Page 58 of Over the Limit

Soon after the confusion came the guilt. The shame. The desire for more kisses eclipsed the guilt, though. Do you know how ridiculous it is to feel guilty that you don’t feel more guilt?

Like . . . what the fuck.

But a few days and a few bottles of wine later and my resolve didn’t change. I still knew what I wanted.

And I wanted Lachlan.

So I’ll play his game. I’ll prove to him that I know what I want. That I, too, understand the calculated risk we share in being together, and why we have to be cautious.

And then I’ll reap the damn rewards because if the way he kisses is any indication of how he does other things, then . . . damn. Just damn.

But it’s more than the physical. So much more. I had the physical with Rossi. It’s the talking. Feeling heard. Feeling understood.

There are risks though. Risks that feel like a splash of cold water every time I think about them. The ones that so clearly conflict Lachlan too.

And while I hate that he even has to think about it, I also love that he has. It says huge things about his character and the man he was raised to be.

But in wanting him, I could risk all he’s worked for. All I’ve worked for. How fucking unfair is that? And would it be worth it?

My job.

His relationship with Rossi. I can just imagine how Rossi would react if he found out his teammate started dating me.

His contract? Would that affect a team and how they perceive him? Someone willing to screw over a teammate for sex?

Those are the real questions.

Then again, why does it have to be anyone’s business? And why doesn’t it make me want him any less?

Seventeen days left.

I open my eyes and am met with the scene on the canvas in front of me. The green of a golf course, the dark night sky, and a shooting star streaking across it.

What did you wish for, Lachlan?

And why do I feel selfish wishing it were about me?

“You need help,” I mutter to myself as I grab my paintbrushes and head to the sink to clean them. I get lost in the mundane task of cleaning them as my thoughts drift.

Rossi hasn’t called at all. First and foremost, I think that’s more telling than anything. It means my decision was the right one. It means he doesn’t think I’m worth fighting for . . . or that his effort is better aimed elsewhere.

Have I gone to pick up the phone to text him about something random that happened? Of course I have. Old habits die hard.

But I’ve also picked up the phone to call Lachlan more than my need to text Rossi.

Does he have the same urge? To text? To call? To hear my voice? Is he reliving the moments we’ve shared over and over in his head much like I am?

My dad’s words come back to me.

“Either Oliver will get his shit together and you’ll take him back—if that’s what you want—or you’ll find another person who appreciates you that much more and you’ll go from there.”

So far it looks like it’s the latter.

Who knows? Maybe I’ve already found that person. Even if it’s just for the time being. No one said this is forever. Maybe he’s just a new habit. Then again, maybe he’s something more.

All that matters is that he makes me feel good about myself. That he makes me feel important and beautiful and heard. That I smile when I think about him.

The same things Skylar swears Russ makes her feel.