Total pages in book: 122
Estimated words: 117872 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 589(@200wpm)___ 471(@250wpm)___ 393(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 117872 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 589(@200wpm)___ 471(@250wpm)___ 393(@300wpm)
Carter scoffs. “I know that,” he says, like I’m an idiot for suggesting it.
“Then, what’s wrong?” I ask, confused.
Standing, he drags his hand through his hair as if he can untangle his annoyance that way. “You didn’t tell me sooner. You didn’t trust me,” he says, hurt. “You told me you weren’t dating, but you were seeing him all along and you thought I couldn’t handle the truth.”
I never imagined Carter would be devastated to be left out of the inner circle. But I don’t have an inner circle to be part of.
“That’s not it,” I press. “I didn’t tell anyone. I was afraid of what people would think.”
He stabs his chest. “I’m people. I don’t care that he’s your rival. You’re my guy, and I look out for you, but you couldn’t even tell me.”
My heart twists. His points are completely fair. “I’m sorry, Carter. I didn’t know how to deal with everything—the new team and the move, and then I met this guy I’d had a crush on for years, and he liked me too. It was all so overwhelming. I think I was afraid if I said anything to anyone I’d ruin what was happening,” I admit. “It’s way harder to tell you this than it was to tell you I was withdrawing from the auction because I wasn’t comfortable being on stage. And hey, you’re the only one who knew about the auction.”
He scoffs, but a smile sneaks through for a second. He’s softening. I think. “Did you back out of the auction because of McKay?”
I raise my right hand and swear, “I backed out because of me.”
“Fine, but . . .” His lips twitch slightly. “Can we talk about the part where you’ve had a crush on McKay for years?”
My cheeks heat.
“Aww. That’s cute. Tell me more about the crush, though,” he says, wiggling his fingers. “When did it start?”
I don’t want to go all teen diary with him, but I owe him. “More than two years ago,” I grumble. “Before I became a starter.”
He bats his lashes. “That’s fucking adorable.”
“Thanks,” I deadpan.
“C’mon. Let me have this moment. You kept a big secret from me when I told you everything, so I am going to enjoy the fuck out of your crush on Jason McKay,” he says, beyond smug.
I let him have his moment. “By all means, enjoy. While you’re enjoying it, though, I’ll tell you I still have a crush on him.”
Carter sighs like he’s satisfied. Then claps me on the shoulder. “I’m pissed you thought you couldn’t trust me, but you’re still my guy, and I’ll get over it. But if I’m not the first person on the team you told, I will lose my ever-loving mind.”
“I had to tell Wilder Blaine. You’re the first teammate I’ve told,” I assure him, glad I’m back on solid footing. But I figure I’ll need to keep proving myself to him, and I’m here for that.
“All right,” he says, rubbing his palms together. “Who’s next?”
I wince like a doctor jabbed me with the flu shot. “Everyone else.”
“Let’s do this.”
We leave the weight room. The heavy lifting is about to begin.
44
YOU HAD ONE JOB
Jason
Practice is sloppy. Devon misses throws. Xavier drags. Andre misses a couple easy tackles.
When it mercifully ends, Coach calls the starters to the edge of the field. He stalks to the left tackle. Andre has six inches on Coach, but the guy who protects my blindside looks like a kid when Coach stares up at him.
“You miss those on Sunday, your QB goes down,” Coach barks at Andre.
“I know, sir. Sorry, sir,” Andre says.
“Sorry doesn’t cut it on game day. Your job is to protect the quarterback. You have one job,” Coach says, and I cringe inside. Andre is such a gentle giant when he’s not on the field. This has to be killing him. “And you need to do a better job at your job.”
He wheels around to Elroy and Johnson, pointing at them. “Same for you two. Are we going back to the mistakes you made at the start of the season? I have no patience for that.”
“No, sir,” Elroy says.
“We’re not, sir,” Johnson seconds.
Then, Coach strides over to the new guy, singling out Xavier. “And I expect better of you. You came here in September strutting on the field like a peacock, but you need to keep your head in the game. Are you all distracted from the auction last night?” Coach whips his gaze to Devon next. “Was it just too exciting”—he stops to sketch air quotes—“when you went for a higher bid than you thought?”
Are you kidding me? He’s on our case because we did a charity event?
Before Devon can answer, I step out of the circle, closer to Coach, prepared to take the heat. “It’s not Sunday, Coach,” I say. “It’s Friday. It’s practice. Andre shows up in every single game. So does Devon. So do Elroy and Johnson and Xavier. So does every single guy here. We all do.”