Page 11 of Pucking Forbidden

My fingers hover over the screen, ready to tell her that it’s me. But I hesitate. Some fucked up, twisted part of me wants to claim her just to show Jamison that I can. Just to punish him for daring to take her in the first place.

I want to destroy him the same way he destroyed me. But I’m not that guy, and using Jamison as an excuse would just be that: an excuse. He has nothing to do with the way I feel about his sister. He never has. I want her because she’s her. Because she’s the one person on this planet who sets me on fire.

But I let her believe his lies for a reason, not just to protect my secret, but to protecther. Because Iknowher. Telling her the truth about what happened will destroy their relationship now, just like it would have back then. And as much as I hate the prick, as much as I hope he suffers for the rest of his life, I won’t let her be collateral damage like he did.

Letting her hate me is still the lesser of two evils when the alternative is watching guilt tear her apart for choosing me over the brother she always idolized.

He’ll never deserve her loyalty. But she’s always deserved mine.

Me: Sorry, I don’t know a Jordan.

I intend to end it there; to fall back into my hole and pretend she didn’t knock my world out of orbit today. But apparently, she isn’t finished.

Sutton: Well, I do. At least, I did. But I guess he’s a coward just like my brother now.

“Goddammit,” I growl, tossing my phone onto the nightstand. But I don’t sleep. Not for a long fucking time.

Her text haunts me all goddamn day. I manage to piss off Coach and half the team with my attitude. I can’t focus on shit. All I think about is that text.

I guess he’s a coward just like my brother now.

I guess he’s a coward just like my brother now.

I guess he’s a coward just like my brother now.

Fucking hell.

Is that what’s happening here? I’m running because I’m a fucking coward? Using her relationship with Jamison as a shield to protect myself?

By the time practice ends, my mood is pitch black.

I stomp down the hall to Emilia’s office, desperate for a little clarity. She has to provide it to me and pull me back from the brink because I’m losing it.

"Hey, Jordan." She stares at me from behind her desk like she’s shocked to see me. Shit, I guess she probably is. I’ve been dodging every request she’s made for me to talk to her. Frankly, I wouldn’t be here right now, but…I need to talk to someone. At least she’s not allowed to discuss anything I tell her. "Do you need something?"

"Yeah." I stomp inside her office, my hands in my pockets. I feel like I’m going to crawl out of my skin as I pace around, trying to figure out where to start. "I need you to psychoanalyze me or something."

"Okay…" she says carefully, doing a shit job hiding the fact that she’s shocked I’m here. "What's going on?"

"We're playing the Bucks.” Might as well start there, right? It’s as good a place as any.

"You're still dealing with the fallout of what happened between you and Peters," she guesses.

"Fuck him," I immediately snarl, pinning her with a sharp look. "He deserved what happened between us."

"Okay," she says, just…accepting my version of events. She doesn’t question me, doesn’t doubt me. She just quietly accepts that I’m telling her the truth. The same way the guys on this team do. I’m not even sure any of them know the real story. I’ve never told them. I figure Archer knows because he knows every goddamn thing, but the rest of them? They’ve never asked. They just accept that Jamison deserved it.

"He sent his fucking sister to try to talk me," I say. It’s basically the truth. She wouldn’t be here right now, asking for my help, if he hadn’t told her to ask me, would she? I’m not sure that’s true. She lives here now. She didn’t move here just for the hell of it. "She ambushed me in the parking lot the other day, begging me to talk to him."

"Ah." Emilia leans back in her chair. "And you don't want to talk to him?"

"He should have been banned from the game for life,” I mutter. "But she doesn't know that. He fed her some bullshit about it being a misunderstanding."

That’s not entirely true, but it’s close enough to get the point across. The details don’t really matter. I’ve kept them to myself for so long, I don’t want to share them now, not with Emilia.

She eyes me silently for a moment, assessing. "What's her name?"

"Sutton."

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