Total pages in book: 103
Estimated words: 104766 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 524(@200wpm)___ 419(@250wpm)___ 349(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 104766 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 524(@200wpm)___ 419(@250wpm)___ 349(@300wpm)
She’s been sick…
Sick.
Morning sickness?
I sit up again, not ready to do reps and have three hundred pounds of metal bearing down onto my chest. I don’t think I can withstand the weight.
Let it crush me.
I don’t care.
She’s been sick.
Fuck.
Everything in my gut is telling me it’s true.
Tess must be pregnant. I don’t know if it was her or a friend who sold us out but…
Shit.
“What’s wrong?” Drake asks, a frown marring his brow.
“I just…” My head shakes. “Feel a certain way about it.”
“Um. I would too if some chick I banged was tellin’ people I knocked her up.”
I shoot him a sharp gaze. He’s being loud, and I don’t need my teammates overhearing our conversation.
It’s fucking embarrassing.
And private.
Never have I ever felt so exposed.
People are staring; it feels like all the females in the room are watching us, whispering.
Great.
I can imagine what’s going through their heads—there is that piece of shit Colter who was dumb enough to be entrapped by a jersey chaser.
Well, little do they know that isn’t what Tess is.
But I can’t walk around with a sign on my back declaring otherwise. People are going to think what they think.
I push myself off the bench, grab my cell phone from the shelf where we keep towels and water bottles, and head for the hallway where I can make a call.
This time when I dial her, it only rings three times.
“Hello?”
She obviously already knows it’s me.
“Hey.”
I roll my eyes because I sound like an idiot. Is this seriously a way to start a conversation?
"Hey, Drew." Her voice sounds distant.
Not that I blame her.
Apparently, a shit ton has been going on in her world.
"Hey, Tess.” I have no idea where to begin, so I say, “I have no idea what to say right now.” Except maybe, “Is it true?”
What follows is the world’s longest, most deafening pause.
“Yes,” she whispers.
I suck in a breath, damned if I don’t.
Fuck.
“Is it…” Mine.
“Yes,” she whispers even softer.
My mouth guppies over.
Closes.
I clear my throat so I don’t start to cry. “Care to explain why I'm finding out about your pregnancy from the news?”
My question comes out harsher than I’d wanted it to, but this isn’t something you rehearse or plan for unless you’re one of those couples trying to have a baby.
Except we’re not a couple, and we weren’t fucking trying to have a baby.
There's a long pause on the other end of the line before she finally speaks.
"Look, Drew, I didn't want it to come to this, but I felt like I had no choice."
No choice?
What does that mean?
“Was it you? Or did you tell someone who sold the story?” I know how this shit works by now and both things can be true at the same time.
She hesitates, weighing her answer. “Yes.”
“Does that mean it was you, or was it someone who sold the story?”
“The second one.” Her voice is so quiet I have to strain to hear it over the sound of the gym’s echoing chaos. Machines, people grunting, music.
"No choice? What are you talking about?" I demand, my frustration mounting. "We should've talked about this before it went public."
"I know, I know." She sighs, sounding defeated. "But I didn't know how to tell you. And then I told my brother, and he went apeshit, and I panicked."
I run a hand through my hair, trying to process what she's saying. "And that dumb asshole thought going to the press was the best solution?"
"I don’t want you to feel trapped or obligated."
Too fucking late for that.
My phone has been blowing up. My brothers have all threatened to hop on the next flight here, and my mother wants to sue the Donahues for defamation, lies, and slander.
Teammates.
My coaches.
Everyone is up my ass, including the media.
I let out a frustrated sigh, torn between anger and a strange sense of understanding.
"Tess,” I say calmly. “We're in this together, whether we like it or not. Going to the press without even talking to me first was a shitty thing for Grady to do. Please tell me you didn’t know about it.”
“I didn’t know about it.”
“Please tell me you didn’t take money for the story.”
“I didn’t take money for the story.”
My sigh of relief is palpable.
Thank god.
"I'm sorry," she replies, her voice sounding small. "I messed up, Drew, and I regret it.”
I can see Drake watching me intently through the glass doors of the gym, clearly picking up on the tension in the conversation. His twintuition is probably buzzing.
I give him a pointed look, silently asking for this moment alone with Tess. I do not need him charging out into the hallway to interrupt or give her his opinion on the matter.
"Tess," I say, my tone softening slightly. "We need to figure this out together. This whole thing is a clusterfuck, but...let's talk about our options and come up with a plan."