Page 43 of Pucking Dirty

"What did he do?" she growls.

"He didn't do anything. I did." I sigh, my bottom lip quivering. "Charles Montaque ambushed us this morning, and my dad found out about us. I screwed everything up."

"That son of a bitch! You need help killing the story?"

"No. I, um, need help changing the narrative." I quickly explain what I want and then pause. "Can you do it?"

"Yeah," she says quietly. "I can do it. But are you sure, Em? Once you put it out there, you can't take it back."

"That's the plan," I whisper. Nash and the way I feel about him isn't something I want to take back. Not now, not ever. That's what I should have said this morning. That's what he deserved to hear. He deserves to hear it now. Even if it's too late and I've broken it beyond repair, he still deserves to know that he isn't a secret. He isn't something I'm ashamed of. And he doesn't deserve to be hidden away.

It'll kill me if he never wants to see me again. But so long as he knows that he never deserved to feel like a dirty little secret, I'll live with the pain if that's my fate. I'll never get over him. I'll never move on. He'll have every single piece of my heart forever. But the whole world should know that Nash Whatley isn't a scandal. He's the most incredible man I've ever known. And he should know that, too. He always should have known that.

"I'll make it happen," she promises. "I'm assuming you need it done sooner rather than later?"

"As soon as you can make it happen. I plan to be on the first flight out."

"Good for you," she says. "Go get your man, girl."

"I am." I clear my throat, my heart in a vise. "If he'll even talk to me."

"Oh, he'll talk to you," she says with a soft laugh. "Trust me, Emilia. A man who looks at you like that isn't going anywhere."

"You didn't see the way he looked at me this morning."

"We all fuck up. And, in your defense, Montaque was standing right there, just waiting to pounce. You did the best you could."

"It doesn't feel that way."

"Yeah, well, that's because you don't know Montaque," she mutters. "He's pure evil in a pretty package."

"Speaking of pretty packages…River St. James, huh?"

"Don't know him," she says, making me smile for the first time all morning. "Definitely didn't sleep with him. And absolutely am not planning to do it again."

"Good for you," I whisper. "Be safe. Have fun."

"Oh, I plan on it." An evil laugh ripples down the line before she sobers. "Call me when you get to the airport. I'll have something for you by then."

"Thank you." I clear my throat, gratitude putting a lump in my throat. "I mean it, Alice. Thank you."

"You can thank me by making me your maid of honor when you marry that man," she says before hanging up on me.

I send up a prayer that we make it to that day. Right now, it doesn't feel like it's even a possibility. But…I'm not giving up. Not on this and not on Nash. Even if it costs me everything, I'm all in.

I just hope he's still all in, too.

Chapter Nine

Nash

"You good, man?" Archer asks, leaning across the aisle to look at me.

"Fucking perfect," I grunt in response, staring up at the ceiling of the plane as we touch down in San Jose.

Coach won't even look at me. Emilia is back in DC by herself. Montaque is writing God only knows what. This is the ninth circle of hell. And there isn't a fucking thing I can do about it.

I'm mad as hell that Montaque ambushed us. I'm mad as hell that Coach found out the way he did. And I'm mad as hell I didn't put an end to all of this bullshit long ago. Emilia looked like her entire fucking world was crumbling this morning. And it felt a whole lot like mine was too.

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