Total pages in book: 169
Estimated words: 162138 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 811(@200wpm)___ 649(@250wpm)___ 540(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 162138 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 811(@200wpm)___ 649(@250wpm)___ 540(@300wpm)
After today’s game, she was finally going to tell me everything and give me the name of the person who’d ruined her life. I couldn’t fucking wait to beat the motherfucker. She’d warned me not to do that, but I couldn’t see how I’d keep my hands to myself after everything she’d told me. I’d scoured the social media profiles of everyone she knew, including her father, trying to find bits of information that could tell me who it was, and I came up short every time. I felt for her when she told me about the crash and Luke’s death. That had to be a heavy cross to bear, especially since she blamed herself for it. But when she told me about the rape, I fucking lost it. I was going to make them wish they’d never been born. Man or woman, I didn’t care. Though if it was a woman, I might need to hire a woman to do the dirty work for me. I asked her why she didn’t go to the police, and she looked so scared at the mention of them that I knew it wasn’t an option. It was okay. I’d take care of it.
I was lost in thought, packing my shit, when Prescott and Mason walked into the locker room to pack their stuff.
“You going back home this week?” Mason asked.
“Yeah, until I figure out my next move.”
“You going to the party tonight?” he asked. “And are you finally going to tell me why you haven’t been going to any recently?”
“He went to mine,” Prescott said.
“Yeah, and everyone is tight-lipped about it, so I couldn’t even get any dirt,” Mason replied.
“I wanna know why you put money in the pot,” Aaron added as he walked in, catching the tail end of the question.
Drew and the other guys had come in having conversations but stopped when they heard Aaron’s question. They were nosey motherfuckers. I understood why they were so fascinated by this, though. Unless it was Friday night, I’d never been one to skip a party. I’d never put money in the dibs bin. Anyone who’d been at Prescott’s party already knew, but Mason was right. People had been tight-lipped about Lyla and me. It was shocking and nice to know that the people Prescott vetted were loyal and followed his rules. Lyla hadn’t given me the green light to tell people about us, but it was the last freaking day. It was my last day to talk shit with these guys and I wanted them to know. Besides, she would give me a name and tell me everything in detail after we won the game. What did it matter if I told my teammates just a few hours before then? What was said in this locker room always stayed here, so fuck it.
“I have a girlfriend,” I said.
I’d never said that aloud. Lyla had never said it aloud either. It seemed like such a dumb term, but it was the only way to describe what we had in a way people could understand. She was mine, and I was hers, period. So, if the term girlfriend explained that, I’d stick with it. I wasn’t surprised to see every single one of their jaws drop — everyone besides Prescott and Drew.
“Who?!” a few of them asked in unison.
“Ho-ly shit.” That was Mason.
I laughed and shook my head. The coaches were standing by the door with a couple of men who might as well be on the coaching staff, as much as they were around. They were cool, though, so I didn’t mind them hearing. Prescott seemed on edge from the beginning of the conversation, though, and I wondered if he’d go tell Lyla I did this. It didn’t matter.
“Did I just hear that Lachlan Duke has a fucking girlfriend?” Coach Rob asked loudly as the rest of them laughed.
“You did.”
“No fucking way.” That was Tucker, our goalie.
I shrugged.
“Who is it?” One of them said.
“You can’t drop some shit like this and not tell us.”
“Oh shit. I know who it is,” Mason said, eyes dancing.
“Who?” everyone shouted.
“Can I tell them?” he asked.
I shrugged. It was going to get out after the game, when I picked her up and kissed the fuck out of her in the middle of the ice, in front of everyone anyway.
“Lyla Marichal,” Mason announced, like she was about to walk into the room.
“Daaaaamn,” one of them said.
“You always get the hot ones,” another added. I couldn’t argue there.
“The one who wears all the baggy clothes and shit?” one asked.
That one made me laugh. I answered no questions. I didn’t need to. Even though they hadn’t heard what happened at Prescott’s party, rumors had already spread like wildfire from the previous one where I’d almost fought Mase. I wasn’t sure whether or not she knew. I had a feeling that if she found out people were talking about us together, she would have tried to get us to hold off on seeing each other. No way I was going to let that happen. I kept packing my shit, as I listened to them go on and on about the women who talked shit about Lyla because they were jealous of her. I didn’t like to hear that, but I knew it made no difference to her. Lyla didn’t give a shit what anyone thought of her.