“Maybe . . .” He sighed. “Maybe I’m saving me. Or the old me. I don’t know. It’s like . . . this sixteen-year-old version of me is standing on the other side of some glass, wanting to know life turns out okay even though he’s had shit up to then. Like, that promise that life is better is gonna keep him from making the bad choices later. And me being honest and putting it out there is my way of telling that kid it gets better.”

Okay, that worked. Reagan pushed the heels of her hands into her eyes to keep from bursting into tears. “Why did I have to find you? I wasn’t ready for you.”

She jerked when she felt hands touch her knees, but she didn’t look. Couldn’t look, or the tears would flow freely.

“I don’t think you have to be ready to meet the person you will love. But it happens anyway, and you have to be willing. And I love you.”

She choked on a laugh. It was too much.

“I love that you wear these uptight clothes and those weird bun things in your hair to look all prim and businesslike, but you still wear your sexy heels. I love that you wear those blue slippers Marianne bought you, even when she’s not around, because you promised to. I love that you threw your all into your job, and it broke your heart to lose it, because that meant you were all in.”

She felt his fingers push a strand of hair behind her ear. “You believed it wasn’t me, even after hearing my past. So I’m guessing, even though you might not like me very much right now, you love me, too.”

“You suck,” she whispered. “I was supposed to say it.”

He gently pried her hands away from her eyes. She probably looked like a red-eyed wreck, but he smiled and pretended not to notice. “I’m all ears.”

“I love you,” she whispered. He kissed her softly, and she said it again, though there was no way he could have heard her. She let her fingers roam up his jawline, across his brows, through his short hair, back down to the back of his neck to pull him in tighter.

After another minute of nerve-firing kisses, Reagan pulled away. “This is great, but it doesn’t solve the problem of me being fired. I mean, knowing you love me is fantastic, but I’ve gotta have rent money.”

“You and your shoes will have plenty of space, I promise.” Greg sat back on his heels and reached into his pocket, pulling out a folded sheet of paper. “I wrote down as much as I could, from my side of things. If you want to go ahead and use this for quotes or whatever you need, feel free. I figured you’d want to make it more newsy though.”

“‘Newsy’?” she said, raising one brow and unfolding the paper.

“Hey, it could be a word.”

She quickly scanned the sheet. “This is all the stuff you told me. The whole . . . oh, Greg.” Her eyes watered. “Are you sure?”

“I’m sure. It’s good for you, but it’s definitely the right thing for me.”

She sighed and refolded it. “I’m not sure this is the right job for me, honestly. Maybe I shouldn’t even fight to keep it. I could . . .” She raised a shoulder. “I don’t know, get a job as a cashier at the Piggly Wiggly.”

“Reagan Robilard.” His voice had some snap to it, and she looked at him in surprise. “You did not come three thousand miles to be a cashier. Maybe this isn’t your dream job after all. Most people don’t find it the first time out. But you’re not giving up. You’re not walking away from this job having been fired. Get your job back, and we can talk about the rest as it comes.” He started to smile, slowly. “Besides, after the season’s over, I’m hoping you’ll come back with me, anyway.”

“Come back . . . to California?” She blinked. “Seriously?”

“Hell yeah.” He kissed her again. “I don’t want to be away from you. Just think about it.”

He left to head to the kitchen for some water, and her mind started to dance.

*   *   *

TWO days later, Greg pulled open the door to Back Gate, letting Reagan in ahead of him. From the back, he heard their friends let out a wild greeting, all raising a glass.

Marianne and Kara jumped up and ran to hug Reagan. “Sit down! Sit, sit, sit,” Kara said, dragging Reagan with them to their table. “We ordered you a drink, we weren’t going to wait.”

“That’s fine.” Flushed and grinning, he watched Reagan sit and lean into her friend’s side hug. He loved seeing her so damn happy.

“So?” Marianne leaned forward, arms crossed over the table. “How’d the meeting go?”

Reagan glanced between her friends, then Brad and Graham, before landing her gaze on him. “Do you want to tell it?”

“Hell no, it’s your story. You tell it.”

“Someone tell it!” Kara said, throwing her hands up in exasperation. “I told the babysitter I’d only be gone two hours.”

Graham opened his mouth to speak, then seemed to think better of the idea and shut it again.

“Well, I . . . oh, thank you.” Reagan paused to smile at the waitress, who set her drink down on a napkin.

The group groaned.

She took a small sip of the light beer and closed her eyes in bliss. “Mmm, good choice, ladies.”

Brad growled. “How the hell do you put up with this?” he asked.

Greg just smiled and shook his head.

“So, I showed up, my article in hand, at the office. My supervisor didn’t want to see me at first.”

“Asshole,” Graham muttered. Kara nodded in agreement.

“But I convinced him it was worth his time. He got all excited I’d ‘pried’ the story out of Greg.” She grinned at that. “Pried. Right. Anyway, so I say that it’s a good one, and I’d love to let him have it, since it would help the team. And I’m a team player,” she added seriously.

“Of course. Go on,” Greg encouraged.

“But when he just held out his hand, and I didn’t give it over, he got all flustered. I said it was conditional on having my job back. And he got frustrated and said this wasn’t how team players worked. And when I reminded him I got kicked off the ‘team,’ he got angry.”

“Nice,” Brad murmured.

“So after some negotiating, he agreed I would come back, just for the rest of the boxing season. Once that’s over, he can find someone else for the next season. He’s right, this isn’t where I belong in the long haul.” She looked at Greg then, and his heart swelled. “I’m not sure exactly where I do belong, geographically, but I think I’m not on the right coast.”

“Right coast,” Kara repeated, confused a moment. “You mean, east versus west coast? Oh,” she added, looking between him and Reagan. “Oh!”

“I might end up seeing what my prospects are like in California.” She shrugged, as if no big deal, and took another sip. “This really is tasty.”

“And that’s her version of a mic drop, ladies and gentlemen.” Graham clapped, startling a few patrons at surrounding tables, causing them all to laugh. “Well played, Ms. Athlete Liaison.”

“Thank you, thank you.” Reagan nodded her head regally at the congratulations. “So for my first job out of school . . . I wouldn’t call it an unqualified success, but I definitely got more out of it than I anticipated.”

“Experience?” Mariane asked, eyes twinkling. Brad nuzzled at her temple.

“Oh, definitely.” Reagan nodded quickly.

“New and exciting opportunities,” Kara added, and Graham stared at her so intently—not that Kara noticed—that Greg felt a little drop in his own belly for his friend’s intense longing.

“No doubt.” Reagan squeezed Greg’s knee under the table. She turned to look at him. “And a new appreciation for what the word ‘independent’ looks like in practice, not just theory.”

“They’re gonna kiss now,” Graham anticipated. “Let’s talk amongst ourselves while they’re over there being gross.”

“Ignore them,” Greg said under his breath, pulling her chair closer to his so he could give her a long, slow kiss. Without breaking contact with Reagan, he flipped off his groaning friends.

“Love you,” Reagan whispered as they pulled an inch apart. His heart clenched, and he prayed he never learned to take those words for granted. “Now, how long before we can get out of here? I have a lot of shoes to pack.”