Page 68 of Before I Loved You

The only thing I can do.

Because I love him, I can’t tell him.

And I need to continue the pretense that I want nothing to do with him.

At least until I figure out how to fix everything. How to put everything back together again as it should be.

But every time I rack my brain for an answer, I come up blank, losing myself to frustration beyond measure.

I feel helpless and alone, shackled in a battle against Greyson Black that I’ll never be able to win.

I’m not strong enough to beat him.

And I won’t risk playing against him only to lose.

The consequences are too dire.

So, for the sake of me, the baby, and Paul, I’ll do what I must to keep us all safe.

And as if the universe has a cruel sense of humor, my eyes catch on Greyson, sitting on the bench, scowling. To most, he probably appears immersed in the game, but upon further inspection, I notice his eyes glued to Paul, watching every move he makes. Anger radiates around him, his fingers gripping the edge of his seat in a death grip. The way he’s staring at Paul is as though he’s ready to murder him right there on the spot.

A shiver runs through me.

Greyson’s a deplorable asshole with no soul or conscience, but would he ever go that far?

What has him wound so tight that he appears ready to risk it all?

Could Greyson be jealous of Paul?

Would he let jealousy consume him?

Greyson’s words repeat in my mind: “Paul took something from me, so now I’m taking something from him.”

But what did Paul take from Greyson?

An overwhelming need to leave swarms me as each question rattles off, one right after the other.

Knowing Paul’s safe, surrounded by people with no way for Greyson to do any harm to him in the middle of a game, I fold the chair, lean it against the wall, and return down the stairs just as halftime begins.

Opening the door to the booth, I find the man sitting in front of a computer, typing away.

“You know, I never did get your name,” I say, walking up to him.

He smiles. “It’s William, but you can call me Will.”

I extend my hand toward him. “It’s nice to officially meet you, Will. Thank you for letting me up there tonight. I needed that.”

He shakes my hand. “Don’t mention it. Anything for Paul’s friend.”

sixteen

PAUL

Today kicked my ass, and that’s putting it lightly.

After losing our first game on the road, I got stuck sitting next to Greyson on the plane ride home, who was nothing but a dick, insisting he needed to use the armrest between us. At least I had the aisle seat and could stretch my oversized legs. And to top it off, I still haven’t heard from Sarah. Not once.

She completely ignored the text I sent her after our date, and it fucking sucks.

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