Total pages in book: 66
Estimated words: 65683 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 328(@200wpm)___ 263(@250wpm)___ 219(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 65683 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 328(@200wpm)___ 263(@250wpm)___ 219(@300wpm)
Of course I chose that moment to tell her I loved her for the first time…
There were so many times I could have said it to her when it wouldn’t be in the memory of such a jaded and fucked-up night.
I did love her.
A lot.
In fact, I think she was the first woman I’d ever truly cared for. This was why her deceit hurt so bad. I couldn’t trust anyone just 'cause of who I was, and I hated that now she was added to the endless list of bullshit people.
Her eyes narrowed, almost as if she was thinking the same thing I was.
Before she could acknowledge what I actually confessed, she asked, “What the hell are you talking about?”
Did she purposely bypass the fact that what our parents are doing also set off a domino effect of my entire life falling apart? Not knowing who my real dad was? I felt like an orphan at that moment.
Betrayed.
Hurt.
And she wasn’t comforting me, nor was she admitting anything.
They said she knew.
“Tell me everything you know,” I whispered, voice shaking.
“All I know is that Sandra and your dad have been together for a while, like a long time, and that your mom and Sandra’s husband just look the other way.”
She stopped talking.
“That’s it? That’s all you know?”
She hesitated just briefly, then nodded. “That’s all I know.”
I couldn’t continue to look at her. Not when it was messing with my mind on whether she was lying to me or not.
Why would she lie?
Why would my father and her foster mother?
What the hell was happening?
I didn’t know which way was up, down, left, or right. Everything felt like it was going around in a slow but fast circle, with my impending doom suffocating me.
Before I said something I’d regret, I stated, “I’m going to go for a drive. I need to think. I need to…” I shook my head and walked off disappointed, making every step heavier than the last.
I loved her.
That much I did know.
CHAPTER 29
VAUGHN
Now
I’d never stopped at just one kiss—not when I really thought about it. I always kissed twice or got greedy and wanted more, so why was that one stolen kiss in the dark the only thing I could think about for the next twelve hours? Brady nearly gave me another concussion because I wasn’t paying attention during practice, and twice, I forgot my helmet.
What the hell sort of witchcraft happened last night?
Her lips were so soft.
Perfect, actually.
“Yo.” Brady ran up beside me and grabbed his water bottle. “Is it that time of the month or something? You look ready to cry.”
I smacked him on the back of the head. “That’s offensive.”
His jaw dropped. “Are you serious right now?”
I tossed my water bottle back onto the grass. “Some might say it’s an honor to be compared to a woman—I mean, could you give birth?”
He leaned in. “Bro, you can’t get high before practice. They’ll kick you off the team.”
I shoved him away. “I’m not high. I’m just in my feelings.”
“You need to get laid.”
That was true. “Whatever. I’m thinking a lot of thoughts.”
He snorted out, then sobered a bit. “Did you fix things with Tru?”
I couldn’t help the stupid-ass smile that spread across my face. “I kissed her.”
Brady slammed his hand down on my shoulder. “Wow. Did you hold hands before or after class? Ask her to skate night? Go to the movies and order only one soda and one popcorn? I bet your hands grazed each other too.”
“Eat shit.” I shoved him away. “I’m trying to make amends, turning over a new leaf and all that. Plus, what I did was the dickest of dickest moves. It doesn’t matter that I was wasted.”
“Yeah, I kind of wanted to kick your ass out of the house.”
“I would have deserved it.”
“But,” he continued, “you kind of own it, so that wouldn’t have worked.”
Coach blew his whistle. “Are you two done gossiping?”
“Never!” Brady announced while Coach just cursed under his breath. He was losing hair faster this season—I needed to look no further than Brady and my own reflection in the mirror.
“Vaughan!” Coach yelled.
“Sorry, Coach. Coming, Coach.”
The rest of the day went by so slow that it actually felt like I was going back in time. I evaded at least five texts from my dad, all telling me that we needed to talk and that I needed to decide what grad school to apply to, which made the last half of practice complete shit. I was dropping balls and in a shit mood, and Tru hadn’t so much as texted or at least said something to me.
Every time my phone went off in class and it was my dad and not her, I got more annoyed until I wanted to break it in half. Grad school. He could suck it. I was still mentioned on the news as being a possible draft pick. I knew it, he knew it, but this kind of shit messed with my confidence. I was still a free agent, but as long as my name was whispered around draft circles, I still had hope. I mean, Brady was what? Sixth draft pick?