Page 8 of Keeping a Warrior

Except the woman now sitting at the table had handed him his ring back, packed a bag and hurried out of his life a little over a month ago. It’d been a mutual decision—in theory.

“Lani—”

“Guess we gotta quit meeting like this, huh?” Lani’s voice was quiet, rueful. “Should we blame it on the wine?” She waved her hand toward the empty bottle in the sink, bound for the recycle bin.

“Ah, babe.” Rhys leaned down to kiss the top of her head before pouring them each a steaming mug—a dollop of cream for him, an avalanche for her. What could they blame it on? Habit? Familiarity? Sheer stubbornness?

Rhys snorted to himself. How about all three?

After all, they’d been together almost their entire lives. Nearly every memory Rhys had included Lani in some form or another. She’d been his childhood playmate, his best friend. His family.

He studied her as she sipped her coffee, her eyes glued to the phone on the table in front of her, the awkwardness between them hanging almost tangibly in the air.

We don’t have anything in common anymore, do we? And I’m not sure we ever did.

As if reading his thoughts, Lani heaved an unhappy sigh. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have come over.”

Rhys knew why she had. The anniversary of her brother Tyler’s death was approaching, a time of year that brought Lani’s soul-deep pain roaring to the surface and catapulting her back to that day when a fourteen-year-old girl’s life had changed forever. A girl who’d suddenly needed Rhys more than he’d been equipped to cope with, but because he loved her, he’d tried. For ten years now, he’d tried.

His heart aching, Rhys extended his hand across the table, and when she laid her fingers across his he gave them a squeeze. “You know I’ll always be here for you, Lee-Lee, but it’s these drive-by booty calls. They’re starting to hurt too much.”

“I know.”

It wasn’t just her fault. His face burned when Rhys thought of the daily texts he’d been sending her, with the rationale that “ex-fiancée” didn’t have to mean ex-friend.

Except maybe it did—maybe it had to, since it seemed they were both stuck in a rut neither one of them could get out of.

Rhys remained slumped in his seat as she got up and poured her mostly untouched coffee down the drain. “I’m gonna go.”

“You should probably take that with you.” He lifted his chin toward the M&M’s mug, digging his nails into his palms at the look of sadness that flitted across her face. She’d left it at his apartment on purpose, he knew—a piece of herself, a reminder of happier times.

Now it was just another way they were each keeping one foot in the past.

Grabbing her purse, Lani stuffed the mug inside, then smoothed her hands down the front of her wrinkled black dress.

“Time for the walk of shame, huh?” Her voice was husky with unshed tears.

Rhys’s throat tightened in response. “I’m leaving on that month-long training trip tonight, so I promise not to text you while we’re gone. Okay? Let’s do the giving-each-other-space thing for real this time.”

Since that’s what we agreed to. Not this half-assed shit.

“Okay.” Another beat of awkward silence before Lani leaned down to kiss him on the cheek. “Bye.”

Then she was gone.

With a groan, Rhys dropped his head onto his folded arms, until the sound of his phone buzzing broke into his misery. He flopped his hand out and pulled it to him, answering with a grunted, “What?”

“It happened again, didn’t it?”

“Aaron, don’t bust my balls—”

“Someone’s got to. Is she gone?”

“Just now. Is she on the phone with Sarah?”

“Yep. Right on cue.”

“Oh, God.” Rhys groaned again. “I’m sorry, man. We never meant to put you guys in the middle.”