Total pages in book: 136
Estimated words: 139259 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 696(@200wpm)___ 557(@250wpm)___ 464(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 139259 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 696(@200wpm)___ 557(@250wpm)___ 464(@300wpm)
But I swear he didn’t see us.
Yet here Mason is, acting like he’s got front-row seats to my unraveling.
If Mason tells Molly I’ve slipped up—even a little—she’ll lose it. She’ll panic. She’ll think this whole thing is blowing up in our faces, and then what?
She’ll end it.
She’ll shut me out faster than I can blink, and this thing between us—whatever it is—will be over.
The thought of it makes me feel like I’ve taken a slap shot to the chest.
I can’t let that happen.
I won’t let that happen.
I force out a laugh, trying to sell the lie better this time. “Mason, you’ve had one too many, man. You’re seeing things.”
Mason doesn’t buy it. He never does. He just smirks knowingly, leaning back in his chair like he’s got all the time in the world.
“You keep telling yourself that,” he says, drumming his fingers on the table.
I don’t respond and just take a long pull of my drink, trying not to let him see that he’s hit a nerve.
Because he has.
And if he knows, if he even suspects . . . I’m totally screwed.
“Fine.” A smug smirk graces Mason’s lips. The fucker just won’t let it go. “Then tell me what it’s like.”
“We barely tolerate each other.”
“You keep telling yourself that.”
I ignore him, lifting my drink to my mouth and closing my eyes for a brief second.
“Hmm . . .” Mason says in that asshole tone of his. “Then you won’t mind that some guy is hitting on her.”
My eyelids fly open. “What?”
“Oh, and it’s not just some guy. It’s Hayes from the Colts.”
My stomach twists as I take in the sight in front of me.
It’s just as Mason said.
Hayes, the center for the Colts, is talking to Molly, and worse, she’s eating that shit up. Her head is thrown back as she laughs at whatever he says.
I place my drink down with a thud.
Mason pats my chest, pushing me back a little. “Easy there, killer.”
“I’m fine.”
“Breathe.”
I might need to breathe because my knuckles are now white.
Mason’s voice cuts through my spiraling thoughts. “You’re not even listening, are you?”
I blink, tearing my gaze away from Molly. “What?”
Mason smirks. “You’re two seconds away from chucking that glass across the room. Let’s try this again . . . what’s going on with you and Molly?”
“Don’t be ridiculous. I wouldn’t waste good beer.”
“It’s watered-down shit, and we both know it.”
He does have a point.
I turn my attention back to Molly. Hayes leans in, and his hand brushes Molly’s arm. Even from here, I can see her stiffen.
“Calm down, Wilde.” Mason keeps his hand planted on my torso like he’s afraid I’ll launch myself over there if he lets go. “Molly is a grown girl. She can handle herself.”
“Where the hell is Dane?” My voice is sharper than I intended, and my eyes lock on Hayes like I could set him on fire just by staring.
“Again. Molly can take care of herself,” Mason repeats, but there’s a hint of caution in his tone now. He knows me well enough to hear the edge in my voice.
I grit my teeth, watching Hayes get even closer, leaning in like he owns the air she’s breathing. I can see Molly’s shoulders go rigid, her lips pulling into a tight, polite smile she barely holds in place.
It’s the look she wears when she’s enduring something she hates.
My fists curl so tight that my knuckles scream in protest.
Don’t do it. Don’t do it.
Mason’s hand presses firmer against me, probably feeling the tension rolling off me like a thundercloud.
“Hudson,” he warns under his breath.
He has a point.
Molly’s feisty as hell. She’d be pissed if I interfered. She’s handled worse, I’m sure. If she catches me storming over there, she’ll probably bite my head off before Hayes even gets the chance to process what’s happening.
Not to mention, the press will have a field day if they catch wind of this.
I exhale a shaky breath, willing myself to calm down, to let it go—
And then that bastard touches her waist.
My blood boils.
My vision goes red.
That’s it.
Mason’s hand is no longer enough to stop me.
I shrug him off and stalk across the bar, the pounding of my feet matching the rapid beat of my heart. Every muscle in my body is taut, coiled like a spring about to snap.
“Hudson,” Mason hisses from behind me, but his voice fades into the background.
It’s just Hayes and me now.
And he has no idea what’s about to hit him.
Mason sighs, giving up. “Well, shit. This is gonna be good.”
Once I’m done kicking Hayes’s ass, Mason is up next.
It doesn’t take me long to reach them, and by the time I get there, Molly is already trying to step away. The polite smile she’s throwing at the center is the fuck-off smile Molly reserves for people she thinks are assholes. Present company included most of the time.