Total pages in book: 66
Estimated words: 62128 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 311(@200wpm)___ 249(@250wpm)___ 207(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 62128 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 311(@200wpm)___ 249(@250wpm)___ 207(@300wpm)
I rub my palms over my face, my entire body shaking from the adrenaline. “I thought we did,” I say.
“You thought?” Lawson ask. “You need to be certain about that shit, man,” he says. “Otherwise, you're getting pissed at her for something she may not even know she's doing wrong. You said so yourself, in the beginning, this was supposed to just be fun.”
“Fuck,” I say.
I pull out my phone, dialing her number and holding my phone to my ear, the breath tightening my lungs with every ring that goes unanswered.
“Voicemail,” I say, hanging up. “Either of you have any idea where she is?”
Pax is the first to make a face, so I glare at him.
“I heard Monroe say something about her going to the coffee shop after practice to meet up with one of the players to talk about videos.” He grimaces. “Only know that cause Monroe was going to stop by there and get me a coffee.”
“Who is she meeting with?” I ask. “Don't you fucking dare say it's Darrell,” I say before he can even respond.
“I don't know,” he hurries to answer.
“Shit,” I snap, grabbing my stuff and storming out of the locker room so fast my friends can't even follow me.
I'm already in my car by the time they've made it to the players’ lot and I ignore whatever they're trying to say to me as I take off toward the coffee shop.
My anger mounts and builds, a strong boil that threatens to burn me from the inside out. I swear to God if I've gotten played, all for the sake of some fucking endorsement deals and some views, I'm going to lose my shit.
She wouldn't set a date with Darrell.
She wouldn't.
She's fully aware of how big of a piece of shit Liam is, he's dating her best friend for fuck’s sake. And she hates it. She's told me that on several occasions. She doesn't see what Monroe sees in Liam, and Darrell is that douchebag’s best friend. They're cut from the same cloth.
She wouldn’t entertain a storyline for him like she did with me. Right?
We’re different.
It's not fake between us. It's not just about some damn social page.
And regardless of the money and influence it's brought to the team, she wouldn't put players in danger, like Daniel is saying.
She wouldn’t do that to him, to his wife, to anyone.
She wouldn't do that to me.
Maybe I'll make you fall in love with me just to break your heart to prove you actually have one.
Her words from the day after New Year's Eve echo through my mind. The words sound way more serious than ever before.
And as I pull into the coffee shop, something in my chest cracks. A deep, internal pain I’ve never felt before.
It only takes me a minute to realize it’s my heart breaking.
CHAPTER 18
REESE
I order a coffee at the counter before heading over to where I see Darrell already sipping his at a small table in the back of the shop. I'm surprised he wanted to have the meeting after a grueling yet awesome win last night and practice today. I figured he’d be too wiped out to function.
Or maybe that was just my wishful thinking, because I really wanted to spend time with Nash today. I’d already promised myself the second this meeting is done I’d go over to his place and surprise him with some much-needed body work.
I'm sure his muscles needed some attention, and Monroe taught me a few tricks on how to help give him some relief. He'd worked his ass off this week.
Pride fills my chest at how amazing he’d been at the game last night. Hopefully this will be a quick meeting to set up ideas of what he wants his spotlight series to look like, and then I can book it out of here.
“Hey, Reese,” Darrell says, standing up from the table as I approach and giving me a quick hug as if we're the oldest friends in the world. I furrow my brow at the greeting, but take my seat across from him, draping my bag over the back of the chair. “Thanks for meeting with me.”
“Yeah, I'm surprised you wanted to,” I say. “After the win last night and a no doubt hard practice today, I thought you’d either be in recovery or out celebrating.”
“This feels like celebrating,” he says, settling back into his seat across from me.
“Really?” I ask. “Don't get me wrong, I love my work, but it's not the same as having a good time after a winning week.” I pull my tablet out of my bag, getting my pen ready to take notes on what direction he wants.
“I think anyone would have a good time with you,” he says.
I shift, an internal sensor flickering a small warning at the compliment.
I brush it off. He's just being nice in order to get the best working relationship.