Jade Nash is a giver.
She gives up on hope.
She gives up on love.
She gives up on the truth.
What Jade doesn't anticipate is giving in to uprooting the past, especially when she vowed to never let it affect her future.
Seth McCullough is a breaker.
He breaks promises.
He breaks records.
He breaks hearts.
What Seth doesn't anticipate is breaking the cycle, especially when he vowed not to, because that would mean breaking the rules.
What a Tease...
A hand firmly gripped my upper arm. “I’ve been looking for you,” a male said sternly over my shoulder. “Sit. We need to talk.”
My eyes flicked down at the vacant seat, but I didn’t submit to Miles’s request as I yanked my arm away. “I think you spoke enough for both of us at the pool.”
“Fine. Stand. I don’t care.” He paused. “Do you know what your problem is, Nash?”
I sat down with a look of defiance to let him know he didn’t control the situation. “Aside from the arrogant dick who just ruined my night, I don’t have a problem.”
“You’re destructive.” Miles’s eyebrows pulled down and together while he straddled the chair across from me, his eye contact refusing to break away from mine.
A ball of laughter burst from my mouth before I could stop it. “Me? I’m the town massage therapist for fuck’s sake. I fix people.”
Miles pulled a familiar, wrinkled cocktail napkin from his pocket and tried to flop it flat aggressively with a few flicks of his wrist. He gave up and pinned it down with his near-full coffee cup. Dark liquid sloshed up over the side. “Not big enough, anyway,” he muttered.
“For what? Your ego?” I rolled my eyes, doing my best to tune out Jewel’s FoolishGames wailing on the jukebox.
Miles’s gaze locked with mine again, frustration teeming behind near-black irises. Without looking down at the table, he reached for a checkered paper placemat and held it at eye level. “See this? It’s me before I met you. Pristine. Zero issues.”
I did my best to ignore the pained tension creeping through my shoulder.
“And this,” he crumpled the placemat tightly into a ball, the loud crinkling sound drawing attention from surrounding customers, “is me after I walked through the doors of your office. But no matter how much,” he flattened the paper on the tabletop with a forceful palm, “I try to fix it by ignoring you, it’s not the same.” The placemat had deep creases and wrinkles when he held it up, the top corner flopping forward. “In some jacked up way, you keep ruining me.”
My face heated and I hated that Miles McCullough got under my skin. “That’s where you’re wrong.” I snatched another mat from a nearby place setting. “This? It’s still you. Two-dimensional. Disposable. But there’s a difference.” I carefully ripped the paper, leaving a one-inch piece connecting the two halves together. “Try and deny it to make yourself feel better, but you were already ruined and hanging on by a thread when we met.”
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