Page 79 of Endgame

33

DAKOTA

Holy cheese balls.I’m fighting to contain the thrill of what just happened. Not only did I get up close and personal with the cock of my legitimate dreams, but I completed my first round of photos forSports Illustrated.

Sports. Freaking. Illustrated. Somebody pinch me.

God, if my parents were here to see this, I know they’d be so proud. Tears fill my eyes. The SI team is currently reviewing the photos to make sure we got enough shots of each player to use, while the guys head back to the changing tents to dress and wait for the boating captain to return with a new set of players. Taking advantage of my little break, I make my way over to my backpack set aside on the production chair. Feeling the depths of my hunger consume me, I grab a mini pack of golden vanilla Oreos and quickly stuff my face.

I’m not sure what came over Callaway in the water. Usually, I’d find that side of his possessiveness attractive; however, it pissed me off that he felt the need to call me out on something incredibly inappropriate in front of Blair.

He had no right. Especially, seeing as how I managed tokeep my mouth shut at the sight of him more exposed than I was.

I expected him to say something about Devin’s flirting, but he never brought it up.

He doesn’t know I talked to Navy. I’m not hesitant about moving forward with him anymore, but I want to make sure I pick the best time to tell him.

The sight of Devin at my side takes my focus from my pondering. I peer up at him in question. He looks like he wants to ask me something.

Please don’t ask me out. I don’t want to have to say no.

“You did amazing out there, Dakota.” What a nice guy. Why can’t he be a jerk?

“Thanks, Devin. And thank you for all your help.”

I’m being formal, hoping he picks up on the friendzone I’m placing him in. There’s no room for anyone else in my heart. It’s already taken.

The owner doesn’t know it yet.

His steps move closer as I busy myself with my things.Here it comes.

“So, listen, I was thinking —”

“Angel.” All eyes fall on the man calling out my name.

He must be at least twenty feet away, but I hear him so clearly.

My attention leaves my things as I look up to see Callaway fully dressed and seated outside the changing tent; his arms are braced against his knees, chin down, eyes up, and he gazes at me with what looks like immense pain.

Sorrow.

Hurt.

My sweet man. Pain is the last thing I ever want him to feel. If only he knew my heart has only ever beat deeply forhim. Devin could never stand a chance. He’s always been respectful and protective of my worth.

He needs to know.

Without thinking twice, my feet lead me to stand directly in front of Callaway without so much as asee you laterto Devin. His blue eyes have yet to stray from mine. I’ve never seen him look so beaten down and broken.

“Cal.” I never call him Cal. He’s always been Callaway to me. I hope he can hear the concern laced in my voice.

My right hand lifts slightly to rest on his shoulder; I rub my thumb back and forth gently. His eyes raise to meet mine, and I swear I can feel the love in them. At this moment, a secure sense of intimacy comes between us, an unspoken connection letting us know we’re on the same wavelength.

His voice drags out in sharp blows of misery, “I can’t handle it.”

I draw in a sharp breath, lost in the meaning of his words while struggling to find my voice.

“I can’t handle his eyes on you, Dakota. I want to break every bone in his goddamn body.”

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