Total pages in book: 130
Estimated words: 125852 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 629(@200wpm)___ 503(@250wpm)___ 420(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 125852 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 629(@200wpm)___ 503(@250wpm)___ 420(@300wpm)
We run a few more plays, Mason back out on the field this time before practice is called.
I drop onto the bench, tearing my helmet off, and take several long pulls from the water hose. I sit back, swiping a towel across my face and neck, my chest heaving from exertion.
I fucking love this feeling, the hard work, the grind, day in and day out.
A ball hits me in the chest, and my head snaps forward to find Alister stalking over.
A grin splits my lips. “Uh-oh, pretty boy’s pissed.”
“Fuck you.” He frowns. “You’re the one acting like a dick because you’re pretending to date my fucking—”
I’m on my feet in a second flat, bent at the knee to make us eye level. “You’re…what, huh?”
He seethes, lip curling, but says nothing.
“Your biggest regret? Your biggest fucking loss?” I press my forehead hard into is, driving him backward. “’Cause we both know that’s all she’ll ever be to you now.”
He pulls back and swings, clipping me across the jaw.
My teammates rush in, pulling us apart, and I let them, keeping my eyes locked on his with each foot of distance put between us.
I shake the guys off, glaring at the asshole who made my Cammie Girl cry. I knew I’d hit a nerve with that one, but at least I know for sure now Cameron is right: he’s decent enough to feel bad about what he did.
“That was your one free shot, Howl,” I warn with a grin. “You won’t get another.”
He opens his mouth, but Coach appears, and he clamps his mouth closed like a good boy. Coach looks between us, eyes narrowed, but when no one says a word, only going back to cleaning shit up, he doesn’t ask.
“Harper!” Coach calls out instead.
I look over just as Chase lifts his head.
“Coach?” his brows pull.
“My office after you’re all done out here.”
Chase meets my gaze with a slight frown, his chin jerking in a nod as he looks back at the man. “Yes, Coach.”
With that, he walks away, and we hurry through our tasks, cleats crunching against the concrete as we head back into the locker room.
It’s not until I get back to my locker, Alister’s shit still hanging in his, that I realize he didn’t come in when we did.
No. He stayed out on the field, and I only need one guess as to why.
Determined little dickhead.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Cameron
“What’s the matter, baby boy?” I ask Deaton, slowly lowering onto the couch beside him, little Abby in my arms.
He rubs his eyes, tears smearing across his cheeks as his lip starts to wobble.
“Aw, Big Guy.” I reach for him with one hand, and instantly, Abby starts wailing again. “Shit. I mean crap.” I shift her, picking up Deaton in my left arm, and stand, trying to bounce them both. “Baby boy, what happened? You okay?”
He buries his face in my chest, and Abby lifts her head, pushing at his shoulder to try and get me all to herself.
“Abby, honey, be nice to Deaton. He’s your friend.”
She starts kicking, her cries getting louder.
Thankfully, Junie walks in two seconds later. When her eyes meet mine, wide and begging for help, she chuckles and walks over.
“Is that my friend Abigail I see?” Junie softens her tone, and slowly, Abby looks over at her. Junie smiles, putting her hands on her hips. “It is you! I’m so happy you came back to play today.”
Abby’s cries start to soften, though now she’s hiccupping from crying so long. Poor baby nearly breaks down every time her daddy drops her off for day care, which seems to happen more than her mama dropping her off lately. She’s been here for twenty minutes, and this is the first deep breath she’s taken.
Junie comes up with her arms outstretched, and after only a moment’s hesitation, Abby leans over into her arms. “And now what happened to this little man, huh?” She rubs her hand along Deaton’s back, and I hoist him higher, kissing his temple.
I freeze, rubbing my cheek along his forehead before quickly pulling back and pressing the back of my hand to his face. “Junie… please tell me he doesn’t have a fever.”
“Okay, don’t panic on me, Cameron. Babies do get sick, often this time each year and when they’re in day care.”
“But he’s never been sick before.”
“I’m sure he has. Like I said, children get sick.” Junie looks him over and hums. “His cheeks are a bit flushed. I’ll get the thermometer, poor guy.”
Deaton tucks his arms in, hiding his face in my chest, and I lower into the rocking chair with him, patting his back. “It’s okay, D. Marley, honey, no throwing toys,” I call out.
Junie is back as fast as she disappeared, and Abby finally lets her put her down, all tears forgotten as she runs over to play with the plastic kitchen set.