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There’s something so relaxing about the way the wind blows through my hair as I drive down Gulf Drive on my matte black Harley.

This has become my tradition the day before home games.

The engine rumbles beneath me, shaking out every negative thought in my head.

It’s a feeling that brings me ridiculous amounts of comfort.

Comfort that seems to be slipping away the closer we get to June, when my brother gets married.

I should be thrilled for two of my favorite people, I am, really, but it stirred up something I wasn’t quite ready to confront.

Something I’ve been adamant about not wanting.

The numerous overheard wedding plans have slowly started to chip away at the armor around my heart. Well, that mixed with my therapist, Dr. Williams, telling me it’s time to get back on the dating train, which sounds like a freaking nightmare if you ask me.

Sometimes, I wish God would just drop my future wife in my lap and say, “Here ya go, buddy. Thanks for playing!” And all would be gumdrops and lollipops. But as with most things in my life, Eeyore is more likely to smile than for me to let anyone get anywhere close to my heart.

That would require me to get over myself and the multitude of issues I have, courtesy of my ex-girlfriend and ex-best friend.

It’s not that I don’t want to be that happy-go-lucky guy again at some point before I kick the can; it’s that I’ve been this version of myself for half a decade.

I don’t know if the real version of me is still alive in the cage I locked him in .

I’ve watched my brother and Hannah for the past two years, the way he puts her needs above his own, only for her to do the same for him.

The constant serving of one another—“How can I help?” or “How can I make this easier for you?”—has slowly become the gold standard.

It’s the model of the relationship I’d like to have one day, the kind of man I’d like to be for whoever the unlucky lady is.

Greyson’s always been a dreamer. He learned to braid hair in middle school so he could do it for his future wife and daughters.

Watch him end up with a rowdy pack of boys instead.

Me? I’ve always savored the quiet moments, the ones that matter in ways most people overlook.

But I, too, always wanted someone I could love, spoil, and appreciate the heck out of.

A side effect of watching our parents, who are still very much in love all these years later.

That’s a dream of mine that has been dead for a long time, though.

I park my bike in front of The Beach House restaurant, my go to spot for peace since I could drive.

The square, one-story, white building opens up to an outdoor bar that overlooks the Gulf; it feels like the only place I can take a full breath some days.

I step inside, making it halfway to my usual spot when I hear it, a laugh. Soft and melodic and too damn familiar.

I’d recognize that laugh anywhere, Abby Knight.

Of all the people that could be here... Her blonde hair reflects the sunlight like it’s gold.

She’s smiling at the guy sitting across from her.

I hate that smile. Not because it’s hers, but because in the two years I’ve known her, it’s never been aimed at me.

For me, it’s all glares and enough sarcasm to run off an army.

I should turn around, grab my seat at the bar, eat, mind my own business, then call it a day.

But that would make entirely too mu ch sense, even for me.

Instead, my legs move toward her like they’re attached to a wolf looking for its next meal, primed and ready for a fight.

The second her eyes snag on mine, her expression shifts from lighthearted to livid. Perfect. Mortal enemy mode: activated.

“Abby,” I say, nodding as I get within talking distance. Her hand tightens around her fork to the point her knuckles turn white. I wouldn’t be surprised if she thought about stabbing me in the side as I walk dangerously close to her table.

She says nothing, but her eyes stay locked on mine the whole time I’m in her line of sight. The guy's eyes widen comically as he gapes in her direction. “You know Tatum Wilder?” he hisses as his head moves animatedly between the two of us.

I catch her spit out, “Unfortunately, he’s Greyson’s baby brother.

” Before I’m out of earshot, it makes me smile, internally, that is.

Me, smile in public? Fat chance. Ahh yes, pissing her off is one of my favorite pastimes, especially because I know she hates surprises.

And me showing up while she’s on a lunch date is quite the surprise, even for me. I wonder if Hannah knows she’s here.

“Hey, man,” Tristan, the bartender and my old college teammate, calls from the other side of the bar as I pull the chair out of my normal spot. “The usual?” he asks as he sets a water down in front of me.

“Yeah, thanks.” I’m nothing if not a creature of habit, and while the menu here is phenomenal, I get the same thing every time. A grilled chicken sandwich with no lettuce, mayo, tomato, or onion, with fries. And, of course, extra honey mustard.

I watch the kite surfers while I wait for my food; it’s an activity that’s always puzzled me.

How do you get back down? What if the wind is crazy and you get carried out to sea?

What happen s if you fall? If you let go of the kite in the air, does the wind take off with it?

How do you get it back? I’m sure all my questions could be answered with a simple search on the internet, but somehow, it’s more fun to wonder.

“Here ya go.” Tristan sets my plate down in front of me, topping off my water before he looks over my shoulder, his forehead scrunching with the movement of his brows.

“What?” I bite out.

“A tiny blonde woman is staring a hole in the back of your head,” he whispers a bit too loudly, amusement lacing his tone.

I try to scowl, but the tug at the corner of my mouth betrays me as it pulls into a small smirk. “That’d be Abby. Hannah’s best friend.” I mutter as I quickly take a bite of my sandwich to hide exactly how much joy I’m getting from this situation.

He lets out a low whistle. “Looks like she’d eat you alive.” His focus bounces back and forth between the two of us. “She’s kind of scary.” I roll my eyes as I take a drink of water.

There’s a reason I refer to her as ‘Terrifying Pixie,’ she works with hockey players all day.

She’s built some tough skin, doesn’t put up with anyone's nonsense, and she’ll let you know exactly how she feels.

Which is exactly why it's no shock when her perfume, which I’ve learned from Hannah is named “Light Blue”, invades my senses.

Her lithe body plops onto the barstool next to me, arms crossing over her chest as she stares at the side of my face.

When I don’t give her the reaction she’s looking for, she bites out, “Why are you here?” Her elbow meets the bar top, as she dramatically drops her chin into her open palm, her eyes wear a hole in the side of my face as she glares.

I wipe my hands on my napkin as I finish chewing, head angling slightly in her direction, my blank stare only adds fuel to her fire.

I look down at my plate, then back at her.

“I’m eating,” I say as I drag my tongue across my lower lip, picking up a drop of sauce.

She tracks the movement as a slight blush blooms at the base of her neck.

“Is that okay, Your Royal Highness?” Her dramatic eye roll almost makes me laugh, but I won’t give her the satisfaction.

“God, you’re insufferable,” she spits out before getting up and walking back to her table.

I shake my head and take another bite, glancing at Tristian, who’s grinning like he got a front-row seat to a WWE match. “I take it back. I like her,” he says.

“Of course you do. Insubordinate is exactly your type,” I say flatly.

Focusing on my food is becoming harder by the second as her laugh floats through the air.

It isn’t forced, but it seems to be coming out at a decibel that’s entirely too loud for her normal laugh.

It’s like she’s trying to remind me that she’s here. .. As if I could forget it.

There’s never been anyone on this planet who gets under my skin the way she does. The way she constantly pushes every button I have like a child in an elevator. The daggers she shoots at me whenever I open my mouth. The way she’s a ray of sunshine to literally everyone but me.

She’s infuriating. I can’t wait for the day some fool falls for her.

She’ll have a freaking field day with him.

Then, maybe she won’t spend so much time with Hannah and my brother, and I can breathe a bit without her cursing my existence.

Or plotting my death. I’m not sure what goes on in her head half the time.

I throw some cash on the bar, down the rest of my water, and head back to my bike.

As I pull the keys out of my pocket, I hear, “Hey, I’m a huge fan.

You guys are killing it this season.” Normally, I’d say thanks and keep moving without stopping to entertain the possibility of conversation.

But for whatever reason, I turn around. Surprise, surprise, it’s the guy Abby was with.

“Thanks,” I say, looking around, trying to figure out why he left her alone to come talk to me. That’s kind of a dick move. “Where’s your girlfriend?” His face pulls tight at the question.

“Gross. That’s my brother, you nitwit.” I angle my head to the side, raising my eyebrows in response. Her gaze hardens as she looks past her brother, directly at me. “Come on, Dex. I don’t have all day,” she says as she purposely hits my shoulder with hers as she passes by.

“Nice to meet you, Dex,” I hold out my hand, and he shakes it as a smile takes over his face.

“I’m sure I’ll be seeing more of you,” he says as he pulls his hand from mine, laughing as he walks away.