Page 242 of Playing the Pucking Game
I always have.
The problem here isn’t him.
It’s everyone else.
He knows as well as I do what the press can be like. The second they get a hold of this, all hell is going to break loose.
I’m not ready to be thrust into the spotlight with whatever spin they’ll put on this.
Linc’s hands frame my face.
“In case you didn’t get it already, you’re it for me, Parker. There has never been, and won’t ever be, another girl for me.” I quirk a brow. “They don’t count. They were a distraction. There’s only been one I’ve ever cared about. Only one I’ve ever wanted more from.”
“Are you sure that’s not just because I’m the only one who walked away?”
He shakes his head. “Have I ever told you how much that fucking hurt that day?”
I bite down on the inside of my lip, hating that my actions might have caused him pain.
I thought I was doing the right thing to protect myself. I was convinced that he’d go back to college and return to having a different bunny in his bed every night. Was I wrong?
If I’d allowed my heart to rule back then and not my head, would things have turned out differently?
“Everything happened for a reason,” he muses, as if he can read my thoughts.
“I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay. It might have hurt, but I understood why you did it. I also think it was the right thing to do. I wasn’t ready back then. I needed a few years to get all that shit out of my system.”
“What if I’m not ready now?” I ask, voicing one of my fears.
“One step at a time,” he reminds me.
My cell starts ringing again.
“Someone really wants to get a hold of my girl, huh? Should I be worried?”
I shake my head. “There hasn’t been anyone,” I confess.
His brows lift. “No one ever?”
“Well, maybe there was this one guy, but it was a long time ago, and I’m pretty sure it was a rebound thing.”
He chuckles. “It was never a rebound thing, and you know it.”
‘I know,” I mouth.
When my cell starts ringing for a third time, he lets out a breath and finally steps back. The second he does, my eyes drop to the wet patch on his sweats.
“Shit,” I gasp.
He follows my stare.
“Babe, look at what a mess you made.” When he looks back at me again, his eyes are molten.
“I’m sorry.” I cringe, my cheeks heating.
“Never, ever be sorry for that. And anyway, I guarantee the mess I’ve made inside is a hell of a lot worse.”
