Page 161 of Let You Love Me

“Do you, though? Because the one thing I needed, Lane, theonlything I asked for, was the one thing you couldn’t give me.”

I skirt around her to get to the locker room door while she follows my movements, slamming a hand over it as I grip the handle. “Don’t leave things like this. Please, Teagan. I love you.”

My knuckles whiten with my grip, her words sending shockwaves through my heart until the ripple effect is felt every-fucking-where.

My throat works, and I wonder if it’s my heart lodged in the back of it. I wonder if it’ll ever settle back inside my chest.

“I have a game to play,” I say.

Then I open the door and disappear.

Chapter 43

TEAGAN

We’re only ten minutesinto the game when Coach puts me in.

I have no idea what the hell he’s thinking, or maybe he’s not thinking and that’s the point. His eyes are glazed over, like he drank a fifth of whiskey. And he’d have to be drunk to put me on the field with Chance because being on a football field with him is the last place I want to be.

I want to rip his heart out with my bare hands. Break his ribs. Punch him in the nose. Gut him with a blade like he gutted me outside Coach’s office.

But I can do none of those things.

Instead, I’m supposed to run and block and evade and catch the football as if my world hadn’t been turned upside down just minutes ago.

Fuck. That.

I barely glance his way as he calls out the play. It’s a passing play in which I get the ball. Any other game, I’d be thrilled. Ilove an opportunity to score. Love the thrill of outsmarting my opponents and taking the ball home, but I feel nothing. No joy. No anticipation. Only a heaviness in my chest I can’t shake.

I crouch low at the line of scrimmage, my eyes fixed on Chance as I await the snap. He hikes the ball, and muscle memory takes over while my mind reels.

I explode off the line, my legs pumping as I run for the goal line, surging past defenders. My focus narrows and I turn in time to see Chance ready for the throw. But instead of putting my hands out and readying for the ball, all I can think about are his hands—the same ones clutching the football—touching Lane, pleasing Lane, holding Lane.

Time slows and I close my eyes as a fresh wave of pain rips through me.

How long were they together?

Would they still be a couple if she hadn’t gotten pregnant?

Did she love him?

Does she still?

And why? Why, why, why, a million times why?

Why did she lie to me?

Chance’s arm snaps back and the ball flies, but I’m too distracted.

My feet and arms are full of lead.

I’m late as I shift my stance and reach.

My vision files away the blur of maroon and white—a defender—coming straight for me.

I tell myself to pivot but I’m too late.

Something crashes into my side. My hip explodes and my legs fly out from under me. I’m airborne—weightless—floating like a feather through the air until the moment I hit the turf with bone-jarring force.

---