Total pages in book: 43
Estimated words: 40046 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 200(@200wpm)___ 160(@250wpm)___ 133(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 40046 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 200(@200wpm)___ 160(@250wpm)___ 133(@300wpm)
"Jesus Christ," Coach mutters.
"I should have put an end to that weeks ago," I mutter. "I'll own that. I thought I was doing right by her by giving her the choice, but I was fucking it all up the entire time. She needed me to step up, and I failed her." I hold his gaze, not mincing words. If he wants to boot me from the team, I can't stop him. But at least I'll go having defended her the way she deserves. The way I should have weeks ago. "But you failed her too. She doesn't need you giving her something to fear. She doesn't need you making choices for her. She needs you to trust her enough to make choices for herself. You raised her to be that woman, Lariat. And believe me, the woman you raised is fucking incredible."
"And you think you're a good choice for her, Whatley?" he asks. "You're on the road half the season. Is that really the life you want for her? For your kids? Leaving them behind?"
"It's the life she wants," I say quietly. "I don't know if that'll change when we have kids. But I know the choice should be hers because it's her life."
"And if it changes? If she decides that having you gone all the time is too much for her? What then?" he asks. "You break her heart when you decide that you're not willing to give it up for her and your kids?"
"No," I say quietly, not really surprised that's what he thinks of me. It's the choice most players make. It's why so many goddamn marriages end in divorce in professional sports. This life isn't easy, especially when kids are involved. But I'm a whole helluva lot more like him than I've ever been like them. I've been in his shoes once. I raised a sister while playing this sport. I know what it mean to put someone else ahead of this game because their needs came first. And if he thinks I wouldn't make the same choice for Emilia and our kids that I'd have made for Aspen in a heartbeat, he doesn't know a goddamn thing about me. Putting Emilia first isn't even a question. She's my world.
"If she ever changes her mind and decides this life is too much, I walk away, and I don't regret a single goddamn second of it."
Surprise flares in his hazel eyes, as if he didn't expect that answer.
I grab my bag, sliding out into the aisle. "You should be able to understand just how easy that decision will be to make if it ever comes down to it. You made the same choice for her once."
"Jesus," he mutters as I squeeze past him, striding down the aisle.
"Is it just me, or is everyone in this motherfucker staring at us?" Diego asks, his brows furrowed as he glances around the restaurant down from the hotel where we're having dinner.
I don't bother looking up to confirm, instead, staring at my phone the same damn way I have been all day. I've been calling Emilia since the plane landed this afternoon, but she isn't answering. She isn't reading my texts or responding to them, either.
I'm worried as fuck.
"It's not just you," Logan mutters from beside me. "They're all staring."
I glance up in time to see everyone at the table looking at me, as if waiting for an explanation as to why we're suddenly more popular in San Jose than we are back home. I don't particularly feel like giving them the details, though. They're all going to be pissed about it.
"Fuck," I mutter, shoving my phone in my pocket. "Montaque found out about me and Emilia. He ambushed us and Coach this morning."
"Damn," Joaquin whistles. "And you're still standing?"
I shoot him a dirty glare.
"I'm just saying… that's his daughter, man," Joaquin says, shrugging. "Figured he'd rip your balls off once he found out what the two of you have been doing."
"It's not even like that," I growl. "I'm marrying that girl."
"The writing has been on the wall on that since day one, motherfucker." Logan rolls his eyes as half the guys at the table nod their agreement. "Fuck Montaque though, straight up. What'd he print about you two?"
"Don't know. Haven't looked."
"Jesus Christ," Jordan mutters, dragging his phone out of his pocket. "You're in enemy territory, Whatley. You need to be prepared for whatever bullshit they're going to throw at you tomorrow. I can guarantee it'll be something about her meant to piss you off."
"I fucking hate coming here," Micah agrees. "It's always some bullshit."
"Blame Jordan," Diego says, and then shrugs when Jordan throws a dirty scowl at him. "I didn't mean it that way. I just mean, they hate us because you're on our team. Peters is their captain. It probably drives them up the fucking wall that people still remember their precious Captain getting the shit kicked out of him on national television by one of his own teammates."