Page 69 of Body Check
“You will,” I insist. “We’ll be with your family tomorrow, and I’m pretty sure it’s a requirement to veg out on the couch and watch football. I’ll snuggle up next to you, and we can just take it easy.”
I feel the air in the room shift when Dutton looks up at me. “I don’t think dinner with my family is going to work out.”
“What do you mean?” I ask, completely certain I’m in a parallel universe right now.
He sighs deeply. “Look, I’m sorry. It’s got nothing to do with you. My mom was planning on having a big dinner, but she changed her mind and wants it to be low-key. You should head to Coach’s house with the crew. You’ll probably have more fun there anyway.”
“You don’t want me to meet your family?” I ask, disbelief coloring my words.
“It’s not that,” he assures me. “We’ll just do it another time.”
“What’s going on?” I ask, trying like hell to connect the pieces of this puzzle. And just that quickly, it all falls into place. “Oh, my god. I knew this was going to happen. I knew it. It’s the whole reason I wanted to keep thighs quiet at first. We were just getting to know each other, and I said that we shouldn’t go public until we knew it was going to last. And I was right, wasn’t I?”
“No,” he says, but that one weak little word does nothing to convince me.
“This is exactly what I was afraid of,” I said, my voice quavering. “But you told me you were all in. You convinced me. I almost ruined my relationship with Bran, and now, a few months in, you’re just calling it quits? What the hell is going on?”
“I’m not calling it quits,” he says, holding my gaze.
“But you don’t want me to meet your family?” I prod.
“Look, we should talk about this later. You’re upset, and I’ve got a paper to finish. We should?—”
“No,” I say, cutting off his words. “I don’t think we should talk about this later. I don’t think we have anything left to talk about.”
I turn and hustle down the stairs, ignoring Dutton when he calls after me.
I feel so stupid, and when I finally make it out of his house, there’s only one person I want to talk to, one person who will understand. I unlock my phone and type out a message to Bran.
Birdie: I hate it when you’re right.
32
Dutton
Iopen the door to the locker room and force myself through it, even though I don’t want to be here right now. Hell, I don’t really want to be anywhere right now. I feel like a shit human being because I was a total dick to Bridgette when she stopped by to check on me. I didn’t know what to say or do, so I just shut down. That’s my default setting, but it’s not what she deserved.
Dammit.
She left my house today thinking that what we have is over, that I’m done with her. That’s not true at all, but my head is such a mess right now that I’m beginning to think she’s better off without me.
I have to put all that aside now, though, because we’ve got workouts. Maybe this is the distraction I need right now. I stow my gear in my locker and head over to the treadmills where Blue is warming up. He gives me a chin tip and I return. Guys file in over the next few minutes, chattering like they always do, but I tune them out and focus on my body.
I’m just getting in the zone when I hear a crash. I look up to see the metal door slam against the wall. Mickey’s standing inthe doorway looking pissed. No, he doesn’t just look pissed—he looks pissed at me.
“What the fuck is wrong with you?” he barks, practically lunging for me. Dean and Ollie jump up just to hold him back.
“What are you talking about?” I ask, slowing down my machine and hopping off. Mickey’s itching for a fight, and I’m pissed enough to give him one.
“You know exactly what the fuck I’m talking about. You’re such a liar. My sister’s not good enough to meet your family, but she’s good enough to fuck?”
His words ignite something in me that’s dying to get out. “Don’t you fucking talk about her like that,” I say, grabbing a fistful of his t-shirt. “This has nothing to do with Bridgette.”
“Really?” he throws back. “Then why the hell was she crying?. Why does she think you’re trying to break up with her? Why are you changing your plans at the last minute? That’s fucked up. She was so excited to meet your parents and?—”
“It’s just not a good time,” I tell him. “I’m not breaking up with her, and I'm sure as hell not having this conversation with you.”
“At least we can agree on that,” he says. “Because I don’t want to talk to you. I want to break your fucking face.”
