Total pages in book: 70
Estimated words: 67801 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 339(@200wpm)___ 271(@250wpm)___ 226(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 67801 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 339(@200wpm)___ 271(@250wpm)___ 226(@300wpm)
Crap.
I set my tea down and wiped my chin with a paper towel before hurrying to the front door. I turned on the mini crystal chandelier, blinking against the sudden flood of light as I glanced in the mirror. Holy Fuck. Swollen eyes, blotchy face. I couldn’t open the door looking like this.
“Noah.”
I sighed as I turned the lock. “What are you doing here?”
Easton pushed the door open and brushed by me. “Checking on you.”
“Why? It’s my day off. I’m chilling out.”
A lock of hair fell over his creased forehead. “You don’t look chill. And everyone’s worried about you.”
“Why?”
“You told Jase to bring Lincoln to kick the ball around with your teammates after your scrimmage yesterday. Ring a bell?”
I furrowed my brow and pulled my cell out, wincing at the light show of blinking messages. “Shit.”
“Your teammates played with Linc and reminded Jase you’d been in Santa Barbara. They thought that you’d decided to stay another night and got stuck in traffic. Of course, no one knew for sure ’cause you weren’t answering your cell. I told Jase to get his panties out of his ass crack, but he was right…it’s not like you to go radio silent. So what’s up? You look okay.” Easton cocked his head and gave me a thorough once-over. “Scratch that. You look terrible. What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.” I sidled past him into the living room, switching on lights along the way.
“Try again. It’s not like you to turn your phone off.”
“No, but the battery was low,” I fibbed, sinking into the sofa. “I’ll call Jase now and sort out my texts. You worry too much, Eas.”
“Trust me, I know. And so does my ulcer.” Easton popped an antacid into his mouth and sat next to me, stretching his long legs in front of him. “But worrying is what I do best. And it’s a hard habit to break. Especially since I know you’re lying. C’mon, fess up. Did Santa Barbara suck eggs?”
I sighed. “You could say that.”
“What did he do? Do I need to kick his fucking ass?”
I rolled my eyes and tried to laugh, but it sounded more like a sad squeak. “It was me.”
“Hey.” Easton pulled me to his side and put his arm around my shoulders. “What happened, baby?”
I let out a ragged breath. “They told everyone I’m dead.”
“Huh? Who did?”
I launched into a recap of the over-the-top wedding shower and the last few minutes spent with my drunk host who swore I looked like the spitting image of my dad.
“Geez, I hadn’t seen a photo of either of them in years. It was surreal. I freaked out. Literally freaked out. Before I knew it, my gown was in tatters, my coach was a pumpkin, and the gig was up.”
Easton frowned. “The gig?”
“Stop being obtuse. You know what I’m talking about.” I grunted unhappily. “Everything was just…there. I literally poured my guts out and slashed myself open. Every ugly secret laid bare.”
“You could have told them you were alive and well.”
“There’s no point. I knew Remington’s name. My dad told me about his interview the week before…you know.” I wiped my nose on my forearm. “And that day, he called to tell me he got the job. He was stoked. It was more money, a better package. He was going to give his notice and come hang out with me in Miami for a few days. I couldn’t wait. I got him tickets to the games and cleaned my condo so it would be ready for him. None of that happened. It’s like he died that day too, but the truth is…he lives an hour away and it just—it fucking kills me.”
“Shh…c’mere.” Easton held me while I mourned. “It’s their loss, Noah. It’s on them. I know it hurts, but you gotta concentrate on you and your future. You have good people in your life…like the professor.”
I pushed out of his arms. “I don’t have the professor.”
“Oh, Noah. What did you do?”
“I did the right thing. He’s a good man. He can’t be touched by that dirt.”
“Noah, listen to me,” Easton growled. “There is no dirt. That’s old news.”
“It’s still my story.”
“So what? It doesn’t mean you have to be alone. Stop punishing yourself.” He put his hand on my knee and fixed me with a harsh stare. “It’s not good to cut people out of your life every time they get close to you.”
“I don’t do that.”
“Yeah, you do. You’d cut me out if I let you,” he snorted. “It’s obvious that you like this guy. If he knows who you are, isn’t that enough? What are you afraid of?”
“Afraid?” I rounded on him angrily. “I’m not afraid.”
He held a hand up. “Wrong choice of words. How about scared? Is that better?”
I flipped him off. “I’m not scared.”
“Everyone is scared of something.”
“What are you afraid of?”