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She stands a little taller. “I don’t care what people think of me or the lies they will tell after this.”

And that’s what I adore about her. She is who she is. Take her or leave her—she conforms to no one. Not even me.

“I’ll use one of your IOUs as payment for bringing me to the hospital,” I tell her. It’s not a thank you but a contract. I need all of this to stay as a contract.

She flops down on the bed, not caring if she jostles me, and grabs the remote. “Shut up.”

I chuckle. “I’m serious. I appreciate your help. Let me take one of your million IOUs away.”

She scrolls through the channels.

“They have limited channels in here,” I say after realizing she intends to ignore me. “You won’t find that sea otter shit you’re looking for.”

“They’re sea lions, not otters,” she corrects, settling on the National Geographic channel and lying back, pushing me over in the process.

We sit quietly for a moment, watching rhinos bumble around when she whispers, “I didn’t help you because I felt like I owed you.”

Ahh. Always the giver. “You should.”

“You don’t scare me, Maverick Lexington.”

I shake my head. “You don’t want to be my friend, Ainsley James.”

I catch her lips tip up in an almost smile. “You’re right. I don’t want to be your friend. I want to be your roomie.”

After a miserable few hours in the hospital, Dr. Kallay finally agrees to release me but not before stressing that I need to tell Pops about what I’ve been doing to his company. I don’t plan on fulfilling that request anytime soon. What Pops doesn’t know won’t hurt him .

“You want anything to eat?” Ainsley calls out from the kitchen.

I shake my head. “No, thanks.”

I just need a shower and maybe a fucking nap. Every time I’m tachycardic, I sleep for hours afterward. It’s like the world’s worst workout.

Fingering the snug and ridiculous shirt of a penguin eating ice cream, I snatch it off and toss it in the hamper. Ainsley was so proud of herself when she pulled that damn thing from her bag and handed it over.

“Here,” she had said. “I grabbed a change of clothes for you.”

I thought she had meant my clothes.

“I’m not wearing this,” I told her, handing it back over.

She had looked so smug. “Then you’ll walk out in a hospital gown. Your choice.”

I was so done and so turned on that I yanked that stupid shirt over my head, grabbed her hand, and pulled her out of the building in 2.5 seconds flat.

Today went to utter shit—almost comically so.

Yesterday, I was leaving her a picture to burn and hoping she would move on, and today, I’m holding her hand and wearing her fucking penguin shirt.

Sebastian would get such a thrill out of seeing me like this. Confused. Pissed. Happy. I’m like a hormonal teenage girl.

I guess it doesn’t matter, though. Soon, Ainsley will be gone—thanks to Mike and his dad and my generous donation to her housing fund—and she’ll take all these fucking feelings with her.

Quickly, I hop in the shower before shutting myself in my room for a while, chewing on the end of an unlit cigarette, and shuffling a deck of cards.

I need some fucking Zen. I need a poker game.

There’s just one problem.

“I made you something to eat,” Ainsley says, bursting through the door without knocking.

Please note Exhibit A—her bursting into my room without permission. She’s too comfortable around me now. She knows my secret and knows I’m not the big bad bully she once thought.

“Don’t you need to go to work?” I ask, hoping for a little privacy and some time to think.

Her face scrunches up. “No. I told Tucker my friend needed me.” She says the word friend like she knows it gets on my nerves.

I groan. “We’re not friends. I’ll be fine. Go to work.”

She turns to leave, ignoring me. “Your food is on the kitchen counter.”

My food is on the fucking counter.

I shake my head, watching her ass sway down the hallway.

My stomach growls, and my dick twitches. Apparently, we want everything this girl has to offer.

Tossing the cigarette, I shuffle down the hall, following her to the kitchen, where a plate of raw vegetables and a glass of water sit.

“This is mine?” I point to the food. I felt sure I was walking in for a bowl of macaroni and cheese.

“Yep,” she manages between bites of?—

“Is that pizza?”

She nods. “A frozen one, but yes.”

I look around the kitchen for the rest of it.

“Don’t look around like I’m some kind of greedy pig, eating all the food in here. It was a single serving size. You, with your heart issues, clearly did not need to eat it.”

“But it was mine,” I argue, plucking a carrot from the tray and biting down hard enough the crunch echoes between us.

“Did you not just get discharged from the hospital?”

“Did you not just root through my freezer and eat my pizza? What if I was saving it for a special day?”

Total bullshit. I don’t really care, but I like to give her a hard time. It helps with the awkwardness I feel at her taking care of me.

“You weren’t.”

The TV is on and playing her aquarium show.

I moan. “Can we please watch something else tonight? ”

Her lips flatten, and she gives me the side-eye like how dare I request to watch something on my own TV.

“Maverick, I need calm right now. You scared the shit out of me, and only a sea lion can fix it. Sit down and eat.”

This bossy thing she has going is . . . refreshing.

“You would think you were the one who almost died,” I mumble, sitting alongside her.

I didn’t almost die, but since she’s being all dramatic, I figure I will too.

“What’s with all this sea lion stuff anyway?” I point with my carrot to the stuffed sea lion that now basically lives on my couch.

“What’s with all the poker stuff?” She points with the slice of pizza in her hand mockingly.

“It’s a business,” I respond. “I make a living off playing the game.”

She swallows a huge bite. “Liar. You make a living out of doing all the IRA-y type stuff for your grandfather.”

“Pops,” I correct her. “I call him Pops.”

She smiles, and I shove a stalk of broccoli down my throat to shut myself up.

“Did your pops raise you?”

She already knows my mother died.

“Yes, you could say that.”

“What about your dad? Is he still alive?”

I snatch the remote and turn the volume up on the TV. I don’t want to share pasts with her right now. I’ve already shared too much as it stands.

“I’ve never met my father,” she volunteers. “My mom raised me all by herself.” Her gaze is fixed on the television. “My grandma helped out a lot too. So I never had a traditional upbringing either.”

Don’t answer. “Does anyone?” Sebastian is the only one out of my friends who was raised with a mother and father. Rowan and I had pieced-together families.

She snorts. “Probably not. ”

“Is that why you play Who Wants to Be a Millionaire? Because of your grandma?”

I catch her grin. “Yep. What about you? Does the poker stuff come from your pops?”

I snort. “No, the making money part does, though.”

He really is going to kick my ass when he learns what I’ve been doing to his company.

A sea lion barks on the screen, and I watch as Ainsley completely forgets about me, her face lighting up with something like pure happiness.

“You never answered my question,” I probe.

“Shh! Hush for just a minute.”

Just a minute turned out to be until the sea lion went off, and a commercial came on.

“Now, what were you saying?” she asks me, totally serious.

She really just shushed me so she could finish watching her precious sea lions do nothing but bark and flop around on a fake rock.

“I was asking, again, what’s with you and these sea lions?” I point to the stuffed one she now has clutched in her lap.

“I like them,” she answers vaguely.

I cock a brow. “More like you’re obsessed with them.”

“I like them a lot, okay?”

Not okay. She is not going to weasel personal information out of me and think she can get away unscathed.

“Why do you like this aquarium show so much?” I try again. “It’s rather boring.”

“You’re rather bor—” She sighs, stopping herself. “When I was little, I wanted to be a marine biologist and work with the sea lions. They’ve always been my favorite animal.”

I assumed.

“You don’t now? Want to work with sea lions, I mean.”

She turns her body to face me. “It’s too late. I’m a psychology major now. ”

She says it like it’s a death sentence and not something she’s excited to embark on in another couple of years as a career.

“You can change your major.” I don’t see the problem here.

She scoffs like I’m a complete fool. “Do you know how hard it is to get into the marine biology program at Havemeyer?”

I shrug. “I’m guessing hard when you don’t know the right people.” Or have them owe you favors.

“It’s really , really hard.”

I sit my plate down on the coffee table, exhaustion creeping up on me. “So what, your grades weren’t good enough to get you in?”

She bows her head. “My grades were perfect. I even had a scholarship at another school.”

I feel my eyes widen, fighting the fatigue. “And . . .”

“And Tucker got into pre-med here where there were no openings.”

I shift. “You’re telling me that you gave up your dreams so he could pursue his?” I leave off the part about "with another woman" because, obviously, she knows that.

“No!” She stands, her face red and eyes watery. “I was realistic and cared about him. You wouldn’t understand since you care about no one!”

At that, she throws the remote at my chest and storms off, slamming her bedroom door.

Wow. That went sideways fast. I didn’t expect her major to be such a sore spot, but I didn’t know she gave it up for Fuckface.

Shaking my head, I turn the TV off and leave my half-eaten plate and her empty one on the counter before making my way to my room, pausing briefly at the hall closet.

“Ugh,” I moan.

Leave it alone, Maverick. Stop the proverbial bleeding. Let this girl go. You don’t have the time, and she doesn’t have the space. Fuckface did too much damage.

I can’t help it, though. I grab a pillow and blanket, taking it back to the couch and laying it down. And for shits and giggles, I tuck the damn sea lion under it before walking away.

Something—or someone—is hovering above me.

Again.

For the sixth time tonight.

“Stop checking on me.” I groan, snagging the hand on my chest and tugging her entire body across me so she’s wedged into my side before I place her hand back on my heart.

“Now, go to sleep,” I order.

And we do.

Together.

Side by side, making a mess of our contract.