Total pages in book: 42
Estimated words: 39249 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 196(@200wpm)___ 157(@250wpm)___ 131(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 39249 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 196(@200wpm)___ 157(@250wpm)___ 131(@300wpm)
"It means that she's lived in our shadows her entire life, just like you said," he mutters. "And she wants nothing to do with this world. She only shows up because she loves us, and no matter how hard we try to convince her that she doesn't have to deal with it, not a goddamn thing in the world stops Hattie when she loves you." He holds my gaze, his eyes boring into me. "In a week, you'll be gone. And she'll be the one left to deal with the fallout from being linked to you. But she isn't thinking about that right now. All she's thinking about is surviving our mother."
This time, my jaw clenches hard enough to shatter. I want to tell him that I'm not going anywhere, that once the wedding ends, I'll still be right by her side. But just because I want that, doesn't mean she does. And right now, I'm not entirely sure that is what she wants. She thinks what's happening between us is just sex.
Somehow, we went from fake dating to fucking in the blink of an eye, and that's all she's ready to let herself have. Unless I can change that, the sad truth is that Tye is right. In a week, I will be gone. She'll kick my ass out of her life to protect her own peace.
And that peace doesn't involve a cranky football star with a fanbase.
Fuck.
My heart thuds unevenly, something that feels a lot like panic surging through me. I have a week to strip all of that away and make her see me—to make her fall for me—or this is it. This is all of her that I'll ever have.
It isn't enough. It won't ever be enough.
"I can't lose her."
"Motherfucker."
I glance over at Tye in time to see his expression go thunderous.
"You motherfucker!" he growls. "You slept with her, didn't you?"
I grit my teeth, trying to keep my temper in check. "That's not your business, Tye."
"The hell it isn't!" he roars loud enough for half the team to turn in our direction. "You stood in that locker room on Monday and swore she'd be safe with you. You didn't even keep your word for a fucking day before you had her bent over the nearest fucking surface like some che—"
My fist slams into his face before I even give myself permission to move. Pain lances up my arm as he stumbles backward, but I ignore it, grabbing him by the collar of his jersey.
"Shit!" someone on the field yells.
"Disrespect her like that again, and I'll break your fucking nose next time," I snarl.
"Get the fuck off me!" He tries to throw me off, but I cling to him, my heart pounding.
"Be pissed at me," I growl. "Say whatever the fuck you want to say about me. But don't ever minimize her importance or talk about her like that ever again."
"Sid!" someone shouts behind us. "Let him go, man!"
Several of our teammates are on top of us a second later, trying to pry me off of him. I don't let him go, though. I hold on, our gazes locked.
"Goddammit, Sidney," Marco growls. "There are reporters here, man."
Shit.
I let Tye go like he burned me, whipping around to face the line of reporters standing against the fence, snapping photos like this is a goddamn fashion show.
Jesus. How much did they catch? Judging from the grim look on Marco's face…too much.
Hattie is going to fucking kill me.
I step away from Tye, my heart somewhere near my feet.
"I'm marrying your sister," I say quietly. "When you're ready to deal with that fact like a goddamn adult, come find me."
Tye grunts, but doesn't say anything.
I shrug Marco off, stumbling away.
Christ, I shouldn't have hit Tye. Hattie will be devastated when those photos hit the news, especially when she's plastered all over the news right beside them.
I fucked up.
I fucked up so goddamn badly.
Chapter Seven
Hattie
I'm neck deep—literally—in a stack of books when my mother calls. I consider sending her to voicemail, but I'm a little worried she might actually set foot inside a library for once in her life if I ignore her.
I scramble for my phone, grabbing it from my purse at the last second.
"Hello?" I pant, out of breath. Sorting and restocking books is hard work. It's even harder when you have to take breaks every so often to skim through the pages. Look, I didn't choose the reader life. The reader life chose me.
"It took you long enough to answer."
"I'm at work, Mom," I remind her…not that she ever remembers that I have a job. Her idea of work and mine are drastically different. She's been pampered and spoiled her entire life, and I think she takes it as a personal failure that I refuse to live the same way.