Rewind It Back (Windy City, #5)(30)

It’s strange. I’ve known that for a long time now. I’ve known that any kind of cordial, working relationship we might be able to form, any kind of tolerance for one another, will never come close to the way we used to be together. But still, it doesn’t feel great to hear that confirmed from the other party involved.

He’s quiet for a moment before he admits, “I don’t know how to treat you anymore.”

“I don’t either.”

“So much has happened between us and when I’m around you, I can’t help but bring it up. I haven’t once mentioned you or anything about us growing up in Boston together since moving here, and suddenly you’re in my life again and it’s the only thing on my mind.”

Well . . . ouch.

He must notice me wince.

“Fuck, not like that.” He takes a step towards me, hands held out before he, once again, slips them into his pockets. “Well, no. It’s exactly like that, I guess.” His expression is apologetic. “What I’m saying is that for so long, I tried to pretend as if we didn’t happen because it hurt to think about you. It hurt to talk about you. And now, I can’t stop thinking or talking about the past because you’re here and it feels nostalgic.” He closes his eyes briefly, pausing his rambling for a second. “I’m still mad at you, Hallie, but I also don’t want to spend the next however many months trying to be a dick to you. It doesn’t feel right.”

That, surprisingly, makes my lips twitch with a grin.

He narrows his gaze at me, but I watch the smile start to stretch on his own mouth. “Don’t laugh at me, Hal.”

“I knew you were trying your hardest to be mean.” I chuckle. “It needs some work, by the way. You trying to be a dick. Lacks consistency.”

That boyish smile turns up on the corners of his lips. “I know.”

It feels like it’s my turn to be honest.

“I’m not used to being around you and us not getting along,” I tell him. “It’s throwing me off balance, trying to figure out how this is going to work.”

“I don’t think it is going to work.”

Shit.

Sure, in the heat of the moment this afternoon I thought about calling it quits, but that doesn’t help me stomach the fact that Rio is firing me.

“If we continue like this, I mean. I don’t think it’s going to work if we continue like this.”

“You want to replace me on the project.”

Rio’s head rears back. “What? No. No, I don’t want to replace you. I want to start over.”

“Start over?”

Those green eyes meet the ground with a bit of shyness. “If you want.”

“But you hate me, remember?”

His attention immediately meets mine, glare hard. “I don’t hate you. Hurt, yes. But I could never hate you, Hallie.”

My lips part to say something, but then close when I can’t find words.

There’s that heaviness settling in again, the way it so often does between us now, but I decide to not allow it. We used to have fun together without all this tension living between us.

I hold my hand out to shake his, and his eyes trail it suspiciously.

“Hi. I’m Hallie Hart.”

There’s this moment of déjà vu from the first time we ever met, when I was eleven and he was twelve, and he was just happy to have kids his age living next door.

I can tell he feels it too when he’s staring at my hand with confusion, but then realization dawns and a knowing grin slides across his lips. “You don’t have to tell everyone your first and last name,” he says, the same way my brother did all those years ago.

“I like it.”

He slips his hand into mine and the electrifying slide of his palm against my own acts as a reminder that we haven’t intentionally touched in years. Nothing about it feels friendly or professional, especially when the pad of his thumb slides across my knuckle in a gentle stroke.

“I like it too,” he says.

My hand is still in his when he runs that same thumb over the soft skin of the inside of my wrist before letting it go.

Something strange happens in my stomach at that. Good God, are those butterflies? No, no they’re not because there’s no way I could feel any sort of excitement around this man again. I’m simply mistaken because it’s been so long since I’ve felt butterflies. Six years to be exact.

He stretches his hand out again for me to shake. “So, what do you say? For the sake of my house and your job, should we try to be friends?”

Friends. I could laugh. Seems an impossible stretch from where we are now.

This time it’s me eyeing his outstretched hand. Slowly, I put my palm in his again, and contrary to the last, this handshake is quick and friendly.

“Friends,” I agree.

Feels wrong. Tastes like a lie.

“So, what’s next for us?” he asks.

What’s next for us?

“With the house, I mean.”

Oh.

“Well, we do need to retry that meeting from today. I had some important things I needed to go over with you. And”—I look towards his place—“I’ll need to do a walk-through of the house soon.”

He quickly nods. “You want to see the house. My house.”