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Fear rushes through me. There’s no way he knows what I’m really mad about, right?

If he knew the truth, he probably wouldn’t even apologize.

I wouldn’t matter in the overall scheme of things, but he’d beg me not to tell Bryce, because we both know there’s no way he’d be okay with someone, especially a friend, saying something like that.

“And what do you think we need to talk about?” I keep my voice even, hoping he can’t pick up on the fear in it .

He glances around, like he’s scared someone might overhear us. Then, in a low voice, he says the last thing I’m expecting. “What happened in Omaha.”

I laugh, loudly. It comes so quickly, there’s no way to get control of it before it’s tumbling out.

Ronan rears back like I’d just offended him.

“You…" I take a deep breath, trying to calm myself down.

“You think this is about sex?” Another laugh bubbles out as soon as I ask the question. “ Seriously ?”

“Of course,” he snaps. I can see it, though, an emotion Ronan O’Brien doesn’t wear all that often—he’s uncomfortable. “What else could it be about, Mia? That’s when everything changed.”

But it’s not .

I want to remind him of all the ways that night didn’t change things, but allowed something new to happen.

We spent the entire year between the summers of 2016 and 2017 talking.

We’d text whenever we could, occasionally do video calls, and there were even a couple of times we met for dinner or coffee when we happened to be in the same city.

We never tumbled back into bed together; we just enjoyed each other’s company.

I would never say this to my best friend, but in those twelve months, Ronan and I were closer to a real relationship than she and Bryce ever were when they hooked up.

And now I’m learning that a year that meant everything to me, meant nothing to him. Which only makes the anger burn hotter.

“This has nothing to do with Omaha. Nor does it have anything to do with the way you led me on for a whole year, Ronan,” I snarl.

“Led you on?” If I didn’t know the reputation he had—the way he played women—I would almost believe he looked confused. “What are you talking about, Mia?”

“Does it matter?” The last thing I really want to do is bring this all up.

I’m in no place to have it out with Ronan, but I want to make something perfectly clear.

“If you think this is about Omaha, then you need to do some self-examining. I should have known better than to let my guard fall around you. Everyone warned me.”

He steps back, dark eyebrows furrowing further. “I don’t think that’s fair—”

“Isn’t it?” I cut him off. “All the warning signs were there, and you ended up doing what I always knew you would.”

“You were the one who straddled my lap. You initiated everything. I checked in constantly, making sure there was no regret. If you didn’t want it, I would have stopped the second I knew. Hell, I stopped so many times to make sure you wanted it!”

That night comes back to me in flashes. Blunt nails trailing up my thighs, dark hair buried between my legs as stars lit up behind my eyes.

The feel of him sinking into me. How it felt to be in this man’s strong and comforting arms. How, for a blink, I believe I could have someone like him want me in return.

For twelve months after that night, I thought we were building something amazing. Something real. Laying the foundation for something that could last. Screw the reputation, screw the doubters—I knew Ronan O’Brien in a way no one else did and he was never going to hurt me.

What a fucking joke.

“You know what I want now? I want you to leave me alone, Ronan.”

“Well, that’s going to be hard when we work together.”

“We work at the same swim club, but we don’t actively work together. All my marketing goes through Bryce and Carter. You’re a coach. You stay in your lane, and I’ll stay in mine.”

In the back of my head, I can hear Josie giggle. Of course, I would make a swimming pun to an Olympian in the middle of a heated argument. Ronan doesn’t find it amusing, though.

“Do Bryce and Josie know about what happened? ”

It’s not a question, but a demand. He wants to know where he stands in the eyes of our friends. Which makes me think maybe he knows more than he’s letting on. Neither one of them would care that we hooked up, especially because that same night was the start of their friends-with-benefits situation.

If he knows the truth, though, he’d be more concerned about who else might know.

“What was there to tell, Ronan?” Looking up at him, I know what I have to do. I need to get him to drop it. I need to give him a reason to stay away from me. “You were my biggest mistake, Ronan. I need you to know that.”

The impact of my words is instantaneous. I can feel the way everything shifts, watch as Ronan seems to collapse in on himself. All the tension he was holding—all the bravado he seems to exude at all times—just vanishes. He blinks at me, stunned by my bluntness. And I feel a little sick.

I’ve never seen him look so small.

“I don’t know what happened. I don’t know what changed between us, but this…” He trails off in a low voice. “How long are you going to stay mad at the past, Mia?”

“I’m not mad at the past.” The bag of chips crinkle beneath my grip. “I refuse to let it affect my future.”

There’s literally nothing else to say. I can hear footsteps coming up the stairs.

It feels like the walls are closing in on me, the weight of our words pushing them closer and closer.

I take a step back, ready to retreat back to my office.

Ronan reaches for me, but his hand stops mid-air as he realizes what he’s doing, then it drops.

And I know that whatever little shred of hope still hung between us is gone now.

There’s no coming back from the things I said.

Just like there’s no coming back from what he said.

The past is going to define us; it’s going to shape and influence everything that comes next.

It will serve as a reminder that our words and actions have consequences, and we’ll have to face those consequences one way or another. Even if it’s eight years down the line.

The door to the stairwell swings open, pulling Ronan’s gaze from me. In that brief moment of distraction, I do what every sensible woman would do in my position. I run.

I seek solace in my office; the door swinging closed behind me.

I listen as Ronan chats with Bryce about some game that was on TV the night before, our friend clueless about what just happened.

I used to want to hurt him the way he hurt me all those years ago, but seeing it unfold in real time made my stomach twist. Why did he have to make things happen this way?

We could have been happy. We had a chance to have everything, and he took it from us.

And I definitely never fought for it.