Page 59 of Don't Puck His Best Friend
That’s the part that gets under my skin. I keep waiting for her to throw my own mess back in my face, to demand more, to force me to step up. Instead, she just... lets me go. Clean, simple, no drama.
Like I don’t matter enough to fight for.
Maybe she’s not the one.
It should be relief. Should make this easier. But even as I think it, I know it’s bullshit. I’m too far gone to pretend this is just another hookup I can walk away from.
The rest of the day, Harper’s in my head. Every drill, every rep, every moment my mind isn’t completely occupied—she’s there. Her laugh, the way she looked at me in that elevator, how she felt in my arms like she belonged there.
And with her comes that ugly voice that knows exactly what I am: the guy who sleeps around, who never sticks, who no one brings home to meet their parents.
I think about my old man—emotionally absent unless he was pissed off, then too damn present in all the wrong ways. Mom’s brittle, polite smiles at family dinners that always ended with slammed doors and him storming out to God knows where. I swore I’d never be like him, but here I am, emotionally unavailable and breaking things I actually want to keep.
By the time the team dinner rolls around, I feel like a complete piece of shit wearing a suit jacket. I tell myself I’m here for the team, not to drown in self-pity over a girl who was smart enough to walk away before I could hurt her worse.
But walking into the restaurant, all I can think about is Harper’s text and how I still haven’t replied because I can’t face her. Can’t take responsibility for being exactly who she thinks I am.
The guys are already at the bar when I arrive, and Cade—the new transfer student who joined the team this semester—tosses me a beer with a grin.
“Thought you weren’t coming,” he says.
“Almost didn’t.” I take a long pull of beer, hoping it’ll wash away the taste of my own disappointment.
“Yeah, well… welcome to the club. Coach would’ve been pissed.”
I force a laugh. “Yeah, man.”
Cade’s smart as hell, but he has the sense of humor of a high school jock and a shit ton of drama that I don’t want a part of. But I’ve watched him prove himself in this team, and I respect the hustle.
Sanderson walks in with Hannah, and Cade just ignores them as they sit across the room.
He takes a sip of his beer and mutters, “Don’t be stupid like me.”
I swig my beer, looking at Sanderson and Hannah when the front door opens. Sirus walks in with a brunette and then there’s Cole.
Then my stomach sinks. It twists, burns like fucking acid when I see the girl of my dreams smiling at something Cole just said. He holds her hand, and I still.
“What?” Cade says, but I tune him out.
I hear my own pulse in my ears, the rage burning through my veins.
Is that what she meant when she said she wanted someone steady? She’s been playing me this entire time?
My breath falters. My entire body tenses.
Cole places his hand on her lower back, guiding her into the restaurant like she belongs there. Like she’s his to guide. He whispers something in her ear, and she smiles. My brain short circuits, remembering every reason I nicknamed her Trouble. How she smells, how she tastes when she moans against my mouth, the exact sound she made the first time I kissed her in that elevator.
And now she’s looking at Cole like that? Like he’s something worth keeping?
I force myself to hold my drink steady, jaw locked, watching them make their way toward our table. Cole introduces her to the guys she hasn’t met, his hand never leaving her back, and she smiles at each of them like she actually wants to be here.
Every laugh she gives him feels like a nail being driven into my chest.
I tell myself it’s fine. I’m fine. This was bound to happen eventually—Harper finding someone who deserves her, someone who won’t disappoint her the way I inevitably would.
But I’m not fine. I’m the opposite of fine.
“You know Harper?” Sirus asks, sliding up beside me with a grin.
