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M ILES

When Rowan texted the other day asking me to meet her for dinner, I nearly passed out. I’d just gotten out of the shower and was changing in front of my locker when my phone lit up with her gorgeous face.

Because, yeah, even though we haven’t been a thing for two months, I still have a picture of us as my home screen and a picture of her smiling in my bed as her contact photo. I don’t even try to hide it from the guys anymore. Sinatra already fessed up to asking Rowan to the fundraiser only to get a rise out of me, which holy fuck did he ever.

Totally worth it though to see her dolled up in that dress. Holy shit, I almost keeled over from the rush of blood that went every-fucking-where. The rush filled my head, then dropped to my heart, making me think I was having a heart attack, then made my dick swell. It was too much, too fast, but holy fuck was it worth it.

Tonight we’re going casual. She picked her fancy pizza place and asked me to meet her there instead of picking her up. I’m trying not to look into that too much. Picking her up would make this a date. Meeting her there is dinner with a friend.

But it’s progress. Better than her ghosting me for two months. I won’t ask her about it. I get that she needed her time. I’m only happy that she’s smiling again. That she’s in the stands again. That she’s talking to me again.

I arrive at the restaurant ten minutes early and get a table for us near the back. I sit facing the door so I can see her when she comes through the door, but I’ll move so my back is to the restaurant to hopefully avoid being recognized.

A few minutes later, Rowan walks through. Even bundled in a winter coat and hat, I can still recognize her. It’s those beautiful brown eyes and those pink lips that call to me.

I stand and hold out the chair I was sitting in for her. “Hey.” I brush a quick, friendly kiss across her cheek and offer to take her coat. While she gets settled in, I add her coat to mine on the seat next to me.

A waitress comes over to take our drink order, and when she leaves, I brace my elbows on the table. “Tell me the truth. It was seeing me in a tux that made you ask me out to dinner, wasn’t it?”

She curls her bottom lip between her teeth and grins. “Maybe.”

“I knew it. I’ve heard I’m irresistible in a monkey suit.”

“Is that so?”

“Mhm. Aunt Lynn told me that on prom night, and she’d never lie to me.”

“Prom night, huh? You haven’t been in a tux since?”

“Maybe a time or two and hated every minute of it. Usually, I go for a suit and tie, but Brock told me he was wearing a tux, and since I knew I’d look better...” I lift my shoulder in a shrug as the waitress comes over to deliver our drinks.

“About the fundraiser,” Rowan starts, and glides her finger through the condensation of her iced tea. “Brock and I are just friends.”

“Oh, I know.” I laugh.

“You do?”

“Yeah. He told me about his scheme. Freaking Sinatra is a sneaky one.”

“Wait. What scheme? You mean the pool for who had the hottest date? Not that I was, but I’m flattered you voted for me. My winnings are paying for dinner.”

I lean forward and point at her. “Wrong on so many counts, Doc. A, you were and are, by far, the most gorgeous woman in any room. And B, you’re not paying for dinner.”

She opens her mouth to argue, no doubt, and I shake my finger at her.

“I disagree but thank you.” She takes a drink of her tea and I do the same.

The waitress comes back and I tell Rowan to order the weird pizzas she’s raved so much about. When the waitress leaves, I start to dig.

“So, tell me what you’ve been up to.” I keep my tone light, not wanting to scare her away with the intensity of my feelings. She’s gotta know time hasn’t diminished them. I’m sure she could feel how hard I was when dancing with her last weekend. I didn’t try to hide it from her, which could have backfired, but I’m pretty sure it was lust and longing I saw in her eyes as well.

“Nothing exciting. Work, work, and more work.”

“And your sister? Not that I’m checking up on her, because frankly, I don’t give a damn.” I tilt my head and smile. “My aunt used to watch that movie. What is that line from?”

“One of my favorite classic movies. Gone With the Wind . I can’t believe you’ve seen it.”

“We didn’t have cable growing up. Lynn thought it would shape us into the devil. Didn’t help Julia any.”

“Miles,” she scolds, and I laugh.

“You have to admit, Jules has a bit of the devil in her.”

“Oh, I think her older brother does as well.”

I grin unabashedly at her. “Are you flirting with me, Doc?”

“No.” She bites back her grin. “I’m stating facts.”

Her cheeks turn pink again and my cock swells with pride. “Stop distracting me. As I was saying, Auntie had all her old movies on disc, and that’s what we watched. Gone With the Wind, Sound of Music, Wizard of Oz . And Murder She Wrote.”

“I’ve never heard of that one.”

“It was a television series during the eighties. A cute old lady in Maine solving small-town crimes. I bought her the box set one year for Christmas. That Angela Lansbury was quite the character.”

“Was she the cute old lady?”

“Yeah. We’ll have to binge it sometime.”

“That would be fun.”

Yes . I mentally fist pump the air. The waitress comes by with our pizzas.

“I didn’t realize how hungry I was until I sat down.”

“Dig in, Doc. We can go for dessert later if you’re still hungry. Unless of course you just want to lick me. I’ve heard I’m pretty damn sweet.”

Shit. I didn’t mean it as sexual, just flirty. But the image of Rowan with her tongue dragging up and down my cock is a hard one to get out of my head. She’s given me one blow job, and it’s not one I’ll ever forget.

I adjust my hardening cock and clarify. “Sweet. Charming. Sexy. You know, the whole package.” I wink at her, and she laughs. Thank Christ.

Conversation flows easily while we eat our pizza, and I have to admit, the potato Brussels sprouts one isn’t half bad. I’ve never enjoyed just talking with a woman as much as I do with Rowan.

It’s not until our plates are cleared and we’re sipping on spiced coffee that Rowan leans back and her smile falters.

“These past few months have been...” She lets out a sigh and plays with her napkin. Finally, she looks up and gives me a sad smile. “The hardest but most life-changing months of my life.”

I narrow my brows in confusion and wait for her to continue.

“I’ve been seeing someone—”

“You’ve been seeing someone?” I repeat.

“Raye has helped me get through the emotional baggage I’ve been carrying.”

“Ray?” I whisper.

The revelation hits me like a punch to the gut, the kind that leaves you breathless, disoriented, and aching in places you didn’t even know existed. Harder than the broadside tackle that dislocated my shoulder five years ago.

My heart beats erratically, caught between disbelief and a raw, gnawing ache that I can’t shake.

She is with someone else.

The thought ricochets in my brain, spinning out of control, colliding with every hope I’d dared to entertain about us, about her . I imagined a thousand moments we could share, a future built in quiet, unexpected ways. But all of it is suddenly meaningless in the face of someone else’s touch. Someone else’s presence in her life.

Anger, sharp and cold, bubbles up, but it’s quickly overrun by an overwhelming wave of helplessness. I can’t make her choose me. She hadn’t chosen me. She hadn’t even given me a chance to fight for what we could have had.

The hurt is the worst part. It isn’t the sting of jealousy, though that is there, too, gnawing at me like a bitter taste in the back of my throat. It isn’t even the sense of betrayal—because, deep down, I know I hadn’t given her enough to stay. I hadn’t asked for more. I let her go and respected her space, it all came back to bite me in the ass.

It’s the raw, hollow feeling of being... irrelevant . Of realizing that, in the end, I wasn’t the one she needed.

I drop my chin to my chest and close my eyes in pain, the image of her laughing with another man burning into my mind. For a moment, everything around me blurs, the edges of reality dulling to a soft, distant hum. My body moves on autopilot, seeking space, seeking air, but the truth settles deep in my chest like a stone, weighing me down, suffocating me with the certainty that I will never be the one who gets to love her the way she deserves.

And that? That is what stings the most. That I can’t be the one who loves her. Not now, not ever.

I push my chair back and reach for my wallet, pulling out a wad of cash.

“This isn’t going to work, Rowan. I don’t have the capacity to be near you and not...” I squeeze my eyes shut and breathe through my nose before I say something I’ll regret. “I’m happy for you. Have a good life.”

I turn and walk out the door, wondering how the fuck I’m going to go on without Rowan in my life.