Page 120 of Resisting the Running Back

I guess I just thought I’d have a stronger base with Sophie going into the season considering the foundation of friendship we were building upon, but that doesn’t seem to be the case. Instead, it’s missed calls and misunderstood texts and a general lonely feeling.

She has a book releasing in a few days and that event at the bookstore in Vegas after that. I should be there supporting her. I’ll call her on release day and check in with her, but will it just be another series of missed calls?

I try calling her once more before I climb into bed. Tanner is in the shower, and he still hasn’t clarified his statement from earlier.

She doesn’t answer.

I decide to leave her a voicemail message.

“Hey. I’m sorry we keep missing each other. What you heard earlier—it wasn’t how it sounded. It was media day, and they let fans into the stadium. That’s all it was. I feel like we need to talk. Call me, okay?”

I hang up and realize too late that I didn’t tell her I love her. I miss her. I need her.

Maybe I didn’t say those things subconsciously on purpose. Maybe I don’t want to continue down a road that’s leading straight to nowhere.

But despite leaving that message, my phone doesn’t ring.

CHAPTER 54: Sophie Summers

I Have to Tell Him

I can’t bring myself to listen to his message. I’m too scared, to be honest.

I’m sure he’ll offer some explanation as to who was screaming his name andwoo-ing in the background, but I don’t really care to hear that explanation right now.

He made it sound like training camp is two weeks of hell, and the first chance I get to hear his voice, he sounds like he’s at some goddamn party, most likely with half-naked women screaming his name.

I hate this for us, but I think the pregnancy hormones are sending me these different emotions that I’ve never felt before. It’s one part rage combined with one part fear.

And then there’s the exhaustion. It didn’t seem to hit me until I saw that word on that stick, and now I just want to lie in bed and never get out of it.

I can’t bring myself to write. I can’t bring myself to do any of the tasks on my list.

My book releases in two days now, and I have so much to do. I have another book to finish writing. I have one chapter left plus the epilogue, and I’m not sure how I’m supposed to gushabout their happy ending when I feel like mine was just within reach before it was ripped away.

I’m living in his house, sleeping in his bed, showering in his shower, and I have no idea where we stand right now.

Maybe I’d have a better idea if I picked up the damn phone, but a piece of me is too scared.

A piece of me thinks that message he left is letting me down gently.

The very thought of a life without Miller makes my stomach turn over, but it’s right there at the surface, pulsing in a very irritating way every time I think I’ve pushed it out.

He tries calling me in the morning. I don’t answer.

I turn on my computer. I’m behind on my deadline. I told my editor I’d have this book to her yesterday, but I can’t write when I’m thinking about the strange place where Miller and I have landed. I’m really, really scared that this is going to spell the end for us.

So where does that leave me and the baby?

I have to tell him, obviously. I just feel like I need to do it in a way that will give him the option to walk away if this isn’t the life he wants.

Babies are a big commitment, but the more I’ve sat with this over the last twenty-four hours, the more I know that this is what I want. I can do this. And if I have to do it alone, well…so be it. I will.

I will be everything this baby needs if it’s up to me to be the sole provider. I will raise him or her knowing that she or he was created out of love.

I hope Miller will be there by my side for all the highs and all the lows.

But if he’s not, I’m going to be okay.

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