Page 33 of A Game Plan for Love

A text bubble pops up, then disappears, nearly a dozen times. It vanishes one last time, and I slide my phone back into my pocket. Heavy-heartedness and long-held anger wash over me, and when Ben appears, I’m numb.

I should never have responded to her message. All I did was hurt myself. Because, as angry as I am, they’re still my parents, and I wish life were different.

The meeting is brutally long—updates about food orders, invoices, and travel preparation—but I make it through with a fake smile and numerous head nods. When we end the meeting, I flee the office to hide in the walk-in cooler and decompress.

I’m scurrying down the hall when Declan exits the locker room.

Fuck, I’ve been avoiding him.

Our date last week was the most fun I’ve had in a long time, and I know Nora feels the same. She hasn’t stopped speaking about him, and it terrifies the shit out of me. One date, and he has both Nora and me under his spell.

Not to mention, he followed up on getting my list of fan fiction stories, and it seemed like he was actually going to read them.

How is anyone supposed to act normal after that?

My pulse skyrockets when he spots me, but his smile falls, and his eyebrows crinkle. He reaches me in three solid steps.

“What’s wrong?”

God, is it that obvious?

Before I can respond, he gently wraps his hand around my bicep and pulls me into an equipment closet. My back hits a wall, and he cages me in, palms splayed against the wall next to my head.

The light is switched off, but it’s not dark enough to hide the concern in his eyes—the usual bright blue now stormy like thunderclouds. He leans in close, the air crackling with energy, until his lips are hovering inches away.

Do not look down, Adeline. Be strong.

I am weak.

My eyes drop to his lips.

“Why are you upset?” he whispers. His voice is a deep timbre, rattling the confession right out of me.

“My mom texted me.”

“Oh?”

The single syllable is neutral, yet pressing—demanding an explanation or a shutdown.

“I don’t have a great relationship with my parents,” I admit, and something about the confession cracks the dam holding back all the pent-up emotions regarding them.

A single tear slips out, and I’m horrified as it trails down my cheek.

We went ononedate and now I’m crying about my fucked up family relationships to him in a supply closet. How’s this for rock bottom?

His free hand reaches out, and tenderly, he wipes away the tear with the pad of his thumb. The tender action only worsens the tears, and now they flood freely. When’s the last time I cried? Just let it all out?

An ugly choked sound escapes as it all bubbles to the surface.

Shame. Disappointment. Anger. Resentment. Foolish hope. Despair.

Thick, strong arms wrap around my shoulders, and Declan drags me against his chest while I sob.

“I’m sorry,” I whisper against his chest.

His palm casts soothing circles on my back.

“Sharon says it’s unhealthy to bottle up your emotions.”

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