This Is Wild Read online Natasha Madison (This is #2)

Categories Genre: Contemporary, Romance, Sports Tags Authors: Series: This Is Series by Natasha Madison
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Total pages in book: 123
Estimated words: 114467 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 572(@200wpm)___ 458(@250wpm)___ 382(@300wpm)
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I try not to laugh at the way he says M&M, but it gets me every time. “Why? What’s the matter?”

“Zoe is bringing a date,” Matthew says, and I try not to let my face change as my heart sinks. Just the thought makes my stomach ​burn. This is what I’ve wished for, for her to date and find that perfect guy for her. Keep telling yourself that.

“It’s not a date,” Max says. “Allison says that she’s known him since forever, and they work out at the same gym.”

“So what’s the problem?” I ask, and Evan just watches me without saying a word. “She’s a beautiful woman, so she’s bound to go on dates.”

“Don’t talk about my sister like that,” Matthew says, and now Evan laughs. “You can’t call her beautiful. It’s weird.”

“But she is.” I shrug my shoulders. “But if she says it’s not a date, then maybe they’re just friends.” I look around. “Anyway, I want to hit the gym before we have to warm up,” I say, walking away from them to the locker room. I change and head to the gym, but I don’t push myself too hard, saving the energy for the game.

When I skate out for the warmup, I try not to let my eyes go to the box where ​I know she’s in. I try to force myself to look anywhere else but there. But I’m a glutton for punishment because I look up anyway. I spot her immediately, but she isn’t looking at the game or the ice. She’s standing there holding a glass of wine in her hand and talking to a man who looks like a grease ball. Okay, maybe he is clean cut and proper, and he looks like he works out, but he’s standing there, and all he's doing is talking while she looks at him with a fake smile. Anyone who knows her knows it’s a fake smile. I force myself to take my turn in the warmup and focus on the team and the game, and when I score the first goal of the game, I force myself not to admit that I did it for her to see me.

We skate off the ice after a win of three to two, high-fiving some ​fans while we skate off. “It’s always good to win on a Saturday night,” Mark says, taking off his goalie mask.

“It’s always good to win, period,” I tell him, sitting down. The coach comes in and does his whole good and bad speech. No one ​really undresses, knowing that the press will be coming in right after. Once the coach leaves, the press comes in, and after twenty minutes, they are ushered out, and we can finally undress.

“Are you going to join us?” Evan says. “We are going to the pub.”

I think about it for a minute. The choices are either go home to the darkness in my apartment, or go and sit down, watching Zoe and her boyfriend. “No, I think I’m going to pick something up to eat and just crash.”

“Yeah, Zara already told me she wants to be in and out,” he says. “Did you get the email for Thanksgiving?”

“I did this morning,” I tell him. “It sounds like a good thing.” I got the email this morning asking whoever didn’t have plans to think about spending the day giving back to the community.

“It started a while ago when Allison was the PR. We all went to the hospital and celebrated. Last year was amazing. Most of the team and their families came out.”

“Aren’t we traveling that night?” I ask him. “We have a game the night before, and then Friday, we are in Philly and then back that night, right?”

“It’s going to be tight, but we’ll make it happen,” he says.

“I’m going to tell Max to count me in,” I tell him and then go to the shower. When I finally finish dressing, I’m one of the last ones left since I ​have no need to rush.

That night I eat standing up in the kitchen and when I finally crash, my dreams are of me smiling and happy, holding Zoe’s hand. But right before I kiss her, the blackness comes, and I’m down the rabbit hole. I fight off the blackness, trying to focus only on the light. I always focus on finding the light these days.

When I slip on my black jeans and jersey to go to Thanksgiving, I’m feeling just a touch lighter on my feet. I know I’ll see her, but I don’t know if ​she’ll be alone. I have to be honest, I don’t give a fuck. I just want to see her, talk to her, even if it’s just to ask her how she’s doing.

I look at myself in the mirror, which I’ve been doing a lot of lately. “It’s going to be a good day.” I’ve been taking the positive approach. “If she’s there with someone, you are going to happy for her.” The voice inside my head laughs.“No, you’re not. You’re going to just wish you were him.” I shake my head and walk out of the apartment with my bag for tonight.


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