Page 89 of Hot Shot
“Yeah. It is.”
“Are you sure, Mads?” EJ finally looks up at me, holding my gaze. “That’s what you thought about the last guy you dated and that didn’t work out.”
Did he really go there?
“Elliot,” I grit out. “Seriously?”
He shrugs. “Calling it like it is.”
I set my fork down on my plate, inhaling a deep breath.
Don’t make a scene, Madison. Don’t make a scene.
“What the fuck, Elliot?”
He studies me for a beat before surprising me by changing the subject and asking, “How are things with your father?”
The air in my lungs whooshes out at his words. I reach for my glass, draining the last of my wine.
I finally say through gritted teeth, “It’s going well. We’ve seen each other a few times. Had dinner. I think we’re building a great relationship.”
“No need to be hostile about it, Madison. I’m simply curious to know what it’s like having a father who is the head coach for the Storm.”
“Really, Elliot?” I cross my arms, my food forgotten. What the hell is he getting at? Agreeing to see him was a mistake.
I study him for a minute trying to figure out where my best friend went. Where the guy who held me when I lost my job twice went. Where the guy who was always there when I needed him went. Because this guy, this guy in front of me, is none of those people.
He quirks a brow at me, feigning surprise. “That’s still under wraps?”
“Yes,” I hiss. Hoping he’ll drop it and move on.
“Why?”
“Because we’re still navigating our relationship.” I take a deep breath, closing my eyes for a second to try to tamp down my anger, before asking, “How’s your season going?”
Do I really care about his season? No, not really. I just want to change the subject, finish dinner, and get out of here.
“It’s going.”
He proceeds to tell me about the new head coach of the Fury and how he’s made some changes to the lineup. I nod at the right times, only half listening to him complain about his teammates and the coaching staff. Apparently he’s not getting as much ice time as he thinks he deserves.
A past version of me would have wholeheartedly agreed with him, but now after being away from him for so long, all I see is a grown man whining about not getting what he wants.
The conversation trails off and we eat in silence, which I’m grateful for.
Tonight gave me the closure I was seeking on our friendship, and it’s time for him to move on, without me.
“EJ.” I push my empty plate away from me. “I think—“
“Madison. I’m glad we had dinner tonight. I hope this can be the restart our friendship needs.” He shoves a hand through his hair, holding my gaze.
For a second, I catch a glimpse of my old friend, the kid who protected me from bullies in elementary school, comforted me when my first boyfriend broke up with me in high school, but then he’s gone.
“EJ, Elliot. I don’t know if our friendship can be repaired. Not after tonight.”
“It’s been almost a year, Madison,” he says like I need reminding.
I shake my head. “It’s not only about what happened before. It’s how you acted tonight.”
