Total pages in book: 57
Estimated words: 52440 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 262(@200wpm)___ 210(@250wpm)___ 175(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 52440 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 262(@200wpm)___ 210(@250wpm)___ 175(@300wpm)
"You fucking assh…" He charges over the line toward me, bellowing like an enraged bull.
I quickly step to the side, holding my hands up to show I didn't do anything, as the ref blows his whistle. Germaine trips, landing on his knees. Rory and another of his teammates jog over, grabbing him.
He fights like hell, cursing up a blue streak as he tries to lunge at me.
I just stand there, not saying a word.
The ref jogs over with Coach and Germaine's coach hot on his heels.
"What the fuck are you doing, Germaine?" their coach growls at him. "The game hasn't even started yet."
"He's running his fucking mouth," Germaine snaps, lunging for me again. "Talking about my wife."
Coach narrows his eyes on me, ready to tear into me.
"Cut the shit, man. You started it," Rory mutters to Germaine, saving my ass. "You know damn well what you said about his girl was fucked up. If you can't take the shit, don't dish it out."
"What'd he say?" Coach asks me.
"Doesn't matter," I mutter, refusing to repeat it.
"Jesus Christ," their coach mutters. "Stop throwing a tantrum and get your ass back in position or get off the field, Germaine. We don't have time for this shit."
Coach jerks his head, pulling me aside, leaving their coach and the ref to deal with Germaine.
"What's up, Coach?"
"You good?" he asks, his eyes locked on my face.
"Yeah, I'm good."
He stares at me for a minute and then nods. "Well, damn." A craggy smile splits his face. "Maybe you can be taught, boy. This is the first time all season you've let it roll off your back. She's good for you."
"That she is." I grin at him.
He chuckles, glancing back at Germaine. "He's going to ride your ass the whole game. Watch it."
I flick my gaze at Germaine, who is slowly trudging back over the line, his coach reaming him the whole way. "Let him try," I mutter, not worried about it. She's back home, watching. There's not a chance in hell I'm letting her down today.
"Good job holding it together out there, Kirby," Coach says, his gaze locking with mine as he squeezes past me in the locker room at the end of the game.
I jerk my chin in a nod, exhausted all the way to my bones. Fucking hell. He wasn't kidding when he said Germaine was going to ride my ass the whole game. Half their fucking team rode me like a goddamn whipped pony, trying to taunt a response out of me. I didn't give them the satisfaction, but they tried to smash it out of me.
Everything hurts.
We still won, though. Fuck them.
Coach sails past, leaving me in peace. I reach for my phone instead of peeling off my pads, checking for messages from Nadia. I grin when I see she's sent several over the last few hours. There are several from Emelia too, but I ignore those for the moment, eager to see what my girl has to say.
Butterfly: Daaaaamn, Number 96!
Butterfly: Seriously. Damn. You look good out there.
I chuckle, shaking my head.
Butterfly: What happened out there? He does not seem thrilled with you.
Butterfly: Okay, seriously. What the heck happened? He's been on you all night!
Butterfly: Do I need to fly out there and kick his ass?
Butterfly: Jesus. The things I'm thinking about doing to you right now…
"Fuck," I growl, my goddamn cup damn near cutting off circulation to my cock as he immediately turns to steel.
Butterfly: Congratulations, Teo. You did so great out there. I'll reward you when you get home.
I drop my head back against the locker, groaning. She's killing me here. The little minx probably knows it, too.
Me: You better be naked in bed, waiting for me when I get home tomorrow, butterfly. You can't tease a man in a cup and not expect to pay for it.
Butterfly: OMG. I forgot about the cup!
Me: It's all good. I miss you.
Butterfly: I miss you too. Are you okay? That was a brutal game.
Me: I'm perfect, baby. Hitting the showers and then heading to the hotel. I'll call you when I get there.
Butterfly: Okay. I love you.
I run my thumb over those three little words, my heart in my throat. Every time she says them, my chest gets tight. I want to fall to my damn knees and thank God.
If this is forgiveness, it's more beauty than a motherfucker like me deserves. But hell, I'm going to work to deserve it anyway. I'm going to work to believe I deserve it.
Knowing she doesn't blame me for the accident helps. But I feel like there are pieces I'm missing. Important pieces. It's the look in her eyes when we talk about the past, sometimes, like she's holding something back. She was never a very good liar. Hell, she was always terrible at it.
There's still something she hasn't said. I'm trying to wait her out. She'll come to me with it when she's ready to tell me her truths. But I feel like I'm in limbo until then, stuck between guilt and the desperate desire to move forward. I want to move forward, to let the past go, and heal together. But I fucking can't let it go when I know she's keeping pieces back, things she's trying to protect me from.