Page 96 of Win Big

“Twenty-six.”

“Phhht.” Lacey waves a hand. “This is not a big deal.”

“I can’t screw up again! I can’t fall for a guy who plays for the team my dad owns! I let this go too far, it should have just beena few very public dates and now emotions have gotten involved and it’s a big mess.”

She studies me across the table. “Ah, Ev. I’m sorry. Maybe you should talk to Wyatt about it.”

“I can’t.” I shake my head. “I can’t tell him about that.”

She sips her wine, clearly pondering. “Well, here’s what I say. If you love him and want any hope of a relationship with him... you have to tell him. That’s what a relationship is... honesty.” She sips her wine again. “And if you tell him and he can’t handle it, then you couldn’t have had a relationship anyway.”

I think about her words. I’m not sure I buy in to them, though. “Okay, I’ll think about that.”

19

WYATT

We get backfrom our road trip in the middle of the night. I slept on the plane, but I still go straight to bed when I get home. I’m sore and tired and horny.

I can’t wait to see Everly.

We text when I get up, and make plans for dinner. This time those yahoos aren’t crashing my dinner date. We’ll go somewhere else, not the place we all hang out. I make a reservation at The Fig Tree.

I arrive early at Everly’s place, because it seems stupid to sit at home waiting to see her. She might still be getting ready, but that’s okay, I can hang out.

She doesn’t answer the door right away and I’m almost going to ring the bell again when finally the door opens.

Not only is she not ready, she looks like hell. I step in. “Hey. What’s wrong?”

“I’m not feeling well. I’m sorry.” With a hand on the wall as if she needs it to balance, she makes her way into the living room, then lowers herself carefully onto the couch. “I was going to text you. I was hoping it would pass.”

“Pass?” I frown, following her. “What’s wrong?”

She doesn’t answer, her eyes closed. Her face is flushed and shiny.

I perch on the edge of the sofa and touch her forehead. “Fever?”

“No.” She swallows.

“What can I get you?”

“Um. Some ice water?”

“Sure.” I hasten into her kitchen to fill a glass with ice and water from the fridge dispenser, then return.

She gulps down half of it and hands it back to me. I set it on the table, worry jabbing at my insides.

“I’m sorry,” she says again. “I don’t think I can go out.”

“That’s okay. We’ll just stay here. I can order something in.”

“Sure.”

She’s probably not hungry.

This is just what she was like that night of the banquet, when I had to bring her home. I thought she was drunk.

I gnaw my lip. “Have you been drinking, sweetheart?”

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