Page 65 of Broken Player

"Put on the goddamn gloves and hit me," he demanded.

I crammed my shaking hands into the gloves, tightening and securing the velcro before curling my fingers into fists. I unleashed jab after jab into Connor's gloved hands, letting out all the rage, frustration, hurt, regret, and self-loathing bottled up until reality started to seep in. I was breathing hard, and sweat dripped down my forehead and stung my eyes. The fight in me subsided as agony took its place.

Fuck, my heart hurt.

Ripping the gloves off my hands, I stalked into the house and straight for the shower, not bothering to say anything to Connor. Deep down, I appreciated that he knew what I needed, and right now, he'd leave me alone to work through my shit.

After I took the shortest possible shower, not wanting to spend time with my thoughts, I got out and dried off, throwing on some joggers and stomping out to the kitchen. I tore through the cabinets looking for the bottle of whiskey I bought last week. There was still plenty left. I hadn't been drinking much since I was spending more time with Ryan.

Reaching for a glass, I poured a couple of fingers and tossed them back, relishing in the burn. I heard Connor step into the room behind me. I lifted the glass in his direction and raised my eyebrow, and he nodded, so I pulled him down a glass and refilled my glass and his. Handing his drink over, we both sipped our liquor in silence.

"Are we going to the wedding?" he finally asked.

"Fuck. I would give literally anything to not have to go to this today, but yeah, we are."

"Why?" He lifted his glass and took another sip, eyeing me over the rim.

"Because she asked me to," I answered simply, the words tearing their way up my throat.

"Okay," he agreed. "I'll bring an extra flask and have the plane ready as soon as it's over."

I nodded, finishing my drink and walking back to my room to get dressed. The wedding was in a couple of hours, and we had a long drive into Dallas.

The suit I asked Connor to bring me was hanging in my closet, and it was so fucking fitting for this day. I wanted to be prepared in case Ryan decided to go through with this clusterfuck. Getting dressed to watch the woman who possessed me on a level I wasn't even prepared to examine marry another man felt like a funeral. So, I decided to dress like it. Head to toe black.

A slim-cut black Italian wool suit with a black button-down and a skinny black tie underneath was what I had him bring, and staring at my reflection in the mirror, I hardly recognized myself. My eyes were clouded with grief, and I'd let my stubble grow out a little longer than normal, but I didn't give a shit. I wanted to look good for Ryan today, show her what she could have if she'd just change her mind, but I didn't have it in me to try.

I already asked, and she turned me down. I wasn't holding any hope as the wedding got closer that she'd have a change of heart.

With one final deep breath, I stepped out of the room and into the kitchen, pocketing all my essentials. I didn't plan on coming back here after the wedding. I needed to put some distance between Ryan and me for a little while so I could try and deal with the misery of what today meant for me, for us, for the future we could've had.

Connor stood in the kitchen, his suit more neutral in navy blue. He passed me a flask and tucked another into his inner jacket pocket. "Your spare," he explained.

"Thanks," I mumbled, knowing the alcohol wouldn't really help, but what the fuck else could I do to numb the torment?

Connor watched me closely as if he weren't sure if I was going to explode and tear the house apart or break down, but I could hold my shit in until we got on the plane at least. He grabbed the keys off the counter. "We don't have to do this," he reminded me.

"I promised her, Connor. I let her down once, and this is the goddamn price I have to pay for my fuck up. I won't disappoint her again." Clenching my jaw, I walked to the car and slid in, slamming the door closed.

A few minutes later, Connor joined me, and we started the long drive into Dallas. Neither one of us said much, I lost in my misery and Connor giving me space. I didn't know if more space was a good thing right now, but I couldn't think of anything to say.

He pulled up to the gates of the Rutherford Estate and gave our names, waiting for them to swing open. Driving onto these grounds, my stomach rolled, and I pulled the flask out of my pocket. I never thought this was a possibility, that Ryan would actually go through with the wedding. Over the past two weeks, we'd gotten so close it was like no time at all had gone by. I sawthe way she looked at me. It was the same way I looked at her. With adoration and devotion and a fuck ton of love and desire mixed in, too.

The way she looked at Yates? It was thinly masked annoyance on her best day, straight up contempt on her worst. So why the fuck was she marrying him? I didn't understand it, and maybe I never would. Maybe the way I abandoned her all those years ago was too much for her to forgive and overcome.

I ran a hand through my messy hair as I climbed out of the car. There were guests parking and walking to the back of the grounds, following a path lined with red roses. I rolled my eyes, knowing Ryan had no part in picking those. They were too cliche for her, and if she saw them, I had a feeling she'd hate them. The thought brought a small smile to my lips that disappeared as quickly as it came.

Connor walked around the car and stood next to me, our shoulders almost touching. With the looks he'd given me all day, I knew he'd have my back no matter what went down. He'd be there to clean up whatever mess I made of myself. It struck me how good a friend he became over the past year and how much I depended on him.

He glanced down at the watch on his wrist. "Wedding starts in half an hour," he pointed out. My stomach rolled again as I forced my feet forward, following that fucking path of red roses across the soft grass. As we rounded the house, a couple of huge white tents came into view. Off to the side was an aisle with two giant pedestals at the front overflowing with arrangements of red roses. I'd gone to a couple of weddings in the past year or so, and even I knew this style was severely outdated.

Connor and I finished trudging across the grass, and I found us two seats at the very back. I sunk into mine, but they were filling up fast. The only two open together were toward themiddle of the row, so I had no choice but to be sandwiched between a stranger and Connor.

I kept my sunglasses on and tried to avoid making eye contact with anyone. I saw Yates out of the corner of my eye at the front of the room, and when he spotted me in the back row, a smug smile stretched across his shitbag face. Clenching my jaw, I reached for the flask in my pocket, taking a healthy swig while watching him walk out of the room. It'd be fun to follow him and break both of his legs so he couldn't stand up there and marry my girl today, but I wouldn't do that to Ryan.

Sliding even further down in my seat, the effects of all the whiskey I had today started to numb the sharp edges of my pain. It probably wouldn't do shit when I had to watch Ryan walk down the aisle, but for now, I was floating along with a mostly pleasant buzz.

My hand shook slightly as I looked at the digital display on my wrist.Fuck.Five minutes. A cold sweat broke out across my forehead, and despite the Texas heat, a chill ran down my spine. Connor looked relaxed next to me with his ankle crossed over his knee, but I knew better. He kept checking on me out of the corner of his eye, probably making sure I wasn't going to do anything too stupid.

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