Not in Love by Ali Hazelwood

Eli could recognize a setup when he saw one, just like he knew the value of a strategic retreat. And yet he closed the distance between them until all that separated them was a thin plexiglass barrier. And the million things he needed from her that she might never be willing to give.

“What is this?” he asked. He hadn’t heard from her in over a week, and her silence following their last conversation had been answer enough. It wasn’t her fault if she didn’t want what he wanted—in fact, it was part of what he’d fallen for, the messiness, the unflinching honesty. But he did need some space to come to terms with what the rest of his life would look like.

“Rue,” he asked again, a touch impatient. “What’s going on?”

“Would you like to skate?”

His eyebrow rose, but her expression remained sphinxlike. “Did Dave put you up to this?”

“No. But I did ask him to text you.”

“Why?”

“Please, Eli. Will you put those on”—she pointed at his skates—“and join me?” She looked calm, but it was the fastest he’d ever heard her speak.

“I thought we agreed that skating together is not what our relationship is about?”

“Please,” she said softly. Because everything, everything about her was soft, even her hard shell, and instead of what his response should have been—Rue, I’ll do whatever you ask, but please take pity on me because I don’t know if I can take more of this—he peeled off his shoes and tied his skates, stepping into the rink without bothering to hide the tension in his muscles.

He was on the ice, his first home. Standing across from the woman he loved, whose response to him declaring his love to her had been—nothing. Nothing at all. As much as he wanted to hope that she’d lured him here to announce that she could possibly see a future in which she loved him back, it was more likely—

Oh, shit. He knew the reason she’d wanted him here. She was going to spend the next twenty minutes dutifully spelling out her gratitude toward him for helping her fix her patent situation.

If she offered him a thank-you blow job, he was going to wail like a fucking baby.

“You’re welcome,” he preempted.

Rue’s glance was confused in the jagged silence.

“That’s why we’re here? So you can thank me for the patent.”

She bit into her lower lip, and Eli would have drained his bank account to buy the right to pull it from her teeth with his thumb. “I suppose I should do that, yeah. Can we . . . ?” She gestured at the ice.

Sure. Why not. If they skated side by side, he wouldn’t have to look at her while she told him how much she appreciated his helpful assistance.

“I should have texted you. I didn’t mean to ambush you.” They were already moving in unison. Like they were meant to be, or some shit. “But you wanted to skate together, and I . . . I thought you might appreciate a grand gesture.”

“Yeah?” He shook his head. “Not sure you and I are grand gesture types, Rue.”

“And yet you’ve done so many for me.”

“Have I?”

“Over and over.” She laughed, silent. “You pretty much stole all my options. I don’t know how to do something that is even remotely like returning your most prized possession to you. You’ve set me up for failure.”

This was nice. Lovely, even. But gratitude was the last thing Eli wanted from her. “I appreciate this, Rue. Really. But I didn’t do this to hear how thankful you are—”

“Well, it’s a lot. But since you already know, we can skip that part and move on to the next topic.”

Thank fuck. “Which would be?”

“An apology.” Her voice was limpid. She surprised him by flipping around and skating backward in front of him, as if eye contact with him was crucial for what she was about to say. “You asked me to trust you, and I treated you like you were the kind of person who’d screw me over, even when you’ve been nothing but truthful with me. My behavior never reflected that. So, I’m sorry, Eli.”

The apology was, if possible, more depressing than the gratitude. “Rue, you had just found out about Florence. I think some temporary lack of faith in humankind is to be expected.” He smiled reassuringly and stopped with a precise movement. So did she, just a handful of feet ahead. “If you don’t mind, I’m going to head home—”

“I do.”

He cocked his head. “Excuse me?”

“I do mind. I have more things to say.” Eli felt a burst of warm, tentative hope, until she added, “What you did for me, with my brother.”

He really needed to stop fooling himself. “That was the lawyers, but I’ll happily pass along your thanks. Have a good—”

“Stop.” Her fingers closed around the sleeve of his shirt, tugging at it. He felt her knuckles brush against his skin, her touch as electric as ever. “Please, Eli. Let me speak. Five minutes.”

She sounded more vulnerable than ever, and was beautiful in a way that made his lungs struggle to hold on to air, and—what the hell. Maybe being near her was a sharp ache, but loving someone and saying no to them didn’t seem to go well together. He could give her five minutes out of the rest of his life. He could give her anything. “Of course.” He began skating again.