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)
“Why would Carter know?”
Still flustered, I run through the text exchange from Carter, telling Jason everything.
“Shit,” Jason says, and he sounds guilty.
“What? What is it?” I ask, strung tight with something worse than nerves. With utter fear.
“He asked about the hat at the bookstore event. Well, he asked if I was working with Seductive. He said he thought he saw a Seductive hat at my house.”
I sink onto the beanbag and drop my head in my hands. This is bad. This is so fucking bad. “What did you say?”
“I said his mankini must have drained out his brains, and then Nate said something about it going to his balls. It was nothing, Beck. The whole thing was nothing. Carter laughed it off. No one thought it was a thing,” he says, trying to reassure me.
But clearly, Carter thought the hat was a thing, and it is a very big thing. My heart gallops like a thoroughbred in the Belmont Stakes. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Because you were already stressed that night,” Jason says, defensive and this close to exasperated. Then he takes a beat. “And I didn’t want you to worry,” Jason adds softly. “I wanted to handle it. I care about you.”
He sounds worried now—but in a way I never expected. Worried that he hurt me.
I drag a hand down my face, slumping deeper into the chair. “I’m not mad at you. I’m mad at myself. I should have told you I saw Nadia at the parking lot last week. When I kissed you,” I say, hoping he won’t hate me for hiding the truth.
The line goes deathly silent for several horrible seconds. “What did you say?” he whispers.
I feel like I’m confessing a crime. “When we pulled out, her car drove past us. I don’t think she saw us, and I didn’t want to say anything because we were having such a good time, and we’d made Thanksgiving plans, and I don’t want to be the guy constantly causing problems for you.” The words come out in a six-car pile-up.
Jason breathes out hard. Once. Twice. “We need to go see them. Now. I’ll pick you up. We have to figure out what to say.”
Then, he hangs up. Dread roars through me as I wait for him to arrive.
36
GETAWAY DRIVER
Jason
I pound on Beck’s door. I don’t care if his landlady sees me or hears me. We need a plan, stat.
Beck lets me in seconds later, and he’s a Jack-in-the-box. His jaw is tight. “Hey,” he bites out as he shuts the door, then jams a hand through his messy hair. That hand has been a frequent visitor there this morning.
My heart clutches and I want to make this better for him.
But I can’t fix this the way I want.
I follow him into his kitchen. We don’t touch. I stand by the stove and Beck leans against the counter, like magnets repelled.
I’m going to have to take the lead like I do with the team, even if it tears my heart in half.
There’s only one option, and I pray Beck gets that. “We need to tell them the truth,” I say.
Beck blinks, swallows, then blows out a breath. “Come clean,” he says like he’s absorbing the option.
“We can’t lie. We need to tell them we were involved. They obviously know, so we can’t deny it,” I continue.
He goes completely unreadable, his face suddenly a mask. That must be how he is on the field. That’s why he’s so good at the game. He transforms into a superhero. Finally, he speaks again. “Right. We can’t,” he says, and his voice is hollow.
This hurts so much. But coming clean isn’t all we have to do. The next part will be so much worse.
“And we have to—” I begin, but I can barely get the words out. They taste so awful.
He steps up, finishing for me. “We have to break up.”
My heart screams obscenities. It’s revolting against me. But at least I don’t have to convince Beck that this is the right thing to do. I take some small solace in being on the same page as we engineer our demise.
“I’m sorry, Beck,” I say, and every word hurts.
“I’m sorry too,” he repeats, moving like a cheetah. He closes the distance, cups my cheeks, and presses a poignant, goodbye kiss to my lips. When he steps away, he looks devastated.
Like I feel.
I ache to reassure him. To tell him we’ll connect in the off-season. We’ll find a way. But if the owners are about to ream us for messing around, we need to stop for good.
No matter how painful.
Words churn in my head. Words like I fell in love with you.
But that won’t help now. The only thing left to do is what I’ve always tried to do in life, in sports, in love—the right thing.