Page 59 of End Game
“We’re professional athletes, man. These guys are used to getting whatever the fuck they want whenever they want. And Callum, he’s the worst.”
“The Quarterback Effect,” I say. “They love calling the shots, the attention, and the glory.”
“I’ll show him fucking glory,” Finn growls, taking a hard right through the streets of downtown.
My breathing is shallow as I imagine how fast it would take for his fist to hit my face if I told him exactly why his sister wasupset tonight. I’m guessing three seconds, giving him two for time to process.
My life is so beyond fucked up right now and I don’t see a way out. The acid of anxiety hits my liquored-up stomach and I start heaving.
“Don’t puke in my car,” Finn says, sliding the car over two lanes and into the parking lot of a grocery store with a half-lit sign.
I press open the door and expel my guts, the alcohol burning almost as much as my head. Everything parades through my mind like the clouds on a bright day that zoom by. It’s like each thought—Layla, the baby, Finn’s reaction, Callum—shoot by, taunting me with their state of undoneness.
Finn hands me a warm water bottle and I don’t question it. I just fill my mouth, swish it around, and spit onto the gum-riddled pavement.
“You okay?” he asks as I shut the door.
“No.”
He shoots me a curious glance and pulls back out on the road in silence, which is good, because anything I have to say would test out that three-second theory.
CHAPTER 18
LAYLA
Exposé Top Story: Best Shocker!
We see a lot of Branch Best. (Granted, most of our female readership would argue we don’t see quite enough.) Despite the compromising positions we find Number Eleven in, this isn’t usually one of them.
Best was seen coming out of the Standen Hotel late last night with Finn Miller. Eye witnesses say Miller was actually holding up his friend and helping him into his SUV.
We can’t say there’s much Best could do to shock us, but this is very abnormal for him. We’ve seen him in the throes of a bender and it still didn’t look this bad. Not able to stand? There’s gossip there and we’ll let you know when we figure it out. Stay tuned.
“Who’s making breakfast?” Poppy turns her head to look at me. “You? You’re gonna be a mommy. I feel like it would be good training.”
“Sometimes I hate you,” I laugh, stretching.
“Hate me all you want but I’ll take French toast and bacon.”
“I’m not making you breakfast.”
We lie in my bed, the sun coming through the light blue curtains and filling the room. My body feels like it’s been through the wringer and I’m afraid to move.
Morning sickness has been hit or miss, but that’s not really my worry. I’m worried how I’ll feel mentally once I let the sleep fog roll out and reality fill the void.
Every morning since finding out I was pregnant has been a little rough. Again, not from the nausea, but more from the unknown.
My heart pings with the memory from last night. Remembering his face and the way he looked at me like I was some kind of groupie playing a game is something that might haunt me forever. I’m not sure what I really expected, but I didn’t expect to feel like a piece of trash.
“You’re going to be fine,” Poppy says softly.
I swing my legs off the side of the bed and sit up, feeling my stomach settle. Giving myself a few seconds to gather my thoughts, I’m relieved that I don’t feel sad.
I’m pissed.
“I’m going to be better than fine,” I say, getting to my feet. “This was unexpected, but, like you said, it’s a baby. I’m having a baby.” Letting those words wash over my tongue and linger in the air, I absorb them. “I just need a little while to come up with a plan and figure out how I’m going to do this.”
“Have you told your parents?”
