Page 54 of The Break Down

Finley wasn’t there.

Carolina had no idea where she’d gone.

Just shrugged and said, “She needed space.”

Space?

She already hasmy space.

She has my fucking heart wrapped around that sharp tongue of hers, and now she wants space?

I know it’s fast. Soon for me to feel this way. But when I know what I want, I get it.

Like when I walk into a restaurant, if I can’t decide in two minutes, I’m out. Same for shopping.

It doesn’t take me long to decide. And when I do decide, I stick with it.

And I am sticking with her.

Even though she’s trying to deny us.

I glimpsed her the next morning outside the media tent, phone in one hand, camera in the other, her hair up in that messy bun that drives me insane.

She saw me.

And she ran.

Again.

Mumbled something about work and disappeared.

I let it go.

Barely.

Only because I had two-a-day practices, and Coach Dane breathing down my neck.

Besides, he assured me she was still sleeping in the RV at night.

Not with me, but still.

Close enough that I could pretend. Just a little.

But the final day in NOLA has been nothing but press conferences, photoshoots, sponsor meetings—and Finley.

Always nearby. Always moving. Always avoiding.

It’s driving me mad.

Every time I try to get close, she throws up another wall.

Sometimes literally.

A door.

A camera.

A laptop slammed shut in my face.

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