Total pages in book: 185
Estimated words: 191421 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 957(@200wpm)___ 766(@250wpm)___ 638(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 191421 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 957(@200wpm)___ 766(@250wpm)___ 638(@300wpm)
“Only because it’s a sucky game.”
I don’t like soccer.
I never did.
In fact I hate the sport because I was forced into it. It’s something all Davidsons are into. Needless to say, my brother was a star.
A natural, according to my dad.
And I was a natural fucking disaster.
Lucas fixed that however.
In exchange for saving his ass, he promised to teach me soccer — something he played to escape his home life. And over time, I got good at it. I got fucking excellent at it. So much so that I won a soccer scholarship to go to college.
Lucas also fixed my pissed-off attitude, or rather compensated for it with his own charming one. And in turn, I fixed his problem of always getting friend-zoned by the girls.
Long story short, we’ve been inseparable since we were eight years old.
Well, until now.
“I’d never had a friend before you. You were my first friend. My only friend.” Then, finally turning to look at me, “My brother.”
It’s getting harder and harder to breathe now. To stand and not go to my knees, fall under the pressure in my chest, the burden on my shoulders.
But he deserves it.
He deserves me standing here, giving him the courtesy to look him in the eyes like a man.
“You were my motherfucking brother, Reign,” he growls, taking a step toward me. “Until you ruined it. Until you fucking destroyed everything. Every fucking thing that I cared about.”
I stay silent.
Because he’s right.
I did destroy everything that he cared about. His happiness. His dreams. His love. His fucking life. And if I don’t find some way to stop what he’s been doing, he might even lose his life-long goal of becoming a pro soccer player. It’s testament to how good of a soccer player he is that even though he drinks himself half to death every night, he still shows up for practice and manages to kick ass. Or rather, it’s a testament of how much he hates me that he shows up to practice to kick my ass specifically. And I let him because yes, he deserves all the chances to annihilate me.
So there’s nothing for me to say or do except take it.
Take whatever he wants to dish out.
“You know what I saw when I looked at her tonight?” he asks, taking another step toward me. “I saw you. I saw your hands on her. Your fucking mouth on her. Like it was, that night. Every time I think about her, I think about you. About your betrayal. About the fact that the person I trusted the most in this world screwed me over. You fucking screwed me over, Reign. And apparently, you’ve been doing it for years.” He clenches his jaw. “That’s what you told me, didn’t you? When I asked you why. When I fucking asked why the fuck would you kiss my girl, you told me that you’d wanted to kiss her for a long time. That you’d wanted her all the while she was mine.”
I did.
I did tell him that when he asked me.
I could’ve lied.
I could’ve said that it was temporary insanity, that I’d forgotten myself there for a moment. And while all of that was true — I did forget myself for a moment — it wasn’t the whole truth.
The whole truth was much uglier. Much more of a betrayal than a mere two-minute kiss. And he needed to know that. He fucking deserved to know who I was.
What I was.
A snake. A betrayer.
A fucking piece of shit who broke the very first rule of friendship: coveting my best friend’s girl.
“So it should be obvious, isn’t it?” he continues, his eyes narrowed and dripping venom. “Why I’m drinking myself into oblivion and wanting to get my dick sucked by a blonde. You did this to me. You reduced me to this. So you can take your babysitter routine and fuck off.”
It’s my turn to step forward then.
My turn to grit my teeth and narrow my eyes.
“Yeah,” I growl, low. “It was me. And don’t you dare forget that.”
“What?”
“I’m the one to blame. Me.” I thump a hand on my chest. “Which means you need to stop drinking yourself to death. You need to stop ruining your life, because I’ve already ruined it enough for you. Do you understand? You want me gone, I’ll be gone. You won’t see me again. But you need to stop punishing yourself for the things that I did. Before it’s too late. Before you lose everything that you’ve worked for. Before you do something that you might regret later.”
“Yeah? And what’s that?”
“You want to punish her too,” I say then.
He drags in a sharp breath, his eyes becoming slits, but I don’t let it deter me.
“At least, that’s what you wanted to do, back there. At the bar tonight. Punish her for what happened. I saw you. I fucking saw you eyeing her and then that chick on the dance floor.”