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)
I flinched. “What does that mean?”
Baird grimaced. “Not the way you’re taking it. Just, you could loosen up a bit. Even Becky’s bungee jumped.”
Hurt, I stepped back toward the building.
Baird’s gaze dropped, watching me as I retreated. A muscle in his jaw ticked and he turned abruptly, picking up his helmet.
“Are you … Did something happen?”
He threw a smirk over his shoulder. “Nothing happened, babe. Nothing’s wrong. Isn’t that what you’ve been telling me all week?”
Another stab of hurt flared across my chest, and I turned around and pushed inside the building before he could even get on his bike. Way to throw my apology in my face by passively aggressively telling me he did not accept said apology.
I leaned against the door as soon as it slammed shut, tears burning my eyes.
The hope that I’d stupidly let build alongside my moronic crush began to evaporate.
Baird’s inability to accept my apology when he knew how much damage my mum had done, and then to lash out at me for being distant this past week, was proof that he wasn’t mature enough for a relationship. Damn it, he wasn’t even mature enough for our friendship. I thought I knew him … but today … I didn’t know that guy.
Feeling crushed by the demise of my crush, I pushed off the door and marched back to work, throwing myself into it because it had to be worth it. My job had to be worth the seemingly inevitable destruction of me and Baird.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
MAIA
An hour later, I was cursing my contacts and wishing I could rub at my bleary eyes from looking at my computer screen so intently. My optician had told me I needed to take a ten-minute screen break every twenty minutes, but it was difficult to put that into practice.
My phone, however, made an alert tone that was different from texts and social media notifications. When I first became friends with Baird, I’d set a search alert on my phone for Caledonia United. Anytime there was Caley FC news, I knew about it.
Miserable and unsettled by the encounter with Baird, I reached for my phone to check the alert and then I froze.
CALEY UNITED PLAYER INJURED IN TRAINING
I clicked on the news article, my heart racing as I read that Freddie Dalguise, the youngest player on the team, had suffered a head injury in training that morning. He’d been rushed to hospital with a concussion but had been discharged and was recovering.
Slumping in my chair, I saw Baird’s face in my mind again. That wild flare in his eyes this afternoon suddenly made so much sense.
“Shit,” I muttered, feeling terrible that I hadn’t pushed him more. I’d let my hurt feelings get the better of me when I should’ve known the last time Baird acted like this level of arsehole was only weeks after his own head injury.
I’d thought these past few weeks meant he was moving on. That he was dealing with what happened to him.
But I had just been a distraction from it.
Until Freddie reminded Baird.
Heart rate increasing with worry, I hit Baird’s name on my contact list, but his phone went straight to voicemail. I tried again. Straight to voicemail.
Shit, shit, shit.
Tapping on my screen, I brought up his main socials and searched for his profile. Once I was on it, I saw he had a new story. I clicked on it, hoping it would reassure me about his whereabouts.
It did not.
There were a number of new stories added in the last twenty minutes.
Baird was at a racing circuit. With his motorbike.
“Of course he is,” I huffed in concerned aggravation.
We were back here again. Would the drinking and partying follow suit? The women?
Chest aching, I tried calling him again. When there was nothing, I left a voicemail. “Bear, it’s me. Please call me. It’s important.”
By the time I got home from work, Baird still hadn’t called me back. I didn’t want to phone again and look like a crazy stalker, but after checking his socials and finding no more stories, I started to get a pit in my stomach. I’d barely been able to eat dinner, I was so unsettled.
Later, as I took out my contacts and washed my face, readying for bed, I went from worried to seriously pissed off. Was this punishment for my behavior this week? Or did I not even factor in? Was I not even a thought in his mind right now?
My phone blared from the pocket of my joggers, and I startled. Quickly drying my hands first, I reached for it. It was Baird’s sister.
Fear catapulted through me, and I fumbled to answer. “Ainsley?”
“Maia, thank goodness.” She let out an irritated exhale. “Baird just called me. He asked me to pick him up from A&E because he came off his stupid bike at a racing circuit.”