Total pages in book: 162
Estimated words: 158848 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 794(@200wpm)___ 635(@250wpm)___ 529(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 158848 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 794(@200wpm)___ 635(@250wpm)___ 529(@300wpm)
“In three weeks, you’ll be in my arms again,” he promises. “You’re going to study hard and ace your finals for me, okay?”
I nod and swallow hard, trying to will any tears away.
“I’ll try to scope out some good restaurants for us to try,” he continues.
“No, don’t do anything that distracts you from training for the fight. You need to make that guy eat every insult he’s hurled your way the last couple of weeks.”
His lips twitch. “You caught some of those interviews, huh?”
“Uh, yeah. My YouTube feed is full of them. I want to knock that guy out. Diane wasn’t kidding about how obnoxious he is.”
“Underhill hates him. I think training me is part of his personal vendetta against the guy.”
“He’s certainly worked you hard these last few weeks.” I run my hands over his sturdy shoulders and granite-like arms.
“He and Wrath got along like vinegar and baking soda. It was a real joy.” He scoffs. “Camp’s going to be even more intense. Seven days a week. Coach has someone coming specifically to work on my takedown defense and strength work.”
I don’t have anything to add to that, so I reach up and wrap my arms around his neck. “You’re going to be careful and watch your knee, right?” I ask.
“Yup.” He lifts me off the ground and breathes deep, like he’s inhaling as much of me as he can, then sets me down. “They’ve got a good recovery program there. I’ll have access to cryotherapy and a physical therapist. Trust me, no one wants me to get injured before this fight.”
“Good.” It’s getting harder to look at his handsome face. Every time I do, my heart squeezes with anguish.
“I’m going to call you every morning,” he promises.
“And every night?”
“You know it.” He settles his hands on my waist. “No more YouTube. No social media. Just concentrate on your last few weeks of classes. You can catch up on all that stuff on the plane when you fly out to meet me.”
“Okay.”
“Promise?” He teases his fingers under my sweatshirt, tickling my sides.
Laughing, I twist away. “Yes, I promise.”
The RA on my floor brushes by us, then stops. “Hey, Molly. Are you coming to the ping-pong tournament? We’re getting pizza and baking cookies after.”
I can’t play ping-pong when my boyfriend’s leaving.
“You should go,” Griff urges in a low voice.
“Uh, yeah. Sure,” I say, giving her a weak smile.
“Third floor lounge,” she says, then opens the door and slips inside.
“That sounds fun.” Griff’s forced upbeat tone doesn’t work on me.
“It sounds silly.”
“Please try to go and have a good time,” he pleads. “I’ll feel better if I know you’re busy while I’m driving home.”
“I hate that you’re driving home all alone.”
An affectionate smile curves his lips. “We talked about this. One of us was going to end up making the drive alone. I’d rather it’s me.”
“Fine.” I pout and he leans down, drawing me into his arms again.
“You know when you make that face, I just want to kiss you.” He presses his lips to mine and slides his tongue along the seam of my lips. I open for him and he kisses me soft and slow. He tastes like the coffee and chocolate cake we shared after dinner. His hand cups the back of my head as he deepens the kiss. I press closer, gripping his shoulders, never wanting this to end.
“My beautiful girl,” he whispers, staring into my eyes. “I promise you, we’re going to spend the whole summer together. Doing anything and everything you want. Drive-ins, road trips, you name it, I’ll give it to you.”
I just want you to come home with me from Vegas in one piece.
Along with all the interviews of Magic, I’d also watched videos of what his opponents looked like after going five rounds.
In my heart, I know Griff’s the better fighter. He’s going to win.
But it doesn’t mean he won’t get injured in the process.
CHAPTER FIFTY
Molly
Almost a year ago, I was at this very airport trying to escape my life. Escape my broken heart and all my memories of Griff.
Now, I’m sitting in a plush leather seat next to my brother, while we wait for his friends to arrive and board the private jet that will fly across the country to meet Griff in Las Vegas. I’m too anxious to appreciate the luxurious interior of the jet that looks more like the living room of a fancy house than an airplane.
I survived my first year of college. I didn’t get the straight A’s Griff wanted, but I came close. In a few weeks, I’ll find out if I’m awarded the same scholarship money for next year.
“What’re you thinking about?” Remy nudges my arm with his elbow. “Nervous about flying?”
“No.” I turn and study his face, hidden behind dark sunglasses. “I was thinking how different things are from the last time I was here.” I gesture toward the window looking out on the runway. “I didn’t make it this far.”