some things Kate won’t go down for.”

I bark out a laugh and then wince. “Yeah, that was me. Sorry.”

Felicity chuckles and then offers me a warm smile, pulling up the hood on her coat and getting ready to leave. “I won’t hold ice cream against any girl.” She pauses. “Go see him.” Felicity turns to leave, but then stops.

She sets the flowers on the counter between us, and then picks up the pen, quickly scribbling a number next to the address. “This is my contact. If you ever need anything, you know where I am.”

The rain beatsagainst my umbrella as I stand at the entrance to Jessie’s apartment building.

What am I doing? If he wanted to see me, he would’ve replied. He didn’t have a problem texting his friends.

My doubts aren’t enough to stop me though as I walk into the building with a drenched bouquet of flowers being squashed under my arm as I shove my umbrella into its holder.

“Can I help you, ma’am?” the doorman asks me as I continue to frustratingly fight with the umbrella.

“Huh?” I look up at him, my slightly damp, dark hair stuck to my face. I stand straight and smile at him. “Yeah, I, um, have a delivery of flowers for Mr. Callaghan.” I point at the small card with Jessie’s address across the front.

A crease forms between his brow. “I haven’t seen Mr. Callaghan in a couple of days. He might be out of town. But let me try his number.”

My eyes flare wide. “Oh, um … I mean, it’s a surprise delivery. He isn’t expecting them.”

He smiles at me empathetically and walks across to the desk. When he lifts the phone, I watch as he waits a few seconds before speaking and then nodding once.

“Mr. Callaghan says you can bring them right up,” the doorman says, walking back over to me. “He’s in apartment number three twenty-nine on the third floor.”

My stomach twists as I ride the elevator to Jessie’s floor. There’s every chance he knows it’s me coming to check on him, pushing him to see me when he doesn’t want to. But I keep walking anyway, my body refusing to listen to the doubts swirling in my mind.

I get halfway down the hallway when his door number comes into view, and I stop. I could just knock and leave the flowers by the door and then hightail it out of here.

I turn on my heel.Or I could just leave altogether.

“Mia?”

Slowly spinning back around, I see Jessie standing in his apartment doorway. His hands are tucked in the pockets of his gray sweatpants, and his fitted black shirt clings to his ripped torso.

Awkwardly, I raise the flowers. “Just delivering these. I heard you were sick.”

He smiles, but not his usual easy smile whenever he sees me. He’s trying his best, but I can see the pain he’s in.

As I walk toward him, he looks more like he did that day in the library—pale, washed out. Full of anguish.

“You don’t look well.”

He rests his head on the doorframe. “Want to come in?”

“Sure.”