Page 119 of Catching Feelings

?CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

MILES

I’m seeing someone.She’s fucking seeing someone. Of course she is. It’s been months since we’ve been together, and she’s a beautiful woman. No doubt she’s had a line of men waiting to ask her out.

If I had a fucking clue what went wrong between us, I could wrap my brain around being rejected by the only woman I’ve ever loved, but our relationship—or lack of one—makes no sense.

Yeah, I screwed up with the online shit, but we’ve talked it out, I think. There’s gotta be another reason why Rowan pushed me away.

Or maybe she was never into me as much as I was into her. And by into her, I mean more than my cock in her sweet, tight pussy. Hell, this woman has wrecked me for any other woman, but apparently I haven’t wrecked her for other men.

The unfamiliar jealousy pushes me through a grueling workout. Not wanting to be pestered, I go heavy on the crude talk, the stupid jokes, and force myself to appear like a jolly fucking fool.

Bankes shakes his head as he walks past Dec and a few other guys playing caps at the other end of the locker room. It’s a stupid game I came up with a few years ago one day when I stepped on a fucking water bottle cap with my bare feet. I chucked it across the room and it landed in the trash.

I then turned it into a competition, and now it’s a ritual, especially during playoffs.

“What’s Dec rambling about now?” Bankes asks as he changes in front of his locker.

“The chick he fucked when he went down to the Bahama’s during our bye week. Slipping his piña into her colada.” I pull up my sweats and dig around in my bag for a shirt.

“We need separate locker rooms for the married guys.”

“Ah, come on, Spanky. I’ve seen your junk. You’ve got a pecker the size of the Empire State Building. No doubt Riley scales you like King Kong every night.”

“Jesus.” Bankes shakes his head. “Don’t talk about my wife like that.”

“I was talking about your wanker, not her—”

“Buck.” He holds up his hand to shut me up. When I concede, he turns serious for a moment. “You’ve been on and off all season. Last week was your best game yet, but today you were off again at practice. You gonna be good Sunday night?”

He doesn’t need to tell me the importance of the playoff game.

“Sure. Why wouldn’t I be?” I pull my sweatshirt over my head and swing my duffle bag over my shoulder.

“If there’s anything you need to talk about, I’m here. We’ve got tomorrow off to rest. I’ll be home all day if you want to stop by.”

“If I stop by, it’s to see my man Emmitt and to hit on your wife.”

He shakes his head and I slip out of the locker room, avoiding the game of caps. I don’t feel like making anything to eat when I get home so I order food and drop to the couch and pick up my game controller. Getting lost in the void of video games is better than thinking about Rowan with another man.

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