Page 26 of The No Try Zone
I breathe, staring at him. Wondering what else I’m going to remember. Something about a coin? Was – was that memory of a coin flip what really started it all? I think it was.
My blood chills with the realization. Oh, God. We got married bychance.Pure chance. Fifteen flips of a coin and they all ended on heads. How? In what world does that even happen?
“So, you’re a physical therapist for the team?” he asks, shifting gears in the silence.
I growl as my eyes snap back to him. “You lied to me.” My voice shakes, but I press on. “You lied and let me marry you, and then you left. I woke up and you were gone. Gone! Without a trace. All I had was a fucking ring on my finger, and you didn’t even have the courtesy to tell me your real name.”
“Thatismy real name,” he insists. “My first name. What I grew up being called. I never use Colin when I travel.”
My head jerks back. “Why, because you’re so famous?” I ask, my voice dripping with disdain. “Give me a break.You married me and left.”
“You’re right. And I carry that guilt with me every day.”
The urge to poke him in the chest is so strong that I almost do it. “Do you think that makes it better? That feeling guilty about it somehow absolves you?”
“No!” He almost shouts the word, startling us both. Taking a deep breath and pinching the bridge of his nose, he exhales slowly. “Look,” he says, meeting my eyes, “we have to figure this out, seeing as how we apparently work together.”
I glare at him. Apparently?Apparently?“Yes, Colin, we will be working together. There’s no ‘apparently’ about it.”
“Are you going to be okay?”
“Areyou?” I shoot back. “Seems you’re the one freaking out about it.”
“I’m not the one screaming,” he hisses.
Folding my arms across my chest, I take a long look at him. He’s so pretty it pisses me off: tan skin that I now know is from years of being on the pitch, a square jaw and full lips that his beard can’t hide, hair that’s just this side of too long, waving in brown tendrils and falling onto his forehead in a way that probably lured me right to him that night, and those eyes. Those fucking eyes.
I fell for a damn rugger. Literal decades of holding those fuckers at bay, and then I go and marry one.
I stretch my neck side to side, willing myself to calm down. “I’m not screaming. This is the farthest thing from screaming. Because when Idoscream, Colin? Trust me – you’ll know.”
His eyes heat, and I swear my insides turn to goo. I shake my head to clear the ridiculous thoughts swirling in my mind and narrow my gaze. “Are you insinuating that I’m being too emotional about this?”
“No –”
“Because if you’re saying that I can’t handle my emotions –”
“Christ, woman!” he exhales. “Will you just – just fuckingwaita minute. Give me one damn moment to catch my breath.”
“Why?” I step closer to him. “So you can come up with a pitiful excuse for why you left me? Polish off that turd and present it to me like it’s a truffle? I’ve got news for you, man-child: It. Won’t. Work.” I poke his chest with those last three words, the remaining bits of my self-control shredding right along with my sanity.
His chest is rock-hard.
And that makes me even angrier. I still don’t remember enough. Through this entire conversation, my brain has been working double-time trying to reboot the system, using the data in front of me, but it’s not happening. Pieces are locking in, but I can’t put it in order and I’m still blank on most of it. Did we get married by Elvis?
Bloody hell.
Back to the prick in front of me. “No. I won’t give you a minute. You lost the right to ask for anything from me the second you decided it was better to leave me than to face this shitstorm we created together!” My voice rises, and it’s definitely loud enough for someone to hear it.
His eyes widen to comically epic proportions as he waves frantically for me to keep my voice down. “You’re right! You’re absolutely right. Now, will you please,” he glances around furtively, his stupid hair flopping onto his forehead, “let us talk about this later?”
“Happy to,” I deadpan. “Oh, but wait, I don’t have your number. So weird.”
I pivot to leave, but he grabs my arm. What is it with people thinking they can justtouchme today? I am not that kind of person. I glare at him, then drag my gaze to where his hand lies. “Remove your hand from my body, Colin, or it will be the last time it’s attached to you.”
His fingers splay as his hand rockets off my forearm. “Sorry,” he murmurs.
I have to admit, it’s fun making him squirm. I don’t hate it. I hate the situation I’m in, but this part right here? The one where he’s legitimately afraid I’m going to do something deadly to him because he doesn’t know me, and believes it’s entirely possible I might possess the skills needed to separate his hand from the rest of him? This part is absolute perfection.
