Heartless

by Jennifer Sucevic

  Her expression turns sympathetic. “It’s crappy luck that you got stuck working with Hunter.”

  Ugh. I don’t even want to think about it.

  “I know.” Reluctantly I admit, “We’re getting together next Tuesday to hammer out some of the details.” I point to the book in front of me. I’ve been perusing the chapters to find topics that seem interesting. “I’m trying to do some of the leg work now so we can spend as little time together as possible.”

  “Did you talk to the professor? Maybe you can get reassigned a different partner.”

  “I don’t think so. Dr. Bennet doesn’t strike me as the flexible type.”

  “Oh…you have Bennet?” She grimaces which reconfirms all my thoughts about the woman. “I had her sophomore year and she failed a guy after he was diagnosed with mono. She wouldn’t allow him to turn in late work.”

  Yup, I believe it. A student could die in that class and she would probably have an F stamped on his transcript.

  “I’ve come to terms with it,” I sigh.

  Sort of.

  Which is precisely why I’m doing all this research now. That way, I’ll be able to give Hunter a few options, we can divvy up the tasks, and never get together again. That’s my plan moving forward.

  And it’s a good one, right?

  Hunter doesn’t want to be partnered up with me anymore than I want to be with him. I’m trying to make this situation as easy as possible for both of us. It would be nice if he met me halfway instead of trying to make the circumstances more difficult.

  I glance at my phone surprised to find that two hours have already slipped by. Maybe Lanie and I should study at the library more often. The last time we tried working at the townhouse, my bestie took a break midway through a study session to make snickerdoodles. And a pan of brownies. Then we scarfed them down. Sure, Jax helped, but still…

  It was bad.

  When Lanie stresses, she goes into baking mode. Unfortunately, she’s really good at whipping up cookies, cupcakes, and brownies. I’ve already packed on a couple of pounds.

  Would you like to guess who’s a stress eater?

  Yup, this girl. I’m going to have to start working out on a regular basis if Lanie and I are going to live together.

  I pick up my silver water bottle and bring it to my lips before realizing it’s empty. Maybe a walk to the drinking fountain is exactly what I need. Every step counts, right?

  That’s what my fitness tracker keeps telling me.

  As I push away from the table, I shake the container in my hand. “I need a refill, I’ll be back in a few.” Maybe I’ll do a lap around the second floor to get a few more steps in.

  “Okay,” Lanie mutters, staring at her book. “You really should have tried harder to talk me out of a chem degree. These classes are no joke.”

  “Hey, I’m not the one who wants to be a veterinarian.”

  She scrubs a hand over her face. “Think it’s too late to switch majors? I don’t know how I’m going to make it through vet school if every class kicks my ass like this.”

  Lanie is the smartest person I know. She graduated valedictorian of our high school class. If anyone can make it through vet school, it’s this girl. I’m so proud of her. She’s going to do amazing things with her life.

  “Sure, you could switch to something else if you want to tack on another two years of school,” I laugh. “Your parents would love that.”

  “Actually, they would kill me.”

  “Let’s be real, you would never give up your aspirations of being a big animal vet and owning a barn with a dozen or so horses.”

  Her lips quirk at the corners as her dark eyes brighten. “You remember that, huh?”

  “Of course I do. That’s always been the dream, right?”

  She nods, looking less stressed than before.

  “Take a deep breath,” I tell her, “and focus on one chapter at a time.”

  “Good advice, but I’m still making cupcakes when we get home.”

  “No!” I groan. “I can’t deal with anymore baked goods. I’m going to have to buy bigger sized shorts if you don’t knock it off.”

  “Hey,” she says with a shrug, “no one’s force feeding you.”

  “Like I can resist your cupcakes,” I grumble.

  “They are pretty tasty.”

  “Too damn tasty!” I point to her book. “Now get to work. I’ll be back in a couple of minutes.”

  “Fine,” she sighs as I take off.

  A few moments later, I’m weaving my way through the tables that are scattered throughout the second floor. The drinking fountain and bathrooms are located at the far end of the building. Instead of cutting through the stacks, I decide to walk around them. I wasn’t exaggerating about my shorts feeling snug. I’ve been stuffing my face with way too many of Lanie’s tasty treats. And that needs to stop.

  Now.

  Tables and study carols line the perimeter of the spacious area. Hushed tones break the silence. Normally, I would tune out the noise, but a deep chuckle catches my attention and my body goes on high alert. A shiver of unease scampers down my spine.

  Only one person is capable of soliciting that kind of reaction from me. My gaze lands on Hunter’s dark head and I quickly realize he’s not alone. There’s a pretty redhead perched across from him. Even though her back is to me, it’s easy to tell she’s straining toward him as if she can’t bear the distance that separates them.

  A shaft of heartache slices through me, nearly cleaving my body in two. I tell myself Hunter is free to be with whoever he wants, but that doesn’t help. Watching him flirt with other girls cuts deep. I have no right to feel that way, but it doesn’t stop the pain from throbbing through me.

  Every time I catch sight of him, he’s with a different girl. They follow him around campus like lovesick puppies. They crowd around him in class. I’m sure they fill the stands and watch him at practice just like they used to in high school. Even when he was mine, jealousy would eat away at me.

  Now that I have no claim on him, it’s much worse.

  From a distance, I watch as Hunter flashes a panty-dropping smile at the girl across from him. I can almost hear the sigh of pleasure as it falls from her lips.

  It’s disheartening to realize that I’m still in love with him. There doesn’t seem to be anything I can do to kill these feelings. The best I can hope for is that at some point in the near future, I’ll be able to look at him and feel nothing.

  I’m jolted from those thoughts when his gaze cuts to mine. I squeak in mortification before stumbling back a step and ducking behind a tall bookshelf. My back hits the stacks with a loud thump and I wince in pain as the spine of a book jabs my right shoulder blade. I squeeze my eyes tightly closed, wishing there were a way for me to disappear. I need to get out of here before I humiliate myself any further.

  When I open my eyes again, prepared to slink back to my table, I find Hunter looming in front of me. I stifle a gasp. He’s so close that I have to crane my neck to hold his gaze. If I didn’t know him, his size coupled with the ever-present scowl that mars his features would have me shaking in my shoes.

  “What are you doing, Skye?” He cocks his head and narrows his eyes. “Stalking me around campus like a jersey chaser?”

  “Of course not!” I moisten my lips and point in the direction of our table. “Lanie and I are studying by the doctoral dissertations. I had no idea you were here.”

  One dark brow rises as if he doesn’t believe me. “Then why were you staring?” He leans closer and his voice drops, becoming silky. “Is that what you’re into now? You want to watch me with other chicks?” One side of his mouth hitches. “Hey, that’s cool. I don’t mind an audience.”

  Even though his barbed words are meant to wound and embarrass, his physical proximity makes my head swim. I want to shove him away and tell him to go to hell, but I don’t.

  Can’t.

  “I wasn’t staring,” I protest weakly. That’s a lie and
we both know it.

  Hunter smirks and edges closer, forcing me to flatten against the shelf. I flinch as another book digs into my back.

  “Sure, you were.” Before I can refute his words, he reaches out and trails his fingers against the side of my face. “Know what I think?”

  With my lips pressed firmly together, I shake my head.

  His mouth curves into a nasty smile. “I think you still want me.”

  “No.”

  The truth is that I never stopped wanting Hunter, but I’ll be damned if I admit it to him. I’ve had a few boyfriends since our breakup, but none have come close to touching the place he once owned.

  He presses closer, caging me in, before his lips ghost over mine. My nipples harden into stiff little points as he invades my personal space. I’m desperate to conceal the response. No matter how wrong my brain knows it is, my body still wants him.

  I stifle the groan that is desperate to break free, determined to keep the sound buried deep inside. Hunter is probably aware of the effect he’s having on my body, but I refuse to confirm it. If I’ve learned anything in the weeks since my return, it’s that Hunter will use whatever weakness he can find against me.

  “Are you sure about that, Skye?”

  With a deliberateness that is excruciating, his lips stroke over mine without ever quite touching them. The air between us stirs with his movement. It takes every shred of my self-control to remain still.

  “Yes,” I force myself to whisper, “I’m sure.”

  I blink as his warmth disappears and there’s once again an ocean of distance separating us.

  “One of these days I’m going to prove what a little liar you are.” He takes another step away. “But it won’t be this afternoon.” He jerks his head toward the table he’s been studying at. “As you can see, I’ve already got my hands full. You’ll have to take a number and get in line.”

  With that last parting shot, he strides away. Even after he disappears around the corner, I remain frozen in place. What I can’t decide is if I’ve been let off the hook or not. One thing is for certain, whatever is happening between us is only getting started.

  Chapter Seven

  Hunter

  I pull up the long gravel driveway on the outskirts of town. Even though it’s after eight o’clock in the evening, I bypass the house my brother and I grew up in and head straight to the garage. With the amount of time Mason spends there, he should set up a cot and just be done with it already.

  I step through the wide door and into a space large enough to hold three vehicles. There’s a car hoisted on a lift and another with its hood popped open. My brother slides out from beneath the cherry red Camaro when he hears my approaching footsteps.

  “Hey, what are you doing here?” he asks, voice filled with surprise. There’s grease smudged on his cheek and his fingers are covered in it. Even when he scrubs them at the end of the night, they never clean off completely. Guess that’s one of the occupational hazards of being a mechanic.

  I shrug and head to the dinged-up fridge off to the side and grab a beer. “Want one?”

  “Sure. I’ve put in a twelve-hour day. I deserve it.”

  I pull out two Miller Lites and pop the tops before handing one to my brother. He sits up and takes a thirsty swig.

  “Damn,” he sighs, “that hits the spot.”

  I jump onto the long stretch of counter before bringing the bottle to my lips and taking a long pull.

  Mason watches me for a moment and tilts his head. “You got that look on your face, little bro. Spill it.”

  My mouth quirks. I never could get anything past him. The guy knows me too damn well. For the past six years, it’s been the two of us. Our parents died in a boating accident when I was fifteen years old. Since there had only been a small life insurance policy, Mason had to drop out of college at the beginning of his junior year and work full-time. He had spent most of high school employed by a local auto mechanic doing small jobs like changing the oil and tire rotations. Over the years, he’s learned how to do everything from repairing a busted radiator to rebuilding a transmission. Two years ago, Mason branched off on his own and set up shop in the garage on our property. The money has been decent and since I had athletic scholarships to pay for school, we’ve been able to squeak by financially.

  Part of the deal was that once I turned pro, Mason would be free to do whatever he wanted with his life. He could go back to school and finish his business degree.

  I owe everything to my brother. Without his support, I wouldn’t be in the position I am today. I wouldn’t have NFL teams knocking down my door. It was a major pisser when I tore my ACL midway through the season last year. Instead of entering the draft my junior year, I had to put it off and rehab my knee. If I injure it again this season, I’m fucked. No pro team will touch me, and I’ll have to kiss my football career adios.

  Not ready to drop the Skye Sinclair bomb just yet, I ask instead, “What are you going to do next year? You gonna go back to college and finish up your degree?”

  Mason has sacrificed all of his dreams so I could have this opportunity. A lot of times, that guilt eats away at me. I want my brother to be happy and I don’t think he is. How can he be when I’m off at school, playing ball, while he’s stuck in a garage twelve hours a day, fixing other people’s cars?

  He breaks eye contact and tilts the bottle to his lips again before shrugging. “Nah. I got a good thing going here with the business. Once you get drafted and the money starts rolling in, maybe I’ll buy a legit place and hire a couple of people. A few mechanics and someone to run the office. You know damn well I hate paperwork.”

  That comment brings a smile to my lips. But still…

  Before my parents died, owning an auto mechanic shop wasn’t even on the radar. He couldn’t wait to finish up school and get a real job. Working at the garage was nothing more than an ends to a mean, it was something he did after school and in the summers to earn cash.

  Now it’s his future?

  I don’t buy it. Mason is settling. I hate that I’m the reason he didn’t finish college and isn’t chasing down his dreams. He lives and breathes this garage. Over the years, I’ve become his number one priority. Women have come and gone from his life. They never stick around for too long once they realize how far down the totem pole they are. I may not understand everything there is to know about the opposite sex, but I’m pretty sure they want to be more than the hole you fuck at the end of a long day before rolling over and falling asleep. And for Mason, that’s what his love life amounts to. A couple of women have given him ultimatums. It didn’t work out so well for them.

  I drain the remainder of my beer and pick at the label with my thumbnail. “Yeah, I know. All I’m saying is that maybe you should keep your options open. Go talk to someone at the university and see what you’d have to do to graduate.”

  Mason scrubs a hand over his face. “I can’t see going back to school after all these years.”

  I snort. The guy is twenty-five years old. “It hasn’t been that long.”

  “Trust me, it’s been long enough.”

  Before I can say anything more on the subject, Mason throws up a hand to stop me. “You don’t need to worry, bro. I’m good. Let’s wait and see what happens down the road. For now, I’m going to stick with this.”

  My shoulders slump. I have the feeling he’s telling me what I want to hear so I’ll shut up. “But you don’t have to. That’s all I’m trying to tell you.”

  “Right,” he says, a hint of bitterness creeping into his voice as he pops to his feet. “The world is my oyster and all that bullshit. I got it. Now, tell me what’s going on with you. There’s a big game coming up.”

  I nod. The only time Mason takes a break is when his ass is at the stadium, watching me on the field.

  We’re playing Kentucky on Saturday, which is exactly what I need to focus on. I should be watching game film and mentally running through plays. Instead, all I can think about
is Skye. For years, I’ve been able to push her to the back of my brain. Now she’s front and center where she doesn’t belong and there doesn’t seem to be a damn thing I can do about it.

  “Hunt?”

  My head snaps up and I refocus on Mason who is now frowning at me. “Yeah?”

  “I asked if you’ve been watching game film.”

  “Yup. Watched an hour after practice this afternoon.”

  “You better watch out for number eighty-two. Not only is he big, he’s fast. And he likes to take down the QB as often as he can.”

  “I know.”

  “Conway better do his damn job out there and protect your ass.”

  “He will, Mase. Don’t worry about it.”

  “Can’t help but worry.” He looks pointedly at my knee. “The last thing we need is another injury.”

  My mouth thins at the reminder. It’s my single greatest fear and what keeps me up at night. There’s still a twinge of pain if I move it the wrong way, but I’ll be damned if I say one word about it to my coaches or trainers. My focus is getting through the next couple of months and showing the scouts that I’ve made a miraculous recovery during the offseason. Then my career will be back on track where it belongs. “That won’t happen again.”

  We fall into silence before Mason shifts his weight and crosses his arms over his chest. “If you’re not worried about Kentucky, then what’s the problem? Spit it out already. I’ve got a solid three hours of work left before I can call it a night. I need to get back to it.”

  I huff out an exaggerated breath and realize there’s no point in procrastinating. “Skye is back in town.”

  Mason stills as his eyes widen. Whatever he was expecting me to say, that wasn’t it. I almost feel bad for him. The guy looks like he’s been smacked in the face with a two-by-four. “Skye Sinclair?”

  For the first time in weeks, a chuckle rumbles up from my chest. “You know another girl named Skye?”