Total pages in book: 133
Estimated words: 128156 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 641(@200wpm)___ 513(@250wpm)___ 427(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 128156 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 641(@200wpm)___ 513(@250wpm)___ 427(@300wpm)
I smile and act charming, but on the inside, I’m fucking dying here.
The second Mason clamps one of them on the shoulder and pretends he’s their best friend, I push to my feet, meeting his knowing gaze as I take the exit he’s creating for me.
I go straight to the team bus, plug my headphones in, and close my eyes.
It takes a little over an hour for the full team to take their seats and then we’re on the road.
About a half hour into the drive, Fernando folds himself over the seat in front of me and tries to talk to me, but I point to my headphones and look out the window.
Mason pulls them out a minute later, eyebrows lifted. “Come on, man.”
“I just need a minute.”
“Chase, dude, you couldn’t have done anything different if you’d tried. The fact that they double-teamed you all night meant that you’re a threat. You have to know that—”
“Mase, please,” I don’t mean to whisper, swallowing as I look away. “I just need a minute.”
The weight of his stare burns into my cheek, and finally, he relents. “Yeah, okay, brother,” he mumbles, climbing from the seat beside me and moving over next to Brady across the way.
In my peripheral, I see him take out his phone, and the smile that breaks across his face as he waves at it.
He’s talking to the girls, to his son. I should crowd in beside them, say hello, but I can’t bring myself to move.
A bit later, a message comes through from Paige, and attached is a picture of a cookie tray.
My Angel: Thought you might want to know that only Uncle Chaser’s cookie passed the Deaton inspection on Thursday. Well, and all of mine of course. No one had the heart to tell him that the cookies were inedible so we all pretended to eat one after dinner, and Brady’s mom somehow convinced him he wanted cake instead.
I chuckle lightly, warmth inching its way in.
Me: I always win, baby.
I send it, then wince, heat of a different kind flaring up my neck as humiliation breaks across my skin. I want to be a winner for her, but I feel like the biggest fucking loser right now.
I clench my eyes closed and my phone beeps in my hands again.
My Angel: I miss you.
Three simple words. Words that wouldn’t be uncommon and possibly expected when your other half is away, but that’s not what these are. This is her, proving again how in tune she is with me, even from hundreds of miles away. I want to tell her I love her, but I don’t want to risk her saying it back.
She keeps trying, but I need her to wait. I’ll be worthy of her love one day, I will die making sure of that simple fact, but today is not that day.
Me: I miss you too, Angel. More than you know. You’re the best thing in my life. Good night.
I hold my breath, watching as the three little dots pop up, disappearing a moment later only to do the same thing again. She wants to say more, to talk, maybe tell me about her day or ease into mine, but she keeps reading over those last two words, seeing them for what they are.
And when the little dots disappear yet again, I hate myself just a little more.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
Chase
The second my foot hits the pavement, it all caves in.
The noises fade, but the heaviness doesn’t. It just…shifts, going from this pulsing roar in my chest to a thick, throbbing weight low in my gut. I don’t hear the world around me, and I can’t feel the bite of the late November air. All I know is the ache behind my ribs and the pressure building at the back of my throat.
I don’t know how long I stand there, at the edge of the pile the driver’s creating as he pulls bag after bag from under the compartment, but suddenly Brady’s shoes are in front of mine.
I blink, lifting my gaze, finding his frown staring back at me. Beside him, Mason is doing the same. I look between the two of them, a bit confused.
“What?” My voice comes out rough, and I try to clear my throat.
Rather than repeat whatever it was he might have tried to say, Brady’s frown deepens, the corners of his mouth tugging down, and Mason’s shifts from irritation to worry. It must show all over my face. This loss, this shame, but they only know half of the weight I’m carrying.
I can’t possibly tell them that tonight wasn’t just a bad game—they know that already and that’s where the concern in their eyes is coming from, the witnessing of my downfall.
But what they don’t know is something else is wrong, something I can no longer push to the back of my mind and ignore, that might end everything for real, if there is even still a chance for me at all.