Page 55 of Never Pucking Ending

Why do I feel sweaty all the sudden? I don’t like the way he looks at me like he cannot get over the fact I’ve never known the reaction I get from the opposite sex. It’s never been a focus of mine. He knows that. I’ve always wanted to build a life for myself that’s independent, so whenever I do decide to date it’s because I want to not because I need them for something. I thought he respected that.

“You’re jealous,” I say, stating the obvious reason we’re having this conversation.

And he doesn’t deny it. “Jealous probably doesn’t cover what I feel, Belle.”

His voice is gruff and tired with a little bit of defeat in the tone. It makes me feel bad when I know there’s no reason for me to feel that way at all. I haven’t done anything. So why does guilt still linger in the pit of my stomach?

“Is that why you weren’t going to tell me that you accepted a deal with Isaac?”

Jesse’s eyes widen. “You knew?”

That’s a yes if I ever heard one. “He reached out to me on Instagram and said he was excited to work with you and that he was grateful. What I find odd is that you never brought up meeting with him. You hated Isaac.”

His shoulders go rigid. “Hate is strong word. He seemed full of himself back when you dated, like his dreams were the only ones that mattered. If I’m being honest, he still has that air to him.”

“But you’re still working with him?” I doubt.

He nods once. “Their product is good, and I can actually see myself and my fans drinking it.”

That doesn’t explain why he didn’t tell me about it sooner. “It sucks that I had to hear about it from him, considering we haven’t spoken in years. Yet, the man I live with and see almost every single day if not talk to every single day conveniently leaves it out.”

Jesse knows he’s backed into a corner. “Yes,” he finally admits. “Jealously played a role in not telling you. I’m sorry for that. I didn’t want him getting any ideas.”

The pig-like snort comes out of me before I realize it’s happening. “What ideas? He’s getting married this year, Jesse. Do you think I’d entertain him even if he did try crossing that line with me? I’m not a homewrecker.”

“I never said you were.”

“Then give me some credit!” I bellow defensively. By keeping something that isn’t even a big deal from me makes it into one. And he clearly doesn’t get that. I slide off the counter and walk over to him. “If your plan is to chase men off for the rest of my life because you’re jealous that they talk to me or might think I’m pretty, then I suggest finding a new hobby. Because this is getting old really fast.”

He tries to stop me, but I whip my arm out form his hold. “Not that it matters,” I inform him, “but I have no interest in Isaac. I wouldn’t be interested even if he weren’t engaged. And Dane is a great guy who’s so nice to me. He’s the type of guy that people would want me to be with because he’s considerate and patient and driven the same way I am. He’s the kind of guy my mother would be happy to see me date after the dickwads like Isaac.”

Jesse goes still as he watches me, lowering his hand to his side. “Bells…”

“But the problem,” I go on, efficiently ending this conversation with a heavy truth, “is that he’s not you. They are not you. And I am sick and tired of comparing everybody to a man who I can’t have. One day, Jesse, we’re both going to have to accept that there are other people out there for us. And neither of us can get in the way of that.”

He goes pale, and I’m not sure at which part. But I don’t stick around to ask. There’s a dull thrumming in the back of my head that I pray doesn’t turn into anything. I’m on crunch time for this meeting and still have finishing touches to put together for it.

I start walking up the stairs toward my room when I hear him exhale sharply. But he doesn’t try to stop me again.

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

Jesse

What do you get someone as an apology gift for being a fuck waffle? Everything I can think of is never good enough, and I doubt Belle would want anything from me right now anyway.

I left a string of Hershey kisses that started at her bedroom door and ended at her office, where I put her favorite coffee and breakfast sandwich beside her laptop. I had a feeling she would stay in her room until I left, so I wasn’t going to knock or try getting her to talk to me. Breakfast was my first peace offering, which she didn’t say anything about.

Today, I got a bag of pastries from her favorite bakery near the stadium after I finished my morning workout at the team gym. Coach Hoffman went with me because he said his wife had been craving a sweet treat that he had yet to perfect in the kitchen. We left after he showed me pictures of his youngest daughter, Harper, cuddling with his oldest girl, Gemma, and his wife’s service dog Puck. They make a cute family, and it stirs something deep inside me that I usually keep dormant.

A desire for that life. To be called dad. To wear a wedding band. To share my last name with somebody I care about.

The conversation Belle and I had last week comes back to mind the entire drive home. Did she agree to have dinner with Dane not only for work, but because part of her wants to fulfill that same desire? She thinks Dane is a great guy who her mother would approve of. On the outside, he seems like a good fit for her. I may not like it, but I can see it. Would she be willing to look past the one key element she admitted to me?

He’s not you. They aren’t you.

That slammed into me like a freight train, and I didn’t know what to say. Flattery can’t touch me when she admits something so vulnerable while looking so hurt by it. I couldn’t be happy that she compared other men to me if it meant she was miserable. Where does that leave us?

My cyclone of thoughts is broken by my father’s name flashing across the Bluetooth screen. I accept the call because it means not thinking for once, and I need that escape.