Total pages in book: 103
Estimated words: 100713 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 504(@200wpm)___ 403(@250wpm)___ 336(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 100713 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 504(@200wpm)___ 403(@250wpm)___ 336(@300wpm)
“We will, Pop,” said Beckett.
Later, while he waited for his dad to get ready for bed and I was listening for Elliott’s shower to go off upstairs, Beckett went into the kitchen and opened the fridge. I followed him, putting my arms around him from behind.
“I’m so proud of you,” I told him. “That was incredible. And so fun to watch.”
He laughed as he patted my wrist and pulled out a bottle of water. “Thanks. Are you thirsty?”
“Only for you.”
He glanced down at me over his shoulder as he shut the fridge. “Good. But you have to let me shower first. I don’t even want to know what I smell like right now.”
“Like a man,” I said, sniffing dramatically. “Like hard work. Like victory.”
He grinned, leaning back against the counter as he took off the cap. “I’ll take it.”
I hopped up on the counter opposite him. “You know, I was thinking. You should let your dad play in one of those games.”
He looked at me like I was nuts and took a long drink. “He’d get hurt.”
“No, he wouldn’t. It wouldn’t be for real—just one time at bat or playing whatever position he likes to play. It would make him feel so good.”
He studied me, his lips tipping up. “You’re so good to him.”
I shrugged. “We’re friends.”
“You’re going to break his heart when you leave, you know.”
My heartbeat quickened, but I laughed it off. “He’ll forget all about me once I’m gone.”
Beckett shook his head. “Never. Take it from me, Maddie Blake. There’s no forgetting about you.”
I couldn’t breathe. Our eyes were locked, and a thousand words were stuck in my throat.
Come here. Take me in your arms.
I don’t want to leave. Tell me not to go.
Even though it seems impossible, just say you want me in your life.
Say I make you believe in the possibility of forever.
But he said nothing, just lifted the bottle of water to his mouth again.
I hopped off the counter. “I should check on Elliott. Make sure he’s out of the shower so you at least have some hot water left.”
“Yeah, I should check on Dad too.” He finished the water and opened the garage door to toss the bottle in the bin. “Will I see you upstairs?”
I smiled at him, but it felt oddly forced. “Of course.”
That night, I went to his room as usual, tiptoeing across the hall in the dark, closing his door behind me, slipping into his warm, soft sheets.
He wrapped me in his arms and made me feel beautiful and desired—even needed. He put his mouth all over my body. He clung to me like he’d never let go. He moved his body over mine in ways that were both tender and savage, fluid and jagged, generous and greedy. And when we came together, I took as much pleasure in his orgasm as I did in my own.
But as we lay there afterward, our breath still quick, our limbs still tangled, I felt something new beneath the unadulterated joy.
The cool edge of fear.
What did you expect? This is what happens when you play house like a little girl. You forget it’s imaginary. You start to believe it’s real.
I tried to shake it off by staying in the moment and focusing on what was right here—the beat of Beckett’s heart, the smell of his skin, the warmth of his body on mine.
But the unease continued to ripple outward inside me, like a stone had been tossed into still waters.
Go ahead and live in the moment. It doesn’t matter—because even in this moment, you’re falling for him. Every time you come to him this way, you’re giving him another little piece of your heart to break, and soon there won’t be anything left to salvage.
I squeezed my eyes shut, as if total darkness could block the voice from my head.
You can pretend this is all in fun. You can act like you’ll be fine when you leave. You can even tell lies—to him and to yourself—about not wanting any promises. But mark my words . . . that’s all they are. Lies.
A couple minutes later, I squirmed a little, and Beckett moved off me. “You okay?”
“Yeah.”
Lie.
“You sure?”
“I just don’t want to fall asleep.”
Lie.
He rolled onto his back and opened his arms. “Stay with me a little while longer,” he coaxed. “We won’t fall asleep.”
God, I wanted to. But something in my gut was telling me to go. “I better not. I’m really tired tonight.”
Lie.
“Oh.” He paused. “Okay.”
Quickly I leaned over and kissed his lips. “Night.”
“Night.”
Ignoring the tightness in my throat, I slid out of his bed, put my pajamas back on, and snuck out, leaving his door ajar.
Back in my room, I allowed myself to give in and cry, muffling my sobs in my pillow. I told myself I was acting like a child, weeping for no reason, but after a couple minutes, I felt better.