Page 108 of Over the Limit

CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE

Blair

“Blair. Wait up.”

Rossi’s voice rings across the paddock and everything about me falters at the sound of it—my expression, my footsteps, my breath. I steel myself for seeing him. For this conversation, one that hopefully goes better than the other night when Lachlan had to drag him away from my room.

Do I miss my best friend? Yep. Still do. But I haven’t exactly loved his behavior as of late. The drunken calls, the passive-aggressive texts. Rossi acting like a spoiled brat isn’t exactly a new revelation to me—but acting like that about us is.

More than anything, it shows that I had a specific role in his life. That I was his champion for all things public and private. But now with our relationship over, I am no longer obligated to be anything when it comes to him.

Do I want to tell him I’ve moved on? Definitely.

Can I tell him a damn thing? Nope. Sure can’t.

I take a fortifying breath and brace myself for whatever this conversation might bring.

“You’re back here. At this race,” he says more like a question than a statement.

“I am. I had meetings with . . . some people.”

“Some people?” He lifts his eyebrows. “That’s where we’re at now? You’re not talking to me?”

“I am talking to you, Oliver. I’m not quite sure which version of you I’m going to get though. Nice friend, Oliver. Or drunk prick banging on my door, Rossi.”

“Jesus. Seriously?” He laughs like it’s all a joke but, when he meets my eyes, he realizes that I’m pissed about the other night. Even over the noise of the paddock, I can hear his sigh. “Look. I’m sorry. I just . . . I was having a bad night.”

“What? One of your one-nighters bailed before the good times got rolling?”

“Hey. That’s not—”

“It is fair. So long as you’re as understanding when I take the next step,” I say. “I’m happy for you. I’m glad you’re moving on. All I ask from you is the same courtesy when I do so.”

“That’s not going to be easy.”

“And you think it’s easy for me?” I stare at him with my jaw clenched and disbelief in my expression. “I’m done with the two sets of rules for us. What’s good for you is just as good for me. Just because I broke up with you, doesn’t mean I don’t love the person you are. It also doesn’t mean I enjoy watching you whore yourself out.”

“Like you said, you broke up with me.” His tone changes. The defensive stance is clear in his voice.

“I did. And I think it was the right decision,” I say and hate the stiffening of his body. That stiffening means he was holding out hope for a reconciliation. Shit. “Our relationship ran its course, Oliver. Nothing more. Nothing less.”

He pauses for a beat, looking down before meeting my eyes. “It kind of sucks,” he whispers.

“It does. I know.” I reach out and grab his hand. I still love you. Those words are on my tongue, but I know he’ll think they mean more than the platonic way in which I mean them, so I bite them back. “We’ll get to a place where we’re okay. I promise.”

“You promise?” he asks and reminds me so much of the boy I fell for all those years ago.

“I do.”

“Come here,” he says and pulls me into a hug. My hesitation is brief and telling because when I’m folded in his arms, I realize it’s such a different feeling than when I’m with Lachlan. With Lach I feel safe, secure, desired, understood, and excited. With Rossi I just feel . . . like an uncertain teenager waiting for the next shoe to drop.

How did I never notice it before?

“I missed you,” he murmurs and this time when he squeezes me, there’s a crinkling noise. He laughs. “What the heck is that?”

“I don’t know. Nothing.”

But before he lets me go, he feels inside my jacket pocket and pulls out two wrapped peppermints and two empty wrappers.