Total pages in book: 132
Estimated words: 125213 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 626(@200wpm)___ 501(@250wpm)___ 417(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 125213 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 626(@200wpm)___ 501(@250wpm)___ 417(@300wpm)
We met up for photo ops. We had a “secret” engagement party with close friends and family that ended up all over the Internet. We held hands walking side by side in Los Angeles, pretending to talk and laugh only to be completely silent on the drive back to the airport.
But that was it.
We no longer hung out outside of the stunts. She didn’t ask me to stay, and she declined me when I tried to get her to.
It was all business now.
And it fucking killed me.
Especially as we sped closer to our expiration date on this whole charade.
Giana was thrilled with the sponsorships that had rolled in for me this season. We’d filmed so many commercials in August and September that I already knew I was going to be sick of my own face now that they were all airing.
A fast-food restaurant, a shoe brand, an energy electrolyte drink…
Add in that my jerseys continued to sell like hotcakes and we’d sold out the first ten games of the season, and Richard Bancroft was more than tickled pink with this whole arrangement.
On my end, the deal was done.
And we weren’t far behind when it came to Mia.
Soon, I knew Isabella would be ready to pull the plug. Garrett Orange had already been silenced for the most part. The album was a success. The tour was already shaping up to break records. I’d served my purpose.
How much longer would they need me?
How much longer would I have an excuse to hold her, to touch her, to kiss her before I’d be asked to fake breaking her heart?
If I was being honest, it didn’t feel like something I needed to fake at the moment. It felt like something I’d already done.
I just didn’t know how.
“I still can’t believe you’re getting married,” Carter said, shaking his head as he untied his skates. “To Mia Fucking Love. I mean, look, I know we’re not all best buddies or anything, but… you didn’t tell a single soul.”
“Why would I?”
He shrugged. “To let us share in the excitement with you? To practice your speech? To… I don’t know, have a fucking friend to celebrate with?”
“I don’t—”
“Have friends, yeah, yeah, I know,” Carter cut me off, standing with a sigh as he ripped his practice jersey overhead. He paused for a long moment before turning to face me. “Doesn’t that ever get old to you? Doesn’t it ever get… lonely?”
I couldn’t explain why his gaze felt like a knife through my chest, why my face grew hot the longer I went without being able to pop back a sarcastic or unaffected response. I swallowed what felt like a glob of sandy peanut butter before slapping on my signature smirk.
“I’ve been lonely my whole life, kid.”
Carter’s brows tugged inward, and I couldn’t take the fucking pathetic way he was looking at me. I stood, holding up my fist for him to bump.
“See you in the morning. Get some good rest, because I fully intend to kick your ass on that ice.”
I turned and stripped out of my clothes quickly before heading toward the shower, not leaving any room for further discussion.
In the shower, I overheard one of the televisions from the training room talking about a hurricane moving toward Cuba, its path after that still unknown.
I couldn’t help but feel another storm brewing deep inside me.
Stupid Girl
Mia
It was eerily calm when our plane touched down in Tampa in mid-October.
The way we came in, you never would have known there was a hurricane wreaking havoc in Cuba. Weather experts were anticipating that it would gain strength over the warm waters of the Gulf before swinging up toward Louisiana.
But in Tampa, it was sunny, just some fluffy white clouds coasting over the blue sky in a pattern that swirled if you watched it close enough. It was as if that storm was sucking up all the energy within its vicinity, leaving nothing but sunshine for the outskirts.
And everyone was business as usual.
Isabella swore to me there was nothing to worry about when we made the arrangements for me to come to Aleks’s game before heading up the coast to New York for my first set of shows. She used to live in Florida, and she assured me that everyone would stock up on water and some non-perishable food just in case but that the most that would happen would be a little wind and rain.
Nothing to worry about, nothing that could interfere with my flight out of here tomorrow.
I texted that pink-haired brat as I descended the stairs off the plane, letting her know I’d landed fine and that I’d call when I made it to the house. We’d been able to secure the same one on Davis Island for the past couple of months of this charade with Aleks, and it basically felt like a second home at this point.