Page 90 of Hard Pass

Besides, messing with the coffee machine gives me a chance to distract myself from replaying everything in my head again. But apparently the distraction isn’t long-lived seeing as the next thing I recall is looking up and seeing Willa sitting there, arms crossed, eyebrows raised and a smirk playing on her lips as she watches me.

“Reminiscing?”

“No. Yes.” I shake my head. “It’s complicated.”

“As it often is. Try me.” Her voice is gentler now, the I told you so in her tone, by the wayside.

“I don’t even know where to start.”

She nods like she expected that. “Then don’t start with him. Start with you.”

I close my eyes. Exhale. “I made a mistake.”

“Did you?”

“Yes.” I nod, as if the action is going to emphasize how I know I’m supposed to feel but actually don’t. “No. I don’t know.”

She nods again. “Well, at least that’s honest.”

I laugh under my breath. “Great. Glad my emotional crisis is productive.”

“So my assumption is right?”

I bark out a laugh. Why am I suddenly nervous? “Yes. That would be a correct assumption.”

“Well, no one can say you aren’t a determined woman to finish what you started and get what you wanted.”

“It wasn’t like that at all.” Her eyebrow ticks up. “There was this . . . thing,” I say, not wanting to betray Cole’s trust and spill about his dad. “And I was worried about him and followed him home and we fought and then—”

“You fought and then you fucked.” She nods. “Can’t say there’s a better combination than that.”

“It’s . . .”

“Complicated. So you’ve said.” She takes the coffee I slide over to her as I begin a cup for myself. “And now you’re spiraling because I’m assuming it was great—”

“Better than great.”

“Noted.” She chuckles. “And you want to do it again, but holy shit, flashing lights, sirens going off, five alarm fire . . . this is a major conflict of interest.”

I draw in a deep breath and stare at the ceiling for a beat. “No matter how I spin or justify it, yes.”

“Which is part of the reason for this spiral while the other part is you freaking out over why this man, of all the men I’ve ever seen you with, is the only one who’s ever pushed you to buck the box you perpetually stay within.”

“It was a bad call. A very bad call.”

“But a call you’d make again if the chance arose, right?”

If you could take it back . . . would you?

Would I?

I meet her eyes and she knows the answer.

“I figured as much. So, here are your options,” she says, ticking them off on her fingers. “You tell your boss. You come clean, get ahead of it, deal with the fallout.”

I flinch. “I can’t . . .”

“Or,” she says, “you walk away. From the case. From him. From all of it.”