Heat pricks at the backs of my eyes and I lose the battle to the tears I’ve been fighting.
My knees give out when Mason uses his thumbs to wipe them away.
The color leeches from my fingers as I pull up every ounce of determination I have to stand my ground.
“The reason I fought giving in to your charms so hard is because I didn’t think I would be able to handle the risks of being with someone in your position.”
The constant attention.
The probing into both my present and also my past.
The judgment and ridicule.
“You can, baby.”
I shake my head, finally freeing myself from his hold and jumping away before he can reach for me again.
He’s wrong.
He needs someone who can stand by his side during all the good and amazing things coming his way.
One of my biggest regrets is hiding away inside a hotel room instead of attending the NFL Draft with E. I didn’t get to hug him or congratulate him when his name was called as the fifth overall pick. He had Bette, but the way he embraced me a little bit tighter, a little bit longer when he made it back to our suite after gave away his disappointment.
Mason deserves to have the person he wants to celebrate with by his side when his moment comes. I am not that person.
“I can’t. I’m too weak.” Too fucking scared of breaking down from the pressure. “Eventually you would have figured it out for yourself.”
#Chapter13
No.
No, no, no, no, no.
I don’t accept this.
Kay thinks her demons have won? Thinks they can take her away from me?
I may not be all that religious, but I can be her motherfucking priest and exorcise those bastards.
I fucked up by ending things in the first place, but the main reason it only took a kick in the ass from Trav to set me straight is because deep down I knew the breakup should have never happened.
Now? Nothing, nothing is going to keep us apart.
When I move to touch her again, she skirts around me and takes off for the door, literally running away from me this time. I stand rooted on the spot, the slam of the door closing as harsh as a gunshot.
She thinks dating me is a risk? Sure, all relationships are to some extent, but to think she’s too weak to handle being with me?
She’s out of her damn mind.
There is not one person in this whole world who is more perfect for me than Kayla ‘PF’ Dennings, and I’ll prove it to her. It’s time for my inner coach and me to come up with the most important playbook of my life—the one for Kay’s heart.
It’s game on, and I always play to win.
The chilly night air brushes along my cheeks, but my blood is boiling too hot for me to notice. I scan the area for Kay, but before I can find her, I’m intercepted by JT. He looks nothing like the happy-go-lucky guy I’ve seen plastered all over social media. No, this person standing in front of me looks pissed as fuck.
He’s dressed similarly to most of those here, in jeans and a leather jacket, and not for the first time, I wonder who the hell Kay is hanging out with.
His arms are folded across his chest, staring me down hard, his brows a stern line across his forehead. Though I have a couple inches and a few pounds on him, Trav was right in his assessment about the guy—he is built like a footballer.
“I’m getting real tired of seeing her cry.” JT cuts right to the chase.
“Can you stop being such a nice guy?” The strawberry-blonde I recognize as his sister Tessa scolds him as she bounces up to his side.
“Tess,” JT chides.
“Don’t give me that, Jim,” she says, crossing her own arms.
“I think she wants you to act more like my brother,” a blonde adds, flanking JT’s other side.
“Not a chance, Savvy,” JT says as Tessa counters with a, “Screw the Royals. I want him to go full-on E.”
I do my best to hide my wince at the thought of what I’m sure E wants to do to me for breaking his sister’s heart.
JT rolls his eyes—of course he does; Kay is his best friend, after all. “Wes!” he shouts over his shoulder. “Can you help a brother out and control the mini Royal please?”
Another guy in a leather jacket, his with ribbing and elbow patches those who race motorcycles would wear, joins us. “I love that you think she listens to me.”
JT chuckles in the way any brother with a little sister laughs when they are with a guy who knows that pain. “At the very least you can distract her by taking her to the race.”
The guy, Wes something or other, claps JT on the shoulder but shakes his head. “No can do, bro. King’s racing tonight. I’m in charge of the book.”
The comment has JT shifting his attention away from me and giving it all to Wes. “Carter never races in these small ones. Why’s he racing tonight?”
“Well, when your girl—”
I growl at Kay being called anyone’s girl except mine. Tessa and Savvy giggle, highly amused, and I see a satisfied smirk tilt the edges of JT’s mouth as he watches me out of the corner of his eye.
“—started rooting around for the tequila and looking all high school-ly, King thought a little street racing might be just what she needed to stop thinking about this guy for a while.” Wes waves at me, but my gut is too busy clenching at the thought of Kay riding shotgun while people play Fast and Furious.
“Is Kay safe with this King guy?” Trav asks, stepping up to my left, backing me up should I need it.
“Yeah.” JT blows out a breath. “You won’t find a better driver in the state than Carter. But fuck me”—he thrusts a hand through his hair—“thank god
