Total pages in book: 92
Estimated words: 85616 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 428(@200wpm)___ 342(@250wpm)___ 285(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 85616 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 428(@200wpm)___ 342(@250wpm)___ 285(@300wpm)
Miles, as if sensing me, turned his head toward me for a quick second. He flashed a small grin and then returned to holding up Gabe’s arm and pushing it backward.
That didn’t feel like an I told Coach about us so we don’t have to worry kind of smile.
“What if fate fucked up?” I asked Eli.
“I don’t think that’s possible.”
I rubbed at my forehead. Stress and anxiety started making my chest feel like it was home to a colony of fire ants.
I’d walked into this locker room feeling like I was on top of the world and I was about to leave feeling crushed by it.
“Give it some time,” Eli said. “People are messy. Relationships aren’t always linear. Even the ones that are meant to be.”
I sighed. Had to push this out of my mind and get my head in the game. We were doing so well this season, I didn’t want to be the reason we didn’t get our chance at the Calder Cup. I thanked Eli for the quick and slightly reassuring chat and went back to getting ready.
It wasn’t long before I found myself thinking about it again and—to my credit—it was only because he’d come to check on me.
“I’m good,” I said, a little colder than I intended after he offered me some water. “Thanks,” I tagged on with a warm smile.
Miles could apparently see right through it. He took a seat next to me on the bench. “You sure you’re good?”
The room was getting rowdier as we got closer to game time. Chris was being teased by Derrick, one of the newer guys, while Soren scolded them both for entering his manifestation circle. The chirping was loud enough to conceal the conversation between Miles and me.
“I’m just feeling a little off, that’s all.” I wanted to brush it under the rug for right now. This wasn’t the time or the place to bring up my doubts, no matter how loud my anxious thoughts were trying to tell me it in fact was the perfect time and place.
“I can tell something’s off. Talk to me.” Miles leaned forward. His hand moved as if he was about to place it on my knee but stopped, setting it between us on the bench.
He couldn’t even reach out and touch me when I could use his comfort. That’s how fucked this fated mates situation was. I was setting myself up for a trainwreck. Just like my mom had done with my dad, ignoring all the red flags he threw on the field for the couple of green ones he waved in the air.
Holding his hand back was a small thing compared to all the powerful moments we’d already shared, but sometimes small things morphed to be elephant-sized in my head. And I’d already been feeling that dark gray storm cloud hovering over me. This just added the wind and the hail.
“I don’t think this is going to work anymore, Miles.” I said it as if I had to rip off a Band-Aid. Like I had to hold a burning hot iron rod so I could cauterize a wound. Seal it shut. Close up my heart.
He blinked a couple times, shocked, searching for the words. I beat him to it. My anxiety was in control now, fed by my realization I’d misjudged all this. I was better off just being a single fuckboy, messing around and not catching any feelings that had the potential to turn around and gut me like a fish.
“You haven’t told Coach, you still have a wall up in front of other people, and more than all of that, you’ve admitted you didn’t feel that fated mate pull like I did. I can’t stop thinking about that. Wondering what would happen if we ended up together and five, ten years down the road we cross paths with someone who does give you that fated reaction? Then I’m just left standing there, holding the pieces of years’ worth of a relationship broken instantly.” I was getting riled up. The guys were beginning to gather around the whiteboard. Coach Julian was there with a blue marker in hand, ready to give us his pre-game talk.
Fuck. Maybe this wasn’t the best time to do this.
I could have punched myself. I let myself be controlled by pure nerves. I didn’t like that. But I couldn’t take back what I said, either. I meant it. They were real fears and concerns for me.
Miles swallowed. I could see him trying to compose his thoughts. I really had blindsided him with this. A stab of guilt hit me in the gut. I didn’t want to hurt him. That was the absolute last fucking thing I wanted to do. But in the rush to protect myself, I think I did exactly that…
Fuck, fuck, fuck.
“I’m sorry,” I continued, unable to stop this train from barreling off the tracks. “I think you deserve to find someone who gives you”—the same bubbly and paradise type of feeling you give me?—“the fated pull. I don’t want to hold you back from that. I also don’t want you to jeopardize your career or anything. So, I’m sorry. But I think we’re better off apart than together.”