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“No problem at all,” she says. “I’ll make sure the guest room is ready to go.”
No way in hell is Lexie staying at my parents with me.
“Not necessary. A hotel will be fine.”
“Nonsense. If your therapist has to uproot their life to help you out, the least we can do is make him feel at home.”
When she assumes the therapist is a man, I don’t correct her. It’s just another piece of the puzzle I’m in no mood to discuss right now.
“We’ll be there tomorrow. Late morning.”
“Everything is going to be okay. I love you, Carter.”
“Love you, too, Mom.”
I hang up before my dad can get the phone and rip into me like I know he’s going to do. I’ve never been on the receiving end of it before, but I’ve seen Cody go through it on more than one occasion. Love. Tough love. The kind where he tells you that you’re an idiot, then does whatever is in his power to help you fix it—Mom and Dad both.
The much-deserved beer sits untouched in front of me, the remnants of the label scattered around it. My phone sits next to me, message after message still coming through, including one from Coach giving me Lexie’s address and phone number so we can make arrangements.
Fucking hell.
At the time, it never dawned on me to ask just how long this arrangement was going to last. Weeks? Months? How long exactly would I have to endure the torture? Torture in the way of long legs, perfect tits, and a goddamn mouth that feels like heaven. How long would my own personal hell last?
Asking now didn’t seem like the best of ideas, so rather than making things worse, I send him a message thanking him and assuring him that I will fix this.
His response? ‘You better.’
If only he knew how much easier this whole thing would be if he would give me any therapist but Lexie.
Picking up my phone, my finger hovers over Lexie’s name on the screen as Coach’s words that we need to make arrangements to get out of town settle over me. I need to reach out to her. I need to take control of the situation before my whole world collapses in on me.
Me: My place. 6 a.m.
She sees my message, and those three little dots hover there longer than they should.
Lexie: Ok
Whatever she’d wanted to say, she chose not to. Fine by me. As far as I’m concerned, there’s nothing left to say.
The past no longer exists, and the future isn’t a possibility. Never was.
Coach made his intentions clear to the entire team—hands off his daughter. A daughter who had never so much as even shown up for a game or a team meal in the time that I’ve been with the Knights. Staying away from her was supposed to be a piece of cake.
It would have been had I not already had a taste. Knowing what I know—how she tastes, the feel of her wrapped around my cock—there’s no forgetting that, no coming back from it. The woman made me feel in one night what I haven’t felt in months—happiness.
I jump in the shower, hoping it will help cleanse some of this shit off me, but it’s no use. Resting my hands against the shower wall, I hang my head as the water runs over me. Visuals of having Lexie in this exact position fill my head. It’s no use, I can’t outrun the woman, and after tomorrow, I sure as hell won’t be able to. As if it’s not bad enough that I have to deal with knowing she lied to me, I also have to spend every waking moment with her. My coach’s daughter.
Even if I could look past the lies, the deceit, the fucking mess she created, I can’t look past who she is. Lexie Masterson. The last name says it all—off limits, untouchable. Everything I want and nothing I can ever have again.
The hot shower turns cold but still does little to diminish the desire that’s built up in me thinking about Lexie—in the shower, in the tub, the bed, the couch, the fucking kitchen counter.
I am so fucked and not in the right kind of way.
Sleep. Sleep will free me of the thoughts running through my head. Only the shit running through it won’t allow me the reprieve. It just continues to rotate in there—the accident, Lexie, the tape. My head is spinning so damn fast, I’m starting to get dizzy.
At some point I fall asleep. I know this for one simple reason. Something just woke me up. Trying to ignore the sound, I roll over for what feels like the millionth time. I’ve barely slept, having spent the better part of the night tossing and turning, rehashing every which way my world has imploded.
The sound that woke me becomes more insistent. A knocking. Pounding.
