Total pages in book: 55
Estimated words: 50840 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 254(@200wpm)___ 203(@250wpm)___ 169(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 50840 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 254(@200wpm)___ 203(@250wpm)___ 169(@300wpm)
Growing up, I got the medals. I was the golden child who could do no wrong. It wasn't like that for Lauren. She spent half her time in treatment for her mental health. By the time they finally diagnosed her with schizophrenia when she was fifteen, she'd already been committed six different times. My life was damn near perfect. Hers was hell.
It hasn't gotten much better for her in the years since. When she's on her medication, she's able to function normally. But off it, her mind is a terrifying place.
She sees and hears things that aren't there, monsters that want to hurt her. They torment her, dragging her down to hell. The world isn't a magical place to her. It's a waking nightmare when she's off her meds. She's paranoid, terrified, and a danger to herself.
It's been that way her entire life. And people always made her feel like a fucking failure because of it. Because she struggled while I excelled. In their eyes, that meant something was wrong with her. They pitied her, mocked her, and treated her like shit while we were growing up.
And they treated me like some fucking hero because of her, like my accomplishments meant more because of her struggles. They don't. All that juxtaposition ever managed to do was make her feel responsible for something out of her control. She didn't ask to be born with a brain that torments her. She didn't ask to have me as a brother. And she doesn't deserve to have cameras shoved in her face or be treated like she's somehow less than because of me.
When I was drafted, we both knew the rest of the world isn't any kinder to people with mental health issues than kids are. In fact, they're a whole lot worse. She asked me to make sure she didn't become a news story. Until Lachlan was born, it's the only thing she's ever asked of me.
So I've tried like hell to honor my promise and keep people from talking about her. I act like an asshole and cause trouble to keep them focused on me. People are easy. So long as you give them something to talk about, they don't go digging for a story. I keep the focus on me and whatever bullshit I'm doing so it's never on her. I won't allow anyone to use her struggles to hurt her. They don't get to turn her pain into a story. I'll do whatever I have to do to protect her.
But I should have warned Peyton. If I had, she wouldn't have run out in tears, thinking I'm the worst kind of asshole. I may be a lot of things, but I'm not that. I wouldn't do that to her.
"Damn," Diego says, laughing from across the room. "How is it that you took a puck bunny home after the game, but you're somehow moodier than Jordan, who we all know hasn't been laid in a goddamn century?"
I whip my head in his direction, my fists clenched. "Peyton isn't a puck bunny," I say, a warning vibrating in my tone. She's not even remotely close to one of the women we can't escape. Christ, she was a virgin. Until me.
Diego arches a brow at me. "Ah, so you didn't get laid. That explains so much."
"Diego, shut the fuck up."
He falls silent, eyeing me sideways.
"Holy shit," Micah mutters, looking at me the same damn way. "You actually liked her."
I grit my teeth, scowling at him. Why the fuck do the guys on this team talk so goddamn much?
"You did, didn't you?"
"Doesn't matter," I mutter, yanking my practice jersey on over my head. "That ship sailed."
"What happened?" Diego asks.
I shoot him a dark look. There are guys on this team I'd absolutely go to for advice in this situation. Micah is one of them. Diego is not.
"I'm not a complete asshole," he protests. "I can help with this shit."
Micah snorts, bending to lace up his skates.
"She found Lachlan's nursery and dipped out on me," I mutter, skipping over the parts about her nailing me with a shoe and then kneeing me in the balls. I also conveniently leave out the part about chasing after her bare-ass naked. There's not a chance in hell Diego won't spread that shit all the way around the arena in a matter of hours.
"Damn." Micah shakes his head. "She thinks he's yours?"
"Yep."
"Sucks to be you," Diego says.
"Thanks," I say sarcastically, hauling myself to my feet. "That's so helpful."
He grins at me, shrugging. "I've got nothing useful, brother. That situation is way above my pay grade."
Why am I not surprised?
"You going to try to fix it?" Micah asks, glancing up at me.
Should I? Hell if I know. She's mad as hell. But am I?
"Uh, fuck yeah." She hit me with a shoe and kneed me in the balls after giving me the best night of my life. There's not a chance in hell I'm letting her get away that easily.