Page 56 of Against The Rules

Once I get in my car, I turn up the music and sing as loud as I can, drowning out all the thoughts scrambling through my brain.

CHAPTER 21

TYLER

I don’t know what to fucking say to her. Me. Not knowing what to say to keep a woman I like in my bed.

That’s a fucking first.

After I hear the front door close, I walk downstairs, a coward to the end, and watch her drive away.

Therapy. I mull it over, raking a hand through my hair, still tasting her on my goddamn lips and full of more regret than I’ve felt in a long time.

That’s the trouble with caring about someone. It comes with a whole set of other feelings that don’t always feel so good.

Fuck.

She’s right.

“You fucked her.”

“What the fuck?” I spin around, and Jacob’s looking at me with pity written all over his face. “That’s none of your goddamned business.”

“You have a lot of nerve talking about what’s my business when you introduce her to Mom and Dad as your new girlfriend, even though she’s your god damned Vegas wife, then tell me it’s strictly business for her, then fuck her loud enough I can hear you in the kitchen. Our kitchen.” He shakes his head. “Man, this is some messed up shit.”

My hands ball into fists at my side. “Don’t talk about her like that.”

“You’re making a mistake, as usual,” Jacob continues, surlier than normal. “Don’t make the same mistakes I did. Savannah seems like she’s way too good for you. One of you is going to get hurt.”

“Don’t fucking talk to me like that. You’re right, she’s completely out of my league. But I’m not you, Jacob, and she’s not Cameron. Just because you fucked up a great thing and have spent the last several years regretting the way you ruined it with her doesn’t mean I will.”

“Fuck you,” he grits out. “You’re an asshole.”

“Maybe I am, but I’m the one who gets to decide the way I live my life.” I gesture around to the house we share, the house we both spent our hard-earned money on. “And so far, despite what you and Mom and Dad think, I’m doing pretty damn well.”

His face changes, and he scrubs a hand across it before I can pinpoint what he’s thinking.

“I just don’t want to see her hurt you. Or you hurt her and regret it.” His voice is quiet, and I know, I just fucking know, that he is talking about him and Cameron. The one that got away, the one that’s caused him to never even look at another woman again.

I don’t care though. I’m too pissed at him, too fed up with everyone telling me who I am, with Savannah for being right about me, to feel sorry for him like I usually do.

Instead, I walk away.

And when I get back to my phone upstairs, I find the number for the team’s psychologist.

My finger hovers over the dial button because it’s Sunday, and should I really try to call him right now?

I glance back at the bed, where the comforter is all rumpled, a divot where Savannah’s warm body lay only minutes ago.

The phone rings, and a professional voice answers.

“Hi, Dr. Kim? This is Ty Matthews. I’d like to make an appointment.”

“If you’re calling me on the Sunday after a loss, I have a feeling you might want to talk now,” he says. “I have about thirty minutes free, why don’t you tell me about why you’ve decided to seek therapy?”

So I do.

CHAPTER 22

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