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When I look at Josie, she’s looking anywhere but at me. Doubt settles in around me. Is this something we can work through?

“We’ll deal with that later,” Bryce decides. “Right now, you have a team to meet and practice to observe. Let’s get set up.”

With a sigh, I go to follow him but am stopped by Josie’s hand squeezing my arm. “I’m happy you’re here, Ronan.”

I offer her a quick hug. I stop briefly to introduce myself to Katrina, who seems a little on edge around me, too. There’s nothing rude about our interaction, but I’m not sure she’s as happy to haveme here as Josie. Before I have the chance to do anything to break the ice, Bryce is calling my name. I excuse myself and head out to the deck.

When I accepted the job, I told Bryce and Carter they’d have me for at least two years. Now, though, I’m wondering if I’ll even make it two days.

I hate him. I hate his stupid, dark hair, and his grin. I hate the stubble he’s let grow; it makes him look older and more mature. I hate the way he can still stand before me with all the confidence in the world and pretend he doesn’t know how big of an asshole he is.

I’ve never hated someone more than I hate this man.

“You really rolled out the welcome mat back there.”

I don’t even startle at Josie’s voice from behind me. It honestly took her longer than I thought it would to get back up to the offices and confront me about what happened. “He got what he deserved.”

She moves further into the room, but I stay focused on the computer screen in front of me. “I’m not really in a position to judge that. You’ve never told me what happened between you.”

“You don’t need to know everything, Josie.”

“I’d like to know when someone does something to hurt my best friend,” she counters.

“And I’d like to keep things that could hurt my best friend away from her.” Over the years, we’ve gotten good at this weird banter, where we actively avoid topics while still giving each other enough information in the hope the other will back off. “Just let me handle this.”

“You haven’t handled it, Mia.”

They say the truth hurts, but it hurts more when it comes from your best friend.

I turn to look at her. She’s sitting in her own desk chair, but she’s watching me. “Josie, I need you to trust me on this one. I have handled it. This isn’t something I can move on from and pretend everything is good. Whatever friendship Ronan and I had is gone, and it’s not coming back. You know me. You know I wouldn’t cut someone off like this unless it was absolutely necessary.”

Her shoulders slump in defeat. “Yeah, you’re right. I just…I always thought the two of you were into each other.”

The laugh comes out sharply. “Trust me, nothing about me is something Ronan O’Brien wants unless it’s just for sex.”

“Do you really think he’s still like that?”

I consider the question for a second. There had been a time in my life when I didn’t think he was like that at all. That his whole reputation was nothing more than a mask for him to wear. Then his reputation—his truth—hit me in the face. “People can say they change—they can even show actions to support it, but who we are at our core is a lot harder to change.”

Her frown deepens. “So that’s a yes?”

“I don’t know the man, Josie,” I reply with a shrug. “I’m not sure I ever really did.”

Sighing, she reaches for her mouse and wakes her computer up. I take that as a sign to turn back to my work. “I really wanted him to be different.”

God, I thought to myself,me too.

Ronan O’Brien iseverywhere.

I go to the gym to get in a quick workout before any of the swimmers get there, and he’s already there. Lifting weights or doing yoga. Which is crazy because when the hell did Ronan start doing yoga? I remember him makingfunof yoga, and insisting the intense stretching routine his coach had him doing wasn’t that.

I leave the pool in the evening, and he’s finishing up whatever he had going on for the day. There’s no escaping him, especially now that he’s settling into the seat across from me at my favorite local café.

I glare at him over the top of my laptop, but he shrugs. “There aren’t any other seats. What do you expect me to do?”

I don’t need to look around to know he’s telling the truth; the café was already packed when I arrived, and it’s gotten worse since students were released from classes. “Take it to go.”

Those are the first words I’ve said to him in nearly a week. Every time we’ve bumped into one another, he’s tried to start a conversation with me, but I haven’t let him. I’ve walked away or ignored him. That’s going to be harder to do now. Especially because he knows I won’t back down. I’m not going to be the one to get up and leave. I was here first, and he’s encroaching on my territory.