Total pages in book: 98
Estimated words: 95776 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 479(@200wpm)___ 383(@250wpm)___ 319(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 95776 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 479(@200wpm)___ 383(@250wpm)___ 319(@300wpm)
Once Dad releases me, his lips lift into a smile. After he disappears down the hallway, I close the door and sag against it.
This has officially become the week from hell.
With a sinking heart, I realize it’s not over yet.
Chapter Thirty-Three
Beck
The spiral I throw lands perfectly in Colton’s hands. Whatever problem he had been struggling with earlier in the season seems to have worked itself out.
Thank fuck, because that’s the last thing we need right now. We have four games under our belt, and eight more to go. It’s still early, but we have an undefeated record.
When Coach blows his whistle, signaling the end of practice, I unsnap the chin strap and pull off my helmet, letting it dangle from my fingers. Colton jogs toward me, meeting me as we head off the field.
Grinning from ear-to-ear, he holds out his hand for a fist bump.
“Looking good out there,” I tell him. “Nice to see you got your groove back.”
“Damn right I did, baby!” He flashes a grin as relief oozes from every pore of his body. “And not a moment too soon with the Alabama game coming up.”
Already I know it’ll be a tough one. Both mentally and physically. We’re neck and neck with Alabama. After next Saturday, one of us will be first in the conference and I’m going to do everything in my power to make sure it’s us.
I’m glad Colton finally got his head out of his ass and into the game. I don’t know what’s changed, and I don’t particularly give a crap. All I care about is that he’s squared away. Seems ironic that as soon as Colton pulls it together, my shit falls apart. Although, I’ll be damned if I let it mess with my game.
I keep telling myself that maybe, in the long run, it’s better this way. For a long time, I thought Mia was the one. Turns out that’s not the case. The bitch of it is everything had been going so well. I’d really hoped…
I shut down that line of thinking before it can spread like a contagious virus and infect my bloodstream.
Colton rams his elbow into my side, and I glare. “What the fuck, dude?”
He lifts his chin toward the bleachers. “What’s Mia doing here?”
Huh?
My gaze sweeps over the stands before landing on her dark head in the second row.
“I don’t know,” I mutter, trying to ignore the way my heart lurches at the sight of her.
“Guess you’re gonna find out,” he says.
When she realizes I’m staring, she rises to her feet before moving down the cement stairs and stepping onto the track that circles the field.
Once we pull up to her, Colton stops and grins like a Cheshire cat. “Hey, Mia. Wasn’t expecting to see you here.”
The way his voice simmers with humor makes me want to knock him upside the head.
She smiles, but it’s not a full-blown one that reaches her eyes. There’s a wariness holding her back. “Hi.”
Silence falls over us before she clears her throat. “Beck, do you have a moment to talk?”
You know what?
I don’t need this bullshit right now.
Not with the upcoming games.
Not with the combine and draft.
For years, I let this girl mess with my head, and I can’t afford to do it any longer.
I always thought there might be a chance for us, but I was wrong. What I’ve learned is that you can’t force a relationship to work, no matter how much you might want to. It took me awhile, but I finally got it through my thick head.
We weren’t meant to be.
End of story.
That being said, do I have more time to waste on Mia Stanbury?
Hell, no.
“Sure.”
Goddamn it.
Colton grins before taking off. “All right, bro, I’ll see you in the locker room.” And then he’s jogging to catch up with Devon Baker. They disappear through the tunnel and into the stadium.
The team walks past, and a few guys slap me on the back as they head to the locker room. There’s a lot of laughter and good-natured ribbing. Now that practice is over, everyone has perked up.
Sweat runs down the back of my neck before getting absorbed into the material of my jersey. I’m exhausted from two hours of drills. All I want to do is get out of these pads and hit the showers.
I squint against the sun as it dips behind the stadium. “What did you want to talk about?”
Mia wrings her hands as her gaze flits around the field. She looks like she’s being devoured by nerves. Part of me wants to reach out and put her at ease, but I refrain from touching her. Instead, I keep my arms locked at my sides. She made it perfectly clear the last time we spoke that she wants nothing to do with me.
So, as hard as it is, I wait.