Total pages in book: 136
Estimated words: 131821 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 659(@200wpm)___ 527(@250wpm)___ 439(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 131821 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 659(@200wpm)___ 527(@250wpm)___ 439(@300wpm)
Something tells me his decision to leave isn’t just about the time, but I don’t mention that.
“I know. Thank you for coming. Sorry for turning back into the girl I was that night. I thought I had a handle on her, but…well.” I shrug.
Chase nods but sits there for several long moments in silence before rising to his feet. He opens his mouth to say or ask something but seems to change his mind. “We’ll talk soon?”
My eyes grow cloudy, but I agree. “Yeah. Talk soon.”
With that, he walks out the front door, and I lie back where I sit, my eyes closing.
That night at the hospital flashes through my mind, the days, weeks, and months that followed rolling right behind it, and a heaviness settles over me, but somewhere in that stormy cloud of pain and confusion is a tender touch of something else, like silk sewn beneath a weighted blanket.
I thought no one knew what today was, and I didn’t want the worry—or pity—of mentioning it.
But someone did know.
He knew. He knew and he came.
“Just in case you needed me.” His raspy, raw voice flows through me, bringing the warmth I’ve missed back to my shredded soul. Of course the moment it does, guilt rides right in like liquid nitrogen and turns it to ice.
Fighting a scream, I punch at the carpet beneath me, my teeth clenching as I throw my hands through my hair.
Chase was freshly showered in sweats and a hoodie.
Mason still had his cleats on his feet.
He came straight here. He came for me because he knew how hard today would be.
The look on his face when he saw Chase will haunt me endlessly.
Mason came just in case I needed him.
Chase came because I asked him to.
My bottom lip trembles, and I wish desperately that things were different.
I have to remind myself this is for the best. Self-preservation at its finest.
Or worst, depending on how you look at it.
Maybe now he’ll realize I’m not worth the wait or the trouble. He has his whole life ahead of him. I’m on the cusp of eighteen with a baby and a questionable future. He’s the starting quarterback for Avix University and an NFL hopeful.
A smile graces my lips, a tear slipping down my cheek. God, I’m so proud of him.
He’s living the dream he shared with me, and I couldn’t be happier for the man who brought me back to life without my realizing it.
You don’t deserve happiness. Not when you stole that chance from Deaton.
Brick after brick falls on my chest, crushing my lungs until I’m gasping and falling onto my hands and knees.
I pant and cry, and eventually…I pass out.
Mason
Coach blows the whistle, and I drop back as my receiver zips down the field, running his route. He does a little stutter step, as if juking a defender, and the ball sails from my fingertips. I watch as he slants right, the ball dropping straight into his arms. A perfect fucking pass.
I step back, and my alternate slides in, my lips pinching tightly as he does the same, and then I roll in again. This receiver is slower than the other, his footwork not as smooth, so I hold a split second longer, then fire.
Catch.
“Better hope your line is strong, Johnson.” Alister Howl, the wannabe me taunts, stepping into the pocket. “Wouldn’t want you to get sacked and break some more ribs. Or was it the shoulder?”
Before I know I’m doing it, I’m jerking toward him, but my jersey is caught around the neck, and I’m tugged back.
My eyes snap up, staring at the familiar green ones through the dark blue face mask.
“Don’t.” Chase snaps around his mouthpiece, scowling from me to the new fucking punk. “Focus.”
I scoff, tear away, and slam my left shoulder into Alister hard enough to make him stumble.
“Bitch,” he hisses, looking away when Coach’s head snaps our way.
The asshole has an issue with me, and he made it obvious on day one, but hey, I’m the guy he has to beat if he wants a spot on the roster that’s worth a damn. Assuming that’s what’s got his jockstrap twisted so tight.
Again, a receiver runs his route, my feet moving without thought, working on muscle memory.
Money shot.
I shuffle back, swiftly pressing my chest into Alister’s as he slides forward. “Don’t worry, backup boy. My line is fucking solid.”
He glares, angrily snagging a ball off the cart and stepping up again.
Chase flies down the field like a demon on wheels, nailing his route, but Alister misjudges his speed and distance. Chase is standing there waiting for the ball to drop for a full second.
Alister spits on the ground, and I know Chase is smirking around his mouthpiece.
He’s always got my back.
My glare is instant, images of last night flashing through my mind, and I clench my teeth.