The Hot Shot (Game On #4)

The anger in her eyes mutes to something softer.

I touch the curve of her jaw, my thumb brushing her lower lip. “We are not best friends, Chess. We are more. You are my everything. The reason I get up each day.”

She melts toward me. “Finn…”

My hand slides to the nape of her neck, and I hold her steady. “So don’t come at me with this, ‘we’re best friends’ bullshit when you want to use it to drive me away.”

She freezes, her chin firming in stubborn resistance. Did she think I was blind?

“You are not doing whatever this is under the guise of friendship.”

Her head jerks back, trying to get free. I don’t let her. My hold is gentle but firm.

Her glare is fierce. “Let me go, Finn.”

I can’t. It’ll break my heart.

“Talk to me,” I rasp.

Her cold hand wraps around my wrist. “I heard everything he said.”

Guilt has me flinching. “Look, North is…”

“He’s right.” Her voice is soft but emphatic. And it is a kick to the gut.

“He believes he’s right.”

Chess frowns. “Do you know how many times I’ve heard James bitch that one of his favorite athletes is starting to suck because he’s lost his focus in a relationship?”

“Are you saying I suck now?” My head pounds, a dull thudding at my temples.

“I’m saying that, aside from that kind of gross and misogynistic bit about players’ wives in the middle, North was making a lot of sense. And you know it.”

The pounding in my head gets worse. Something bitter burns its way up my throat. “I can’t fight you too, Chess. I need you on my side here.”

“I am on your side.” She moves to touch my cheek but stops short. “I just think that if we take a step back—”

“Fucking hell. Just stop with your damn logic and listen to me!” I throw the bottle against the wall and it shatters. Chess flinches as I round on her. “I’m hanging on by a thread. A fucking thread. And you’re either trying to end us with talk of babies that we may or may not want, or you’re being some sort of goddamn sacrificial lamb on the altar of football! Do you want me to choose football over you? Is that it?”

She blinks back at me with glossy eyes. “No. You shouldn’t have to choose.”

“Then don’t make it a choice.”

“Do you think it was easy to hear all that?” she snaps. “While knowing that, by having me in your life, I make it that much harder for you to succeed?”

“Your faith in my ability is heartening, Chess. Truly fucking inspiring.”

“Goddamnit, Finn, this isn’t about my faith in you, it’s my lack of faith in me. I am a bad bet!”

“And yet I’d put all my money on you,” I shout. “I’d do it in a second. But you won’t do the same for me.”

She flinches but that stubborn chin of hers remains firm. Like she’s already committed to her plan. “Finn—”

“No.” I back away, holding up my hands to ward her off. “You know what? I want you to go. Take that job in New York, stay there and find yourself. Because North is right. It’s too hard as it is. Going into this with doubts will just set us up to fail.”

She just stares at me as if she’s been frozen, and I wait for the denial, for her to tell me I’m wrong. Slowly, she starts to breath, her chest lifting and falling with the effort. Her rage gathers, and it is a beautiful thing to watch. Her glare is like justice and judgment all rolled into one, and it is directed at me.

“All right, I’ll go. But let me tell you this.” Her voice rises, growing harder. “My parents always followed their hearts. They never stopped to think or work out the consequences of their actions. Not once. It was always instinct and emotion over logic and planning. Well, guess what? I got left behind.” Her small fist punches her chest with a hollow sound. “I suffered. Not once did they consider the effects their actions would have on me.”

She blinks rapidly and her voice changes again, cracking. “I’m sorry if I worry. If I weigh pros and cons and ignore my heart sometimes. But I can’t be like them. I can’t be like you. I won’t. When I chose forever, I want it to be forever. I need that.”

I’ve made a grave mistake. I’ve pushed her too far when I should have yielded. “Chess…”

“No.” Her hand slashes through the air. “We’ve said enough. My head hurts and don’t want to fight.”

“I don’t want to fight either,” I whisper. Her head hurts, after all. “It’s bullshit, all this worrying.”

She visibly flinches. “I’ve lost everything that is safe and familiar to me. My home, my place of work, my best friend. And I’ve replaced it with you. You ask me to have faith in us while you protect yourself. All I want is one simple thing.”

The stale air of the room presses in on me. “You want me to predict the distant future. I can’t do that. I can barely focus on tomorrow.” What if North and Chess are right? What if I can’t divide my attentions and succeed?

It’s a testament to how well she knows me because it’s clear she sees my fear. “You can’t give it to me because you’re thinking now about what he said, aren’t you? And the answer isn’t what either of us wants to hear.”

My heart pounds to hard now, my whole body throbs with the rapid beat. Sweat breaks out on my skin. “I’m sorry, Chess. Just…” I swallow past the panic. “Give me a little time…”

Her gown rustles as she moves past me, not looking me in the eye. “I’m going to New York.” She pauses at the threshold of the doorway. “And while I think about taking a leap of faith and following my heart, maybe you think about how you’re going to make your life work. With or without me.”

I let her go on ahead to give her some space. It’s a mistake. By the time I return to the party, she’s left it when Meghan. And by the time I get back home, she’s gone.





Chapter Twenty-Two





Chess



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