Page 60 of Ruled Out

“No.” She shakes her head. “No, these are happy tears.” Pulling away from me, she wipes under her eyes. “Just … why now? I came here, expecting to deliver some flowers to a guy who didn’t really want to talk to me, and now, all this.”

I cock my head to the side and study her. “I really did a shit job of showing you how I felt back then, didn’t I?”

She blows out another sob.

“I fell for you years ago, Mia. Do you know how unnatural it’s been for me to hold back from you? Then you walk into my apartment and do something no one has ever done.”

“What’s that?”

Squeezing my eyes shut, I force back tears. “You saw me, my scars, my bruises. You didn’t freak out or want to run away, just like you’ve never judged me for drinking to numb my pain. That night, back in the dorm, when I told you why I turned to alcohol, there was nothing but understanding in your beautiful eyes. It might take me a while to get there, but I know you’re the only one I want to show myself to. And when you find someone like that, you never let them go.”

Mia presses a kiss against my lips. I’m almost sure the food is cold by now. Not that I give a fuck.

“But you don’t want me to be a part of your whole life, the part back in Dallas.”

“Mia, my dad is an abuser and a really bad man. In a different state is the closest he will ever get to you—I’ll make sure of it. But the demons from my childhood live on inside me—I know they do. Keeping myself straight and not drinking is the only doubt I have about us because if I head down a pathway similar to my mom, I’ll break your heart, even if I never mean to. That’s what I’m protecting you from. I’ll show you my bruises, and I’llanswer the questions you have, I promise. But that doesn’t mean I have all the answers to everything.”

I point at myself and look at her. “There’s only one circumstance where I’ll walk away from you: if I’m going down, there’s no way I’m dragging you with me.”

MIA

Wearing an oversized T-shirt and with a cold grilled cheese in hand, I crawl into Jessie’s bed.

I’m still trying to process everything he said to me in the kitchen, but right now, the high I’m riding on is blocking out my ability to form coherent thoughts.

Does Jessie Callaghan love me? Has he always loved me?

He didn’t say the words, but I know he wants me, and I have to give us a shot. My euphoria is so intense that even my nineteen-year-old self is kicking her giddy feet, pushing back memories of heartbreak.

He climbs in beside me and takes my plate while I make myself comfortable under his arm. “Comfy now?”

I wriggle a bit more for effect and take the plate back, instantly taking a bite out of the grilled cheese. My mouth waters. This is seriously good. “Even cold, this is the best I’ve had.”

Jessie flicks on the TV mounted on the wall in front of his bed and begins scrolling through options.

“Your choice tonight,” I say, taking another huge bite of the grilled cheese.

Selecting one of my all-time favorite shows,Dexter, he settles back behind me and starts eating his food too.

“I’m sorry if I get crumbs in your bed.” I wince, brushing off a few that already stand out against the dark gray comforter he has.

Jessie shrugs. “It’s fine. I can change the sheets tomorrow.”

“You don’t have a housekeeper to do that?”

“Nope.” He takes my empty plate and sets it on the floor with his. Adjusting himself to look at me, he bites down on his lip, almost like he’s working himself up to say something. “I don’t own this apartment. The team paid for it as part of the contract I signed. Even though I was forced out of Dallas, the Scorpions wanted me bad, so my agent negotiated in a housing arrangement for however long I’m on the team. I earn well, yeah, but I get taxed a huge amount, which swallows a large chunk of my take-home pay.”

“So, your wages are only in the lower hundreds of thousands per month,” I jibe. “I know how much you were earning in your first year at the Destroyers, baby.” I pat his cheek mockingly. “You must be rolling in it now.”

Jessie kicks his feet out in front of him. “I send a ton home every week.”

“To your parents?”

He nods slowly. “I know it ends up in casinos, liquor stores, and the pockets of hookers since my dad can’t keep it in his pants. But I can’t leave my mom without food. Every last cent I send, my dad steals, even from the bank account I set up for her a while back. So, I send more. I know it’s not a solution, but the guilt of not helping her when I earn big eats away at me.”

“H-how much do you send, Jessie?”

He pinches the bridge of his nose and whispers, “It’s been twenty thousand a week for the past six months.”