Page 111 of Stand Your Ground
And then there was the third payment. It had hit her account this morning — just like we’d outlined in the paperwork we’d both signed. Except this time, it felt dirty.
Was I supposed to stop sending it now?
Would she have my balls in a chain if I dared?
I wanted her to have the money, to use it for whatever she needed, but God, I hated how it felt now. I didn’t want her to think anything between us was transactional, that this was just some sort of business deal to me. It may have started that way, but it hadn’t been like that for a while now.
Then again, this was what she’d agreed to. We hadn’t technically said it was all over, but it was certainly implied. Therefore, she’d fulfilled her side of the agreement, and I was to fulfill mine.
She didn’t seem upset about that third payment hitting. Then again, she hadn’t said anything about itat all. And while it was perfectly acceptable that a grown woman with a demanding career would ask for a few days before she sees me, I couldn’t help but wonder if a part of that delay in getting together was because of the payment and her sorting through her own feelings about it.
Jesus, Carter. You’re a fucking lunatic.
Just shut your brain off and give the girl a few days.
I pedaled faster, sweat dripping from my hair and down my temples, and for a moment, I cleared my mind. It was all I coulddo to focus on my breathing, on the pumping of my legs, the oxygen burning my lungs.
But sixty seconds was about all I got before my asshole brain was at it again.
Because what were we now, anyway?
Was Livia my… girlfriend? Did I get to call her that? Or was that something only she was allowed to decide?
Fuck, did she even want that?
She called me Rookie like she had since we signed the contract, her little term of degrading endearment for me. Again, it was nothing I should read into, but I couldn’t fucking help it — because I didn’t want to be Rookie to her now. I wanted to be Carter, her boyfriend.
Do you seriously think a woman like that would let you claim her publicly?
You’re a fucking joke. She’s embarrassed of you.
She’s trying to think of a way to get out of all of this.
I hated thinking it, but my brain wouldn’t stop. The words came in Coach Leduc’s voice, and I visually imagined socking him in the jaw to shut him up, but those thoughts still echoed.
Could I tell people about us?
Did she want me to?
Or were the worst thoughts in my head right?Wouldthat embarrass her? Was I just another secret she had to compartmentalize, something she’d never claim out loud?
I swiped sweat from my brow with the towel hanging around my neck, shaking my head at the thought.
I knew it wasn’t true. At least, I wanted to believe that part of my heart that swore it wasn’t. I saw the look on her face when I told her I wanted more. I felt the way she trembled against me when she told me she felt the same.
Still, she deserved more than stolen moments in the shadows. She deserved something real. A date. No, a gesture.
Something deliberate.
Instead, what I had was a brain that wouldn’t shut the hell up.
What if she woke up one day and realized I wasn’t enough?
What if she wanted someone older, steadier, someone who had his shit together instead of a man who still needed her guidance to please her?
What if she regretted saying she loved me back?
Technically, she didn’t ever really say it, did she?
