Page 102 of Runaway Bride and Prejudice

And only I know why Coach made the switch.

Normally, I’d feel just fine about putting the youngest and hottest-tempered player in his place. But since I got my spot back through what feels like paying blood money, I can’t even gloat.

Guilt seeps through me, a slow-acting poison.

I wonder if, since technically Coach is my father-in-law even if he doesn’t know it, this counts as nepotism?

“You guys are hilarious,” I say, still messing with my skate to avoid making eye contact. “Nothing happened on the trip.”

Lies.

The thing is—they'dneverbelieve me even if I told them the truth. That I fell in love and got married, then got ditched by my wife. Who now seems determined to pretend like it never happened.

Summer is the only person in thisstateI planned to tell. And only after she promises me that lawyer confidentiality stuff. I can’t risk her telling Nathan, even if he and Wyatt are the quietest, least likely to spill secret guys on the team. Or that I’ve ever met. Quiet grumps, saying everything they need to with a glare and a body-check.

No one can know what happened. Not even once I get this annulled or … whatever.

I tried googling annulment to see if that's a possibility. The first thing I learned was that I don’t know how to spell the word. Doesn’t it seem like it should have two Ls?

Anyway. I couldn’t quite cut through the legalese and Amelia must have taken the certificate or whatever we signed at the hotel, so I don’t even have that for reference. Summer is fluent in paperwork, so I figured between that and confidentiality, talking to her was a safe bet.

Too bad Amelia happened to be in Summer’s office when I went to ask. Oh, the irony.

I haven’t seen or heard a single word from Amelia since the note she left before running away. I tried texting, but my phone showed amessage not deliverednotification, so I guess she blocked me.

It’s even more ironic that after I helped Amelia run away from her first wedding day, she then ran away frommeon her second.

I hadn't planned to make the effort to speak to her unless it was absolutely required. Like to inform her that I figured out the way to annul our marriage—the one she thought was a huge mistake.

But in Summer's office, I wasn’t silent. I couldn’t seem to shut up.

This whole thing is going to come crashing down on my head now because there’s zero chance Parker and Summer didn’t notice the vibe. I saw the way they both frowned, their heads bouncing between the two of us like they were watching the weirdest tennis match they’d ever seen. One where the players were armed with swords as well as rackets and the ball was on fire.

But ifanyonefinds out, there’s no way Coach won’t also find out.

And then I reallywillbe dead.

My career, at least. I don’t think Coach wouldliterallykill me. Then again, I did miss him throwing a chair through a church window. He’s definitely been in a foul mood.

So there's at least a small chance of homicide. Possibly by furniture.

What I’m not sure of is why Amelia didn’t spill the second she got home. I doubt it’s to protectme.

Maybe because she’s embarrassed? That’s the only logical thing I can think of, and it makes sense. Amelia is, in all senses of the word, a golden girl. She was probably promqueen or valedictorian or something. Pretty and perfect and rule following.

And I’m … me.

I’m the Deadpool on a team full of Captain Americas. Well, a bunch of Caps and two Wolverines, by way of Nathan and Wyatt.

In any case, I’m the very last guy Amelia should be interested in, much less marry on a whim.

Even if, for a few days, we felt like we were in sync. Like we had something real and special and?—

“Dude, how’s your stomach?” Dumbo clasps a hand on my shoulder. Wyatt snorts.

“My stomach?”

“You’ve been off since the wedding.” When I say nothing—because what is he talking about with my stomach?—Dumbo continues, lowering his voice but not enough so the whole room doesn’t hear. “You know—the diarrhea?”

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