Running Back (New York Leopards 2)

“Because. Jeremy’s my professor. Anyways, he’s been studying manuscripts and finding other sources that mentioned Ivernis.”

“I don’t get why you’re so loyal to him.”

Please. I looked down at my feet as they moved over long grasses. We paced as quickly as we spoke, a frantic energy surrounding our words and movements. Something was off with us. “What about your coach? Aren’t you loyal to him?”

“That’s different.”

“I don’t think it is.”

“It is, because I don’t spend so much one-on-one time with him. I don’t do things for him, like you secured the funding and the permission and the lodging. And I get paid a ton, while you do this out of personal emotions.”

“I’m loyal to Jeremy because—because—” I’d never tried to psycho-analyze my relationship with Jeremy. “He’s a great person. He’s brilliant, and intense, and sincere, and dedicated. And he has helped me so much.”

“He’s not interested in you. Oh, he finds it cute and flattering, but he’s not interested.”

I jerked to a stop, enlightenment finally descending. “You’re jealous.”

He wrenched around to face me. “Yeah, fine. I’m jealous.”

Wow. Wonder bloomed in my chest as I studied the simmering anger in Mike’s gaze and clenched jaw. “Mike, no, I don’t like him. I like you.”

“Except you think he’s brilliant and wonderful.”

“I think my best friend Cam is brilliant and wonderful, and I don’t want to date her either.”

I could see him trying to pull all his emotions away and bury them behind his mask of calm, the mask he usually covered with another of charm. I didn’t want that. I wanted Mike, raw and unfiltered, and I wanted to understand why he was upset. “Mike, I’m confused. What are you trying to get at?”

He studied me. “I guess I’m just interested if he’s the kind of guy you’d consider lifetime monogamy for?”

I scrunched up my forehead. “What?”

“You said you didn’t believe in love, but in lifetime monogamy with someone you’re compatible with. He seems like a good candidate. What do you think?”

“Why are you pushing this?”

“I just want to know.”

Irritated across all bounds, I answered honestly. “Sure, I could see that. We have similar interests and career goals and values. We’d probably always be interested in each other as human beings.”

“You’d rather

be with some guy you’re well-matched for then someone you love.” Then he shook his head. “Sorry. You don’t believe in love.”

“I do believe in it. I just have a hard time with the forever part.”

“You are a piece of work, Natalie Sullivan.”

“Why am I a piece of work? Just because I have a different opinion than you?” I waved my hands. “How did we even get to this conversation?”

“If you love someone, you make it work.”

“You can’t just magically make something work. And how do you even know? Have you ever seen love work for decades? Because I haven’t!”

We stared at each other. My heart pounded and I felt awful and sick and horrible, but it was true. And I didn’t know why it should matter to both of us so much, this far off concept, this abstract emotion, but it was clear that it mattered to both of us, and desperately.

We turned away at the same time. I wondered if we’d broken something.

The inn was in sight. We walked up to our floor, silent, and turned away at our separate doors.