Total pages in book: 55
Estimated words: 54520 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 273(@200wpm)___ 218(@250wpm)___ 182(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 54520 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 273(@200wpm)___ 218(@250wpm)___ 182(@300wpm)
Gunnar drops into the seat across from me, arms braced on his knees. “You wanna tell us what the hell’s going on between you two, or should we just keep pretending you aren’t five seconds away from either throwing down or fucking on the nearest surface?”
My expression never waivers. “Nothing to tell.”
He lifts his hands, clocking the shutdown. “All right, I’ll leave it alone. Just don’t blow up the night for Elle, or I’ll be forced to kick your ass.”
I grunt, reaching for my beer.
It’d be a fair fight, and he damn well knows it, but I’d rather not have to embarrass one of my best friends tonight.
Mike claps me on the shoulder as he stands for his final frame. “That was a hell of a strike, man. Now let’s see if I can finish us off strong.”
He heads for his last shot, leaving me wallowing in my thoughts.
That’s when I catch Dawson grinning at me like a fool.
“You got something to say, or are you just trying to piss me off?”
He smirks, not the least bit fazed. “Just glad it’s not Penny and me making shit awkward for once.”
Can’t argue with that.
Harlow and I might be volatile at times, but Dawson and Penny are a fucking war zone compared to us.
Wasn’t always like that. Hell, there was a time we all thought they’d be the first ones married with kids, but whatever went down senior year blew it all to hell.
I’ve never seen Dawson that fucked up.
Didn’t take him long to skip town after that. Left to the States with a football in one hand and heartbreak in the other.
Three years and a couple thousand miles didn’t do a damn thing for either of them. Now it just simmers beneath the surface, turning nights like this one into a goddamn minefield.
It makes shit difficult, but with Gunnar and Ellie having a baby, and Mike and Hollis getting hitched, there’s no escaping it…
We’re just one big group of dysfunctional assholes who pretend everything is fine, but half of us aren’t over our exes, the other half are lying to ourselves, and I’m two fucking seconds from blowing the whole damn charade sky high.
Mike returns with a proud grin, landing a strike and a spare to close out his game. “Better luck next time, ladies.”
Ellie stands, reaching for a ball nearly the size of her baby bump. “Hey, don’t count us out just yet. We’ve still got one frame left, and thanks to Harlow’s spare, we’re still in this.”
“That’s right,” Hollis fires back, nudging Harlow playfully.
She hits me with that self-satisfied smile, like I haven’t been drowning in her silence for the past two fucking weeks. It’s the spark that sets everything ablaze.
“Unless she bails on you,” I blurt, bitterness lacing the words. “She’s good at that. Running when shit gets too real.” My gaze collides with hers. “Especially the morning after. Isn’t that right, baby?”
I regret the words as soon as I say them.
Her face shatters, hurt and betrayal in every fragment.
“You bastard.” The words are ragged, barely making it past her throat before she grabs her jacket and hauls ass toward the door.
“Harlow, wait—” Ellie calls after her, but she’s already gone.
Gunnar’s on me in seconds. “What the fuck did I just say, man?”
I push to my feet, moving past him, regret pounding through me with every step. My gaze catches Ellie’s on the way out, the disappointment in her eyes landing harder than anything Gunnar could say.
Still, I don’t slow, knowing time is already against me.
I shove through the doors into the night, cold air hitting like a slap—brisk, sobering.
She’s already halfway across the lot, the distance between us widening by the second.
“Harlow, wait up!”
Not even a pause. If anything, she moves faster.
Jaw locked, I break into a jog and catch up, my fingers curling around her arm. “Would you fucking wait?”
“Don’t touch me!” She whips around, eyes blazing, and shoves me hard. “How dare you humiliate me like that?”
The hurt in her voice lodges in my throat. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean—”
“Save it!” she snaps, words sharp. “You meant it. You always mean it. And for what, Linc? Huh?” She shoves me again, harder this time. “What the hell do you want from me?”
“I want you to stop running,” I fire back. “Stop pretending nothing happened.”
“I’m not!”
“Bullshit.” My voice cracks through the night like a whip. “You ran all those years ago, and you’re running now.”
“I ran?” Her laugh is sharp and bitter. “You’re the one who went out with Jessica Mason before I even had my bags packed!”
The accusation hits like a slap, knocking me back a step. “What the hell are you talking about?”
“Don’t bother denying it,” she sneers, voice wavering. “I went to your house to give you back your stupid hoodie, and Cash told me all about your little date.”