Page 19 of Dirty Zone

“Much to everyone’s disappointment.” Sky snorts and rehangs it on the rack.

“You never let anyone dim your light. Not even me, and I did some truly terrible things.” Those memories of pretending not to see him or looking at him funny when he’d wave at me flood my brain and kill my boner.

Sky’s eyes get glassy, and he clears his throat. “We were young.”

“Don’t make excuses for me,” I snap, angry at myself, not him. I’m lucky he’s willing to talk to me and not treat me the way I treated him.

Sky nods. “Your duffle bag is in my room…for clothes…after your shower,” he says tentatively, uncertain I understand. We stare at each other. Not in a standoffish way, but in a curious sort of way.

Before I do something reckless and kiss him, I spin around and stalk to his room.

Chapter 10

Skylar Engelhardt/ Lark Angel

My head’s a mess. I expected more of the same from Mav, excuses and arguments about his reasons. But he surprises me by accepting responsibility. It’s what I’ve dreamed of for years, yet I’m confused.

People change. I’m proof of that. It’s highly possible Mav has grown up too. He’s out to his team for the love of all Maria’s food. A total no-go in our past.

When the shower sputters on and the pipes groan, I enter my room, flopping down on the bed. If I don’t give him a chance, I’ll always wonder, what if. The what-ifs in life hurt worse than rejections. Rejections are a solid sign that something isn’t right. There’s room for improvement, but never knowing leaves a hollow ache of what maybe could have been.

It’s been lonely without him the past four years, though I made the right decision leaving then. But now it’s different, and I can’t spend the next few years crying over a chance I was too much of a scaredy-cat to take.

Mav enters with wet hair and a towel around his waist, going straight for his duffel. He doesn’t glance in my direction, so it’s unclear if he sees me.

He faces the wall as he unzips his bag and pulls out clothes. Mav’s name dies in my throat as he takes the towel off to dry his hair. His muscular ass and torso ripple with his aggressive toweling. He’s broader and more defined than he was. The perfect peach of an ass, more than I could squeeze in my hands.

My quiet whimper echoes like a boom, causing Mav to yell and drop the towel.

Sorry, fucking not sorry.

His hands fly up in a defensive stance as he blushes everywhere. “Sorry. I wasn’t trying to”—he grabs the towel to cover himself—“I didn’t… Fuck me, I’m so sorry.” Mav lets out a long sigh. “I’m used to locker rooms, and I didn’t think.”

I’m speechless but manage to nod. I shield my eyes and make sure I’m not drooling. “Understandable.”

“Making you uncomfortable is the last thing I want to do.” He dresses.

A damn shame.

“I’m going to quit while I’m behind and get the hell out of here before you throw me out.” He re-zips everything and stands. “Thanks again.”

“You don’t have to thank me,” I mumble, following him out into the hall. “I’ll walk you out.”

“Afraid I’ll get lost and take Maria’s delicious food?” He nudges me.

It’s ridiculous, but I don’t want him to leave. Like, if he goes, I’ll be missing my chance and won’t get another one. There are no foreseeable circumstances under which we’ll run into each other again. Not unless I ask.

“I’m kidding,” he says with worry.

“You should take the food. Maria made it for you, and she spoils me with her cooking more days than not.” I lead him to the kitchen and remove the containers from the fridge for him.

He’s changed in ways I haven’t given him enough credit for. Old Mav disregarded me when I said no. He’d blow up my phone or sneak over to my house when he needed to see me. But if I needed him and it wasn’t convenient for him, no was a solid no.

Since the bachelor party, he’s respected my boundaries, listened and apologized.

“That’s a lot to carry,” he says, as my shaking hand reaches out with the food.

“Of course you’re not going to carry this on the subway.” I roll my eyes at myself.