Page 74 of Wicked Player

“Yeah. But you don’t look good. Need me to take you home?”

“No. But thank you.” He was young and sweet. We also lived on opposite sides of the city.

“Okay. Text me tomorrow and I’ll meet you at work whenever.”

I did a quick mental scroll of my day tomorrow and my heart dropped to my feet. Tuesday. The Rough Riders’ day off and they were all coming to visit the kids again. It wasn’t necessary but gave me an excuse to check on Brandon.

Damn it.

“Early,” I told Jason. “And I know that sucks, but I have to get to the hospital at ten. Can we meet at seven?”

“You’re killing me. But yeah. I can swing it.”

“Thanks.” I squeezed his biceps and ducked my head and got the hell out of there.

Hurrying to my car, I kept my head down, keys out and ready.

I hadn’t seen Gage come back in and another confrontation wasn’t on my to-do list.

Tears were already forming as I replayed it in my mind. Good God. What was it with me having completely horrible judgment when it came to guys? It’d been a day! One day when we even knew who were fucking face to face and I get handed that bullshit?

No freaking way.

I tossed my bowling bag into the back of my Explorer and settled in my chair. Turned the keys. Started the engine and right as the lights lit up, shining right at that alley, I saw him.

Gage. Ankles crossed. Arms cross. Shoulder against the wall. And his eyes? I didn’t have to see them to know he was focused on me.

Well, I hope you feel like shit, asshole, because you just screwed over a really good thing.

I pulled out of the parking lot and didn’t look back, despite how much it killed.

And when I got home? The Oreos and red wine I opened tasted like heartbreak and misery.

Twenty-Five

Gage

With you on my couch, and in my bed, I had all I needed from you because I thought I had you.

We’ve been straight with each other for less than a fucking day, Gage. One day. I don’t owe you shit.

She was right. All of it. Every pain-filled word she hurdled back at me made me feel shittier by the minute.

It wasn’t right. It was wrong before I said anything. Somehow, I’d known it. That quiet voice telling me to calm the hell down. And I might have been able to withstand had she not mentioned pictures.

The little fuckwad had photos of us? It was the exact fear that had kept me from getting close to women at Velvet.

And I hadn’t known she was up for a promotion at work.

Why?One day.We’d had one conversation about family before. We hadn’t had thetimeto talk. But it felt like I’d known her my whole life. It felt like we’d known each other for weeks or months, knew each other inside out. That was how strong our connection was.

Or had been before you skewered it with your asshole bullshit.

But damn it.

“She was right. And you’re a piece of shit.” I splashed cold water on my face. My sleep had been crap and I gave up hours before I needed to wake up.

I’d make it better. I had to. Already she was more important to me than anyone I’d ever met outside my parents.

---