Page 67 of Puck Me Secretly

The plane screamed down the runway and my hands clenched around the armrests. Beneath the blanket, Max peeled my hand off the cold metal and squeezed it in his big, warm hand.

“Thank you,” I breathed, keeping my eyes on my lap.

“So, have you been avoiding me?” his voice was low.

“No.” I glanced at him and saw a true question in his gaze. “Yes. Maybe.”

“Why?”

“Because you told me to.”

Blue eyes clashed with mine, but we didn’t speak.

I wanted to ask him how he was doing after tonight. Tonight, his old team, men who used to be close friends, had done everything in their power to hurt him. Fans who used to adore him showed their hate. If that was me, I’d feel crushed.

I fell into a fitful sleep, and when I woke up, my hand was still in his.

CHAPTER 24

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Cleaning up the disaster in the wake of Rory is a full-time job. Not only can she not do her job, but she makes everything a hundred times harder for everyone around her. #MinnesotaFight

CHAPTER 25

It was almostthe middle of the night when we got to our hotel in Detroit. I took a shower as soon as I got to my room, but despite feeling overwhelmed, I refused to let myself cry. I felt violated, vulnerable and alone.

I will not cry.

Ashfords do not cry.

I pulled a tank top and a pair of thin pajama bottoms on and studied my reflection in the mirror. A faint bruise was beginning to show on my cheekbone. My appearance was as sad as I felt. Baxter was right. I didn’t belong here. This job was so beyond my skill set, it wasn’t even funny.

A slow knock sounded on the door.

“Who is it?”

“Max.”

I swung the door open. He wore a pair of jeans and a blue t-shirt. He stood there, taking in my night attire. I crossed my arms over my chest, feeling both vulnerable and exposed beneath his intense observation.

“Can I come in?”

I held the door open wide and watched as he walked into the room. I shut the door after him, wondering why he was here.

He stood there, studying me. “I wanted to check up on you.”

“I’m okay.”

He stepped closer and tilted my chin up, so he could study my cheek. I struggled to hold onto my emotions in the face of his concern. Light fingertips grazed around the bruise.

My bottom lip trembled.

I shook my head, unable to meet his eyes. “Don’t, Max.”

“Come here,” he pulled me against his chest. I felt his big arms wrap around me, making me feel safe and protected. And then I burst into noisy tears.

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