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“You won’t.” Darryl’s eyes pierce mine. “If he fights me, he’ll get kicked off the team. That already happened once.”
His words catch me off guard, and I can’t help replying. “What do you mean?”
“Of course, his daddy cleaned up the problem. Tried to make it disappear. But that doesn’t change the fact that Sara nearly killed herself.”
I dig my teeth into my lower lip, wiping my sweaty palms on my jacket. “You’re lying.”
“And when he realizes you’re just another slut, he’ll dump your ass like he did her. You think he’s going to save you? Babe, the second you get in the way, you’re gone. And I’ll be waiting.”
“Fuck off,” I say, unable to keep the tremble out of my voice. I shove at him.
He goes this time, laughing. It takes a minute for my mind to stop spinning. By the time I think to check my phone, I see that my cab has come and left, so I need to call for another.
But when the panic quiets, I’m left with one thought: Who is Sara Wittman, and what happened when she dated James?
Chapter 26
Bex
When I get back to the inn, there’s a bottle of champagne on ice sitting on the table, plus two crystal flutes and a box of chocolates. There’s also a present wrapped in silver paper sitting in the middle of the fluffy white bedspread.
My heart skips a beat. He’s so sweet.
But I can’t get the conversation with Darryl out of my mind.
I shrug out of my jacket and peel off my jeans, sitting in his jersey on the edge of the bed. I pull out my phone to see that he texted that he’s on the way. I reply, then search the web for Sara Wittman.
Maybe Darryl is lying to me. He’s obviously jealous; he can’t let me go. He’d say anything to make James seem shitty in my eyes.
There isn’t much I can find. A private Instagram. A page from LSU featuring a picture of Athletic Director Peter Wittman and his family—a wife and a daughter, Sara.
So, she’s a real person. That I didn’t doubt. The question is, if James dated her, what happened? Did she try to hurt herself? Even if that’s true, how was James involved?
I didn’t search his name again after the first time, before our dinner at Vesuvio’s. He didn’t seem to like it, and I didn’t want to make him uncomfortable. That was back before I thought I had any real claim to him, anyway.
Wouldn’t he tell me if something that horrible had happened?
I thought he left LSU because he couldn’t win a championship with that program. He’d made it sound cut-and-dried. But Darryl talked about it like he left in disgrace. Threatened with getting kicked off the team? My heart twinges with sympathy. That would be devastating for him.
I’m typing his name into my phone when the door opens.
I exit out of the window and set my phone aside. He comes into the room with all the energy you’d expect after that kind of close win; he sweeps me up into a hug and kiss immediately.
“I missed you,” he murmurs. “Couldn’t think of anything the second the game ended except coming back here to you.”
I force myself to smile. Even though I’m dying for some real answers, I can’t do that to him now. Not after a win to keep their perfect season intact. Not while he’s looking at me like I’m the only person in the world and holding me like he wishes we could meld into one.
“It was an amazing game,” I say, instead of any of the questions echoing in my mind. “I was worried you wouldn’t pull it out.”
“Sanders saved it for us.” He rubs his hand down my back. “Did you talk to his mom?”
“She’s really sweet.”
“Definitely.”
“Did you order dinner yet?”
Shit. I’d forgotten about that. “Nope. I just got back a couple minutes ago.”
