Page 108 of The Longshot

I’d spent so many years thinking we were the perfect couple when, all along, we weren’t a match. We weren’t even a pairing.

When Simon touches me, it makes me feel nothing but pain and regret. He’ll always be a mistake, and I’ll always be the one he’ll never get back. That’s the truth, and the sooner he accepts it, the sooner we can both move on.

“I’m not having this conversation with you.” I push his touch off me, shaking my head as I do. “You need to leave,” I tell him explicitly. “Before I have someone make you.”

“Oh yeah?” He takes a confident step towards me, breaking the space. “Like who? Your boyfriend? Which if I’m not mistaken…” He looks around, arms wide. “Is nowhere to be seen.”

I furrow my brows—I refuse to let him break me down. I’m already panicked enough about Gary’s whereabouts, I don’t need Simon taunting me any further.

“Tell me, Chelsie. Where is he?” Simon attempts to run his hand through my hair, but I step back. “Where’s Wilks?”

I shudder. “I’m not talking to you about him.” I turn on my heel, attempting to make a bee-line into the venue, when he shouts.

“Maybe you will when you find out what I know…”

I halt in place—the absolute worst passing my mind. Simon wouldn’t have done something to him, would he? He couldn't have.

I’m compelled to turn around only because I’m unwilling to trust that Simon isn’t incapable of doing something irrational. To make matters worse, I’m left deeply unsettled when I see a smug look in his eyes.

“Thought you’d want to know what I know.”

“You know nothing,” I protest his statement. “Absolutely nothing about him.”

I know Simon’s games far too well by now. He’ll say or do anything to keep me engaged. Everything that comes out of his mouth is complete shit.

“Oh, but I do, Chelsie.” He dismisses me with a look of his eye. “Don’t you think people in the football world talk? You remember I have connections, right?”

I’m silenced, reminded of the simple fact that Simon used to play football. He used to be involved in the community. He knows a lot of people and Christ, how come I'm even allowing myself to hear him out right now?

“You see, darling.” Simon’s back to standing in front of me. “Wilks, well, he’s not who you think he is.”

I furrow my brow, refusing to believe that I don’t know the man I’ve spent this last month falling in…

I stop myself, not ready to jump in without even dipping my toes wet. It doesn’t matter what Simon says, I know Gary. I know him better than anyone else.

“I know who Wilks… Gary is,” I correct. “I don’t need you to tell me.”

“No?” Simon raises a single brow. “Well, tell me this. Did you know he’s been cheating on you?”

My world shuts off as he pulls up a photo on his phone and flashes it in my face, forcing me to stare.

The picture is visibly that of Gary, with his arms wrapped around the low waist of a girl as he dips her back and kisses her lips. Her face is hard to make out, given that it’s mainly covered by his, but the background is clear they’re out… they’re at a pub.

A pub.

“Wilks and I were drunk at Tenners together not long ago and what can I say? One thing led to another, and we took it back to his place.”

“Wilks, Gary, whatever you call him, Chelsie, well, he’s not loyal, darling. He’s a fucking cheater.”

I stumble—there’s no way this is happening. It can’t be. First the train, and now this? It just has to be a coincidence. It has to be, right?

“I know it’s a lot to take in, Chelsie. I do. I can only imagine that you thought this guy was different.”

Simon’s hardly able to sympathize with the sheer number of emotions I can feel pulsing through my veins.

I’m numb at the conclusion, so much so that I can hardly feel his hand as he brushes along my cheek. He knows what he’s doing, using every weak opportunity to get closer to me—touch me.

“When was this taken? Where did you get this? How do I know it’s not fake?” I’m too busy asking him a full-fledged assortment of questions to push him away.

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