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)
"She isn't part of the game, Alice," I growl. "Our families shouldn't be on the table. Doesn't matter how much the team or the league gets out of their coverage if it causes more harm than good to actual people with actual fucking feelings."
"I'm not condoning the way they do things," she says softly. "I'm on your side. I'm just saying…there are ways to do things and there are ways not to do things. Starting a war with the press isn't going to get you what you want. You can't silence them just because you don't like what they do."
"I'm not trying to silence them. I don't give a flying fuck what they publish about me, the team, the league, or anyone except Peyton and Lauren. Neither of them signed up to play this sport. They didn't sign contracts agreeing to have their lives put on display or to have cameras shoved in their faces. After everything they've already been through, they shouldn't have to suffer because I'm in their lives."
Alice glances at me sharply, her gaze assessing and then she sighs. "I'll do what I can to mitigate the damage, Logan. But you need to prepare her for the probability that her father is going to be brought up. Her mother's death will be too. The sooner the two of you address it, the sooner they'll move on. If you want to protect her, you really need to sell the fact that you're crazy about her. Logan Moreno in love is big news. It's new. But her past is old news. Keep the focus on your relationship and they'll lose interest in her past."
I jerk my chin in a nod, hopping she's right.
"As for Lauren…" She tips her head to the side, sighing. "You need to prepare yourself for the very real probability that Montaque is going to print his story about her. Both of you need to decide if you want to head that off at the pass and tell it from your POV before he gets an opportunity to skew it. And believe me, he will skew it because that's the kind of ignorant prick he is. No one knows anything about her history, so there isn't going to be any mitigating the damage there. The best you can do is take control of the narrative and allow Lauren to tell her story her way. It's what she deserves. You know it is."
Hell, maybe she's right. Maybe all I'm doing by stalling is delaying the inevitable here and giving Montaque more time to fuck her over and hurt her. I don't know anymore. But Alice has no idea what it's like to watch the sister you promised to protect slowly lose herself to a disease she can't control over and over again. She doesn't know what it's like to have to sneak into a mental institution to visit her or listen to her pleading with people only she sees not to hurt her. That's been my life…and it's been Lauren's.
How the fuck am I supposed to tell her that I fucked up and let her down? I don't know.
Just like I don't fucking know how I'm supposed to tell Peyton that maybe she was right about me and I'm the last motherfucker she needs in her life. I've been fucking up with her from the very beginning.
And the real hell of it? I don't know how to stop. When it comes to her, I don't know how to fucking stop. She's an addiction, something I crave with an intensity that borders on desperation. Even knowing that I'm fucking up and pissing her off at every turn, I keep doing it, because so long as she's pissed and fighting me and being mouthy and we're all over each other, maybe I don't have to admit that she's not the only one terrified out of her mind.
I am, too.
I am fucking terrified she's going to realize what I already know. She's been right about me all along. I am a fucking asshole who doesn't deserve her. And I have no clue how to become someone who does.
"Moreno!" Coach shouts, stomping into the locker room after the first period, his face red and his expression hard. The door slams behind him as he stomps in my direction.
Son of a bitch. He's been pissed all day because I'm all over the news again. There are few things he dislikes more than seeing our names on the news when it's unrelated to the game.
"What the fuck are you doing out there, kid?"
"Defending the goal," I mutter, mopping sweat from my face with a towel.
"I've seen toddlers stop pucks better than you have tonight," he growls, stopping in front of me.
Shit, he probably isn't wrong. My mind has been all over the place. The one place it hasn't been is on the ice. I need to get my shit together and get my head in the game before we lose it. They're killing us out there right now because I'm fucking up.