Total pages in book: 62
Estimated words: 59092 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 295(@200wpm)___ 236(@250wpm)___ 197(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 59092 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 295(@200wpm)___ 236(@250wpm)___ 197(@300wpm)
I hate how pathetic I am because of Preston. By shedding tears for him, I allowed him to have power over me. Not anymore. I call the shots in my life. It will not be dictated by a man ever again.
Dismissing his message, I return back to my music library to choose a new playlist. This time, I go with something more upbeat, but still angry. Joan Jett’s voice penetrates my ears, the sound a welcome relief. I turn the page in my textbook, my eyes pointing down at it.
My thoughts drift to Preston for a second instead of my book, and I curse him for it. He was always a distraction. Even without him in my life, he still gets under my skin. Because he’s a part of me. He’s the love of my life.
I try to be strong—because that’s how I was raised. My father was never emotional and had no clue how to raise a girl after my mother left. His response to everything was to slap a Band-Aid over it and get back on the court or the ice. But no number of bandages can close the wound left open by Preston.
Another text pops up on my phone. I stare it and sigh, pushing the phone away with my fingers. What’s with all the text messages? He could have called or showed up at my dorm room. I’m holding out until he decides to man up and apologize the right way.
By the time I finish my reading assignment, I receive another text. This time I read it.
Preston: I can see you ignoring my texts.
I roll my eyes at the phone and consider responding. Nope, not gonna happen.
Another text comes in.
Preston: I can literally see you rolling your eyes at me.
I huff, now glancing around the vacant loft that occupies the top floor of the library. No one is up here with me. He’s just messing with me. Or so I think.
Preston steps out from the row to my left. He looks gorgeous in a pair of tight jeans and a fitted dark tee that stretches over his muscles framing his thick chest. He shoves his hand through his hair to push it off his forehead looking like a GQ model.
My stomach clenches, my nipples hardening from his simple gesture. No matter how much I want to hate him, I can’t ignore the feeling I get when I’m around him. He’s always had this effect on me.
Pretending as if I don’t care, I lean back in my chair and cross my arms over my chest. “What do you want?”
“Don’t be like this, Bex.” He approaches the table and stands there, towering over me. “I’m sorry. You have no idea how sorry I am. I know there are no words that can make up for what I did to you, but I have never been sorrier in my life.” He drops to one knee next to my chair and tugs at my hand.
I allow him to take it, and he weaves his fingers between mine. Electricity pricks my skin. Tiny bumps travel up my arms. He glances down at my hand and then brings it to his mouth to plant a kiss on my skin. It’s soft and sensual, more delicate than he’s ever been.
“I love you, Bex. I’ve known that I love you for a while now. I should have said it back to you at the hospital. I never should have pushed you away. My biggest regret isn’t fighting Lehane or getting suspended by the NCAA. It’s losing you.”
Tears fall from my eyes, and he wipes them away. We stare at each other. Preston waits for me to respond, and I wonder what to say. But I have no idea what to do.
Because I love him.
I’ve missed him.
I want him.
I need him.
“Say something, Bex.” His voice is deep and modulated, so smooth it soothes me.
“I’m still mad at you. How do you expect me to trust you when you walked away as soon as times got tough? I’m afraid you’ll do it again.”
“I won’t.” He massages my hand with his long fingers, and it feels so damn good. “I promise to never shut you out again. I want you to be part of every aspect of my life. The good. The bad. The in-between. I want you to be there for all of it. And I want to be there for you. I really do love you, Bex. So fucking much it hurts. I feel like someone’s digging a knife into my chest when I’m not with you. I haven’t been able to sleep. I can’t eat. At first, I thought it was because of hockey, but I now know it’s because of you.”
“You’ve made the last few weeks of my life miserable, Preston.” I try to hold his gaze but have to look away. He blots more of my tears with his thumb, forcing me to look at him again. “I don’t know what to say or what to do. I’ve been through a lot over the years. I can’t take anymore.”