Page 28 of One Last Puck

“I do—man.”

“Oh, and you succeeded, so congratulations to you!” I clapped my hands.

“They don’t know that,” he replied.

“You’re just like every other dog ass nigga. You want me to let my guard down, give you a chance so you can… play games. It’s always a game.”

“It’s not like that. I like you, Faye. The only reason I bet them niggas was because I knew that they didn’t have a chance with you. You’ve always been mine.” The desperation was apparent in his voice. “I wasn’t playing games with you, Faye Baby.”

“Then why did you let them bet on who could fuck me? Why you ain’t shut that shit down from the jump?”

I held my hand up. I didn’t want to hear the response. My ride share pulled to the curb, and I slipped into the back seat without hesitating.

“You almost made me believe I was yours,” I whispered.

Tears stained my cheeks as the driver pulled away from the curb. If I didn’t have a goodbye brunch with the network executives tomorrow, I would be headed straight to the airport, but I would have to take this to the chin and handle business.That’s what I was here for. I had no business trying to entertain a man in the first place.

The door clicked shut behind me as I stumbled into my hotel room. My heart was heavy, and my face was covered in dried tears. This night had gone from amazing to drama filled real fast. Shit, I felt like I had whiplash.

I didn’t waste any time. I peeled off my dress, not caring where it landed. I moved through the room without bothering to turn on the lights. I just needed to drown my mistake in the shower and go to bed. I entered the bathroom, turned on the water as hot as possible, and hopped in.

The warmth of the water consumed my body as it flowed over me. I let the sobs I’d held in escape my lips as everything I’d been bottling in flooded to the surface. God, when did my entire identity become grief? Avery swirled in my mind, thoughts of him and our love mixed with the lingering glance from Jax.

“I’m done,” I whispered. “No more one-night stands.”

I cried, but as much as I wanted to blame Jax for all this, I had to hold myself accountable. I should have been more selective with the men I chose to give my body to. Trying to heal sorrow with sexual pleasure only left me with more sorrow. I needed the type of healing that one couldn’t get through sex. I understood that now.

I turned off the water and wrapped myself in a towel. I was ready to crawl into bed, but a loud knock on the door jolted me back to reality. My heart raced. I already knew it was Jax. I had half the mind to ignore him, but I needed to get him away fromthe door before he caused a scene. Making my way to the door, I looked through the peephole. Sure enough, it was him.

“Leave me alone, Jax!” I shouted.

“Please, Faye,” he begged from the other side. “Just hear me out.”

I pressed my forehead against the cool door. “There’s nothing you can say to change what you did.”

“I know.” His tone was desperate but sincere, and a small part of me wanted to listen. I tried to open the door for him, but I just couldn’t. “I’m sorry, Faye. Please, open the door,” he pleaded. “I care about you. Our connection was real. Faye.”

His words sailed through the door. I didn’t know what to believe.

“Please, leave me alone,” I said. My voice cracked as I turned away from the door. I waited for his response, but I was met with silence.

“I’ll wait until you’re ready to forgive me,” he whispered just loud enough for me to hear him through the door.

Taking a deep breath, I dragged my feet to the bed. He would be waiting forever because I would never forgive him. I crawled under the sheets, pulling them tightly around my body. I would wake up tomorrow, and Jaxton Saint would be a part of my past.

Four MonthsLater

I sat on the wooden bench of the locker room with my headphones in my ears, attempting to drown out the excitement from my teammates. It was the season’s first game, and I couldn’t lock in because I couldn’t stop thinking about her. I stared at my phone screen, and my heart sank a little as I flicked through the latest episode ofThe Porter Report, staring at Faye. It had been four months since I dragged myself away from her hotel room. I had been reduced to watching her beautiful face light up on the screen. It wasn’t like I hadn’t tried to reach out. I had. She just wasn’t fucking with me. Shit, Lafayette acted like I didn’t even exist. I hired a private investigator and got her address to send her roses. She sent them motherfuckers back. Isent messages, but she blocked me. Hell, she even canceled my appearance on her podcast.

A deep sigh escaped my lips, and I pinched the bridge of my nose. I needed to get my head in the game, but I couldn’t focus, not with her smiling and giggling through this interview with Braelon Jackson.

“Aye, Jax, you good?” Le’Andre asked from the other side of the locker room.

“Yeah. Just… trying to get in the zone,” I muttered.

I was glued to the screen. The way she smiled at the camera had me flashing back to the night we’d spent together. I spent less than twenty-four hours with the girl, but I just couldn’t shake that connection we had.

“He’s good,” Liam spat. “His simping ass just pining over that damn reporter again.”

---