Total pages in book: 147
Estimated words: 140742 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 704(@200wpm)___ 563(@250wpm)___ 469(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 140742 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 704(@200wpm)___ 563(@250wpm)___ 469(@300wpm)
It’s a lot to wrap my head around. Dealing with people is exhausting enough without questioning their motives, and this situation has proven to be damn near draining. Loud pounding on my bedroom door makes me nearly jump out of my skin as I step out of the bathroom.
“Miss Josslyn,” Tamara says from the other side. “Mr. Barlow is on the phone. He says you haven’t answered his calls and he’s worried.”
I let out a breath as I unlock and open my bedroom door. Even with the three bodyguards Finn hired for me—the only reason he even agreed to go back to work—I can’t help feeling paranoid. The only time I leave the house is to go to basketball practice, and that’s only because our coach refuses to bring the practice to me.
The only personal post I’ve made on social media was one written on a black background letting people know I’m okay and thanking them for their well wishes. Everything else has been sponsored posts from brands that I’d previously set up. Maybe someday I’ll get back to sharing my life with the world, but I’m still too shaken up to do it.
Mallory betrayed my trust in so many ways, but what bothers me the most is the doubts she planted in my head. I can’t look at anyone—even my own teammates—without second-guessing their motives, and it’s not fair. Tamara gives me a comforting smile as she hands me her phone, and I thank her as I take it and set it to my ear.
“Hello?”
He exhales heavily. “I’ve been calling you.”
I turn away from Tamara. “I was in the shower. Can I call you from my phone or are you at the arena already?”
“Call me.” He hangs up and I hand Tamara back her phone.
“I’ll leave the door unlocked,” I tell her, walking back into my room and shutting the door.
“Did you hear?” Finn asks quietly when I call him back.
“Yeah.” I swallow hard and sit on his side of the unmade bed. “How are you feeling?”
“Not good,” he confesses in a whisper.
“I’m sorry,” I say and bite my lip hard to keep from crying again. It doesn’t work. “I’m so sorry.”
“No. You don’t…” He stops talking for a moment. “Don’t apologize, Josie.”
I swallow hard again and nod as I bat away tears.
“I’m glad she’s gone,” he says and pauses again as if to gauge my reaction. When I don’t say anything, he adds, “I know I should feel shitty about that.”
“It’s okay to feel angry, sad and relieved, you know?”
“Is it?” he asks, chuckling darkly. “I didn’t know that was an option.”
“Of course.” I smile, hoping he can hear it in my voice. “Your feelings are valid no matter what they are.”
He’s quiet for a long moment. “I love you.”
My stomach dips and I shift to lay my head on his pillow. “I wish you were here.”
He sighs. “Josslyn.”
“I’m glad you’re playing again. I want you to be there,” I say, hoping he hears the conviction in my voice. “But I also wish you were here. Maybe I’ll clone you.”
He chuckles. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
“Why? You don’t think I can handle two Finn Barlows?”
“I can’t handle thinking about you with two Finn Barlows.”
That makes me laugh. “But it would kind of be you.”
“I kind of don’t care. You’re mine and only mine,” he growls.
My heart skips again. “I love you, Finneas.”
Another sigh. “I have to go kick this team’s ass.”
“Go do your thing, Barlow. I’ll be watching from your side of the bed.”
He groans and mutters a few dirty things before we hang up. As soon as I’m alone again, I start thinking and a wave of sadness comes over me again when I think of Tate. According to my mom, his stab wound wasn’t deep and didn’t hit any vital organs, but the infection he got from leaving it unattended could have been fatal. Thankfully, they were able to help him and send him home. We both got lucky, I guess.
I haven’t spoken to him at all since everything went down, but he did send me a long text apologizing and telling me how things between him and Mallory started. My response was a thumbs up emoji. What else is there to say? Now, I’m the one who picks up the phone and sends him a text.
Me: I’m sorry about mal
I know everyone in my life—with the exception of my mother—would be opposed to me sending this, but I can’t help it. I’ll never like him or willingly hang out with him, but I hate knowing anyone is suffering alone. His response comes as I’m setting my phone to charge.
Tate: i am as well. How are you holding up? Finn?
My brows shoot up.
Me: the whole thing is fucked up, but we’re okay. At least, we will be