Total pages in book: 104
Estimated words: 100294 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 501(@200wpm)___ 401(@250wpm)___ 334(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 100294 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 501(@200wpm)___ 401(@250wpm)___ 334(@300wpm)
I bury my face in his chest, breathing him in. No one has ever made me feel this safe. This seen. This cared for without strings. It’s marvelous and overwhelming at the same time.
“Thank you,” I whisper.
He holds me tighter. “Always, Buttercup. Whatever you need.”
Luke turns off the water and wraps me in a towel, drying me as if I’m the most precious thing in the world.
Then he dresses me like I’m fragile. I let him, too overwhelmed with emotion to say anything.
The drive back to campus is quiet. His hand stays in mine on the center console, and I don’t let go, not even when we park.
“Luke,” I say, stopping him before he opens his door.
He turns to look at me.
“I’m all in,” I tell him. “Whatever this is, whatever comes next, I’m not going anywhere.”
He leans over and kisses me, soft and slow. “Me neither.”
We walk back to the dorms together, fingers laced, the case waiting, the world waiting, but for this moment, just this, we have each other.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
LUKE
Coach’s voice cracks like a whip across the parking lot behind me, “Locke, bus, now!” but my mouth is still on Madeline’s, stealing one last, faint taste of strawberry from her lip balm. She laughs against my lips, a small, startled sound that hits me in the center of my chest.
She doesn’t try to stop my PDA any longer. Madeline goes along with it, even though she gives an eye roll. I know she’s into it. Madeline isn’t a girl you can make do anything if she doesn’t want to.
Everything between us has shifted and feels more settled since the other day in the shower. She really is all in. I have to say I love that about her. That passion she has inside of her. I’ve never had that. I don’t think many do around here. Not when things are handed to them on a platinum platter. But she’s changing that for me.
I pull back just far enough to see her eyes, bright with mischief, then kiss her again, slower, because tonight feels three states away. I already know she’s rooming with Georgia while I get my own room with the team. I picture every hallway between us and hate all of them.
Grant claps me on the shoulder. “Dude, you’re gonna get us all wind sprints.” It would be worth it. Besides, Coach isn’t going to wear us out before tonight’s game.
Coach screams my name again, and I finally step back, but I don’t look away from her. “Text me when you get there.” I tell myself I’m only being this psycho because of all the bullshit going on. But I’m fairly confident I’d still be acting this way if there wasn’t a murderer on the loose. I’m sure a therapist would have a field day analyzing why I have latched on so tightly to Madeline, but they can go fuck themselves.
Everyone is still wondering what the police were doing down by the lake. They have done a good job of keeping it under wraps, but it’s only a matter of time before it’s announced.
“I will,” she promises, and her smile is so open, so hers, that I almost pull her back in. “Go.” Now it’s her giving me an order.
“All right,” I say. “But don’t be saying I’m the bossy one.” She laughs, and I have to force myself to turn and start walking. Every step away from her feels wrong, like gravity working in reverse. Unnatural.
Grant falls in step beside me, shaking his head. “Never thought I’d see the day.”
“Shut up. You’ve been here two seconds.” You wouldn’t know it, though. Grant is excellent at blending in and making friends.
He laughs, not meanly, just surprised. “Seriously, Locke. You’re fucking cooked for her.”
I don’t respond. Can’t. Because he’s right.
We step onto the bus. It’s one of those luxury coaches Kingmakers rents for away games—leather seats, tinted windows, actual legroom. I take a window seat and immediately check my phone. No messages. It’s been two seconds, I remind myself. I’m being ridiculous.
My thumb hovers over her name. I shouldn’t text her already. I just left her. But my chest feels hollow, and I need to fill it with something.
Me: On the road yet?
I hit send before I can stop myself. Pathetic. I’m really pathetic.
My phone buzzes almost immediately.
Buttercup: You haven’t pulled out of the parking lot yet. LOL. I’m hopping into Georgia’s car now.
The bus lurches forward. I watch through the window, searching for Georgia’s car. I spot it pulling out behind us, and I can just make out Madeline’s head through the tinted glass.
She’s right there. Forty feet away. Might as well be forty miles.
Grant slides into the seat across the aisle. “Dude, you gonna stare at that car the whole ride?”
“Maybe.”
He laughs again but softer this time. “She’s good for you. You know that, right?”