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)
I broke her heart.
It feels like I ripped mine out of my chest in the process.
Six fucking years and it hasn't healed over or scarred. It just continues to fester and bleed. I tried like hell to convince her to forgive me. She didn't want to hear it. I tried to convince her that I'd wait for her. She didn't want to hear that, either.
As far as she's concerned, I meant it the day I told her that I'd rather not have her in my life than have her wait around for me. She's been hellbent on giving me exactly that every day since. I thought she'd cool down eventually, and let me explain.
I called her every damn day for two months. Half the time, she ignored my calls. The rest, she answered only long enough to tell me to stop calling.
I figured by Thanksgiving break, she'd be calmer.
Oh, fuck no.
When I got home, it was to news that she was applying to colleges on the East Coast. She wasn't even applying to UT. I asked her why. Turns out, my little butterfly wanted to be as far away from me as possible. She told me that she didn't want to spend the next few years of her life running into me on campus, remembering that the day I finally gave her what she'd wanted more than anything was the same day I broke her heart. I ruined her first kiss, her first I love you, and her first prom. She couldn't be friends with me because she couldn't forgive me.
I fucking begged her to give me a chance to fix it. She told me to go to hell. So I grabbed her and kissed her. I told her I loved her and didn't mean what I said. She slapped me and ran out.
An hour later, she stopped breathing in my arms after wrapping her car around a light pole. She spent weeks in the hospital, fighting for her life after I pulled her from the wreckage, and she didn't want me anywhere near her. She blames me for the accident…and I haven't seen her since.
Oh, I see her all over the fucking TV. She's on the radio every damn time I turn it on. But I haven't been in the same room with her since the night she tore my heart out completely.
Or hell, maybe I'm the one who tore it out.
I don't fucking know. All I know is that I sat in that hospital room with her until she started waking up. And then I slipped out. I sat outside the hospital the entire time she was admitted, refusing to leave, but she didn't want to see me, and I didn't want to risk making her worse. I needed to be close, but I wanted to give her space, too. Back then, I was convinced I was doing the right thing.
Six years later, I'm no longer sure. She won't even come home if she knows I'm going to be there. No one is allowed to speak my name to her. She fucking hates me. Nothing about that seems right.
But hell, she could hate me every day for the rest of her life. It won't even compare to the guilt I carry. She was on that road because of me. She almost died because of me. I'll never fucking forgive myself for that shit. I can't. She shouldn't have been out there that night, not when she was as upset as she was.
"My office, Kirby," Coach growls. "Now."
"Fuck," I mutter, bouncing my head against the locker.
Everyone turns to look at me, matching sympathetic looks on their faces. I pretend not to see them as I haul myself to my feet, following after him. He doesn't say a word until I close the door to his office behind me.
"That little stunt out there is already hitting the press," he says, tossing his shit down on his cluttered desk before wheeling to face me. "It's the third time this season that you've made yourself look like a hotheaded aggressive jackass out there. Is this going to be the status quo with you?"
"No, Coach."
"You sure about that? Because it was your M.O. back in Tennessee." He crosses his arms, hitting me with a no-bullshit look. "The last thing this league needs is another hothead. You're aggressive on the field. You've been in more scrapes than I can count off the field. Management is beginning to wonder if you're worth the hassle, kid."
Fuck.
I shove a hand through my hair, blowing out a breath. "That was an accident out there."
"Yeah, Aldersgate said the same thing. It's bullshit," he says bluntly. "I've been at this a long time. I know your history with him. And I'm telling you here and now to stow it. Stow all of your shit and get your head on straight, Kirby. Or this will be your last season."