Total pages in book: 109
Estimated words: 109176 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 546(@200wpm)___ 437(@250wpm)___ 364(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 109176 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 546(@200wpm)___ 437(@250wpm)___ 364(@300wpm)
I look toward where she sits with Hudson and the other guys on the team.
Come out, they said. It’ll be fun, they said.
Bullshit. Not being able to touch her isn’t fun. Instead, I’m just pissed.
Needing a moment to myself, I move toward the back door of this place. I don’t want to talk to any of them, and I certainly don’t want to see her having the time of her life, so instead, I choose to head out the door.
Once outside, the brisk October air hits me in the face.
It does help sober me up. Maybe it was the haze of the bar and the company that had me feeling so fucked up, but now in the darkness of the night with the wind blowing in my face, I’m no longer feeling like a weight has been dropped on my chest.
Eventually, I’ll have to go back into the bar and settle up with Hudson. I don’t need him buying my drinks, but I need some distance right now to get my head on straight.
I walk a few more steps until I see the small park adjacent to the bar. Since I have no desire to socialize, this is perfect. It’s empty. No lights, no people, just calm.
I take a seat and close my eyes, inhaling slowly and then exhaling. What is it about her that has me tied up in knots?
It’s her presence.
I want her near me, and when I can’t have her, it feels like I’m drowning.
This is why Coach should never have offered her to me as an assistant. Now that I’ve tasted what life would be like with her in my presence, I don’t know how I’ll go back.
I take another deep breath, and when I exhale, I hear a sound beside me.
“Why are you out here all alone?” The voice I dream about says from behind me. I turn over my shoulder and peer up at her.
“The better question is, why are you out here? Shouldn’t you be inside, laughing at Hudson’s jokes?”
There’s no hiding the jealous tone in my voice. If she hears it, she’s gracious enough not to make any indication. Instead, she gives me a small smile. “I saw you leaving, and I wanted to say . . .”
“Say what?” I cock a brow, interested to know what she came all the way out here to say.
“Thank you for today.” She bites on her upper lip, looking a bit uncomfortable.
I shake my head. “You don’t have to thank me. I’m here for you if you need me. I know we’re a bit of a trainwreck—”
She arches her brow. I smirk. “Okay, a whole lot of a trainwreck. But I care, you know?”
“I care about you, too.” She reaches out but stops herself before she touches me. “Want company?”
I shrug, which seems to be an open invitation for her to lower herself onto the bench beside me.
“What’s going on with you?” she asks.
I lift my hand and scrub at my face. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“You’re extra grumpy,” she clarifies.
“Wow. I’m grumpier than normal? Is that what you’re saying?”
“It is. What gives?”
I pivot in my seat to face her, which is probably a stupid idea. It’s easier to pretend it’s not about her when I’m not looking at her, but when I see her under the moonlight, I can’t deny the pull she has over me. She looks angelic, her golden hair like a halo floating around her.
I clear my throat. “Again, I’m not following. What did I do now?”
“You just look miserable. You never smile.”
I cock my head. “I smile.”
She rolls her eyes. “Yeah? When?”
My chest rises and falls. “Whenever you’re around and I forget myself.” The words slip out of my mouth before I can stop myself.
She bites her lip, and her eyes look bottomless, vacant, and sad. “I also make you frown.”
I tilt my chin down, a small movement but an agreement. “You do.”
“Why?”
“Because I can’t have you,” I admit. I’m not sure if it’s the darkness or the alcohol, but my tongue feels looser with my secrets. Her eyes go wide, clearly shocked that I’ve told her this.
Then she reaches out her hand to touch me. I shouldn’t let her. It makes me feel too much, but now that we have, I can’t find it in myself to push her off.
“Why can’t you have me?” Her voice is barely a rasp.
I want to laugh, but I don’t. The truth is too depressing. “You know why,” I grit out, my mouth dry like the desert.
Her features are hard, yet so soft. “My dad.”
“Among other things.”
Josephine’s eyes glide over my face, looking for answers. “Such as?” she asks.
“You deserve better.”
She gives me a small smile. “And here I think you’re perfect.”
I can’t look at her, so I turn away, focusing on a tree in the distance. The leaves slowly sway in the wind. The sound almost calming. “You don’t know me,” I mutter. “Or the things I’ve done.”