Total pages in book: 121
Estimated words: 115308 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 577(@200wpm)___ 461(@250wpm)___ 384(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 115308 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 577(@200wpm)___ 461(@250wpm)___ 384(@300wpm)
The kiss was fucking hot. I was more than a wee bit proud of it. And I might have been smug and elated about how into that kiss Maia was, if she was still talking to me.
Okay, it wasn’t like she wasn’t talking to me.
But ever since she’d had a panic attack at the club and I’d taken her home and looked after her until she fell asleep, Maia had been distant. She’d erected a wall between us.
I glanced at Callan, considering asking him for advice. Then I reconsidered on the basis I didn’t want to come off as being a cling-on fiancé. Not that Callan would … well, we took the piss out of each other all the time, but we knew when to be serious and there for each other too.
My mate side-eyed me. “You want to ask me something?”
Grimacing, I hesitated.
“Is it a relationship thing?”
I nodded.
Callan turned toward me, shrugging. “Hit me with it.”
Ach, fine. “Has Beth ever … like … opened up to you and then totally shut you out afterward?” I scrubbed a hand over my beard, feeling weirdly vulnerable. I did not like to be confused when it came to the female sex. It was not normal for me. Growing up with a mum and sister, I thought I understood women better than most blokes. I was starting to realize, however, I’d gotten most of my information from Ainsley, and my big sister was quite possibly the most laid-back, commitment-phobic lassie I knew.
For instance, Ainsley had never called me out on the flirting shit because she was the same. If she found a person attractive, of any gender, she was all up in their space with the flirting.
My guidepost for women was me with tits.
Turned out that wasn’t the best guidepost.
Maia … she had me in fucking knots.
Callan shrugged. “Maybe. I mean, Beth was pretty closed off at first because she thought I was only interested in sex. Maia has your ring on her finger. Why would she do that? Unless … she’s embarrassed by whatever she opened up to you about? Some folk hate feeling vulnerable.”
“Aye, that’s what I was thinking. Doesnae mean it doesnae fuck me off she thinks she cannae be vulnerable with me,” I replied, my accent thickening with my irritation.
I thought Maia and I were finally making some headway.
The kiss in the club was real.
She started to believe it when I told her how gorgeous she was, how much I wanted her.
And when she let me take care of her after her panic attack, I thought I was finally in.
But since then, she’d dodged seeing me, sent me one-word responses to my texts, and was avoiding my calls. I started to feel like a few of the lassies I’d slept with who’d gotten the wrong idea about what a one-night stand meant. I’d never been deliberately cruel to a lassie, but I’d ghosted a few. Now I felt bad about it.
A whistle suddenly blew sharp and piercing, accompanied by frantic shouts. Callan and I jolted, looking toward the direction of the sound and then Callan was running toward the opposite goal where the team’s backup goalkeeper, Peter Klintberg, had been training with a few players.
I took off after Callan as our teammates surrounded two players lying on the pitch.
As I processed what was happening, I slowed to a stop, the blood rushing in my ears. The ground seemed to pulse up toward me in waves, and I squeezed my eyes closed, forcing myself to breathe slowly so I wouldn’t pass out.
“He’s not waking up.”
“Fuck, fuck, I’m sorry.”
“Freddie, Freddie, can you hear me?”
“He’s out cold.”
“What happened, Peter?”
“I didn’t see.”
“It was me and Kaito,” Baumann spoke. “We were messing around.”
“Freddie. Freddie!”
“Call an ambulance. Now!”
I opened my eyes, watching as our medic rushed across the field and Baumann roared at the coaches to call an ambulance.
“Move.” The medic pushed Callan aside and opened Freddie’s eyes, flashing a light in them. “Concussion.” He pulled his fingers away from Freddie’s temple and they were covered in blood.
Fuck.
Fuck!
This wasn’t happening.
My chest tightened as I stood there unable to move, to help.
“What happened?” The gaffer stood in front of Kaito and Baumann as the medic checked Freddie’s vitals.
He wasn’t moving.
Fuck, he wasn’t moving.
He was just a kid. He’d barely even started.
“I was showing Eric how to land with feet after kicking ball in air.” Kaito’s voice shook. “Freddie … Why? He jump to header ball as I kick. And I kicked … how to say … much force. I hit Freddie.”
Stupid, stupid.
“Why would he do that?”
“He didn’t realize. He just jumped in to take the ball.” Baumann shook his head. “Stupid fucking kid.”
“Show some respect,” Callan spat.
Baumann flinched and nodded.
Through all of this, I said nothing. Watched as the paramedics appeared on the field and placed the still-unconscious Freddie on a stretcher.