Page 108 of What If I Hate You
“That part right there,” I whisper. “The part where you’re in love with me.”
Her eyes narrow. “What if I don’t want to say it again? What if I’m tired of it being too complicated, Barrett? What if I just want to scream into the void and walk away because it’s easier?”
I chuckle. “You’re so goddamn stubborn, Rivers, you know that?”
“God I hate you,” she responds. “Doyouknowthat?”
I laugh this time. “No, you don’t. Just say it.”
“Fine. I love you. Is that what you want to hear?”
“Yep.” I beam at her, letting my new and improved Care-bear stare overtake her pissy mood. “That’s exactly what I wanted to hear.” I take a step closer, grounding myself in the reality of the moment; the cold ice beneath my feet, the sound of her breath, the way she’s holding herself like she’s about to run.
Her beautiful green eyes are filled with a mixture of anger and vulnerability. Sharp yet glistening with unshed tears, they seem to see right through me, baring all her fears and doubts, almost as if they’re silently pleading for me to understand.
And I do.
I do understand.
“Running won’t fix this, Blakely. It won’t fix how you feel or how frustrated you are and it won’t change the fact that I’m here, right in front of you, wanting to be part of this with you.”
She shakes her head, frustration bubbling over. “But this isn’t just about you and me. It’s about my career, my passion.Hockey is my life, and now it feels like I’m being told to choose a side. Ether I’m the girl who loves the player, or I’m the reporter who knows the game. I can’t do both.”
“Why not?” I challenge taking another step closer, my heart racing as I try to close the gap between us. “Why can’t you be both? You’ve already proven that you’re a damn good reporter and an incredible skater. You know the ins and outs of hockey like any of us on the team. Hell, you’re good enough to be one of us for God’s sake. You can be both, Blakely. You don’t have to let anyone dictate who you are or what you can do. This is your life. It’s your story and you’re the bestselling author.”
Her eyes soften, just a little, but the tension is still there, wrapping around us like a thick fog. “And what if being both means I lose you?”
“That will never happen because I’ll fucking fight for you,” I promise, my voice low and steady. “I’ll fight for us, but you have to trust that I’m not going anywhere. I love you way too much to let someone else determine our fate.”
Her eyes go wide, like I’ve just sucker-punched her with the words.
“You—what?” she breathes, blinking at me like she’s not sure she heard right.
I square my shoulders, refusing to back down. “You heard me. I said I love you.”
Wow. That fell out of my mouth way easier than I thought it ever would.
“No.” She shakes her head, a sharp, jerky motion. “You don’t just throw that out there like it’s…like it’s ammo in the middle of a fight.”
I scoff. “First of all, we’re not fighting. And secondly why the hell not? You did.”
“Barrett, this isn’t the time for games. You can’t just drop ‘I love you’ like it’s a punctuation mark in a sentence.” Her voice trembles, but I see the fire still flickering in her eyes.
“I’m not playing games, Blakely. I’m dead fucking serious.” I step closer, closing the distance between us until I can feel the heat radiating off her. “This might not be the perfect time or place, but when is it the perfect time to tell someone you love them if it’s not when they’re having an emotional day and need to hear it? No matter what, it’s the truth. It’s my truth. I love you, Blakely. And hiding from it or burying it under what Simon said to you won’t change how I feel about you.”
Her breath catches, and I can see the conflict twisting behind her gaze. “But what if this complicates everything? What if it ruins the great thing we had going?”
“What we had going? You mean the hot sex and fiery arguments?” A laugh bubbles up, raw and disbelieving. “I mean, I fucking love both of those things, but that’s not what I want. I want more than that. I want every trip to Home Goods with you. I want all the silly holiday decorations that bring you joy and I want all the butthole throw pillows and every soft blanket you can find. I want the text exchanges about our friends trying to emulate our sex life and fuuuck do I want our sex life. I want to be changing the bed sheets every fucking time you orgasm. I want to devour your pussy on every goddamn surface I can dream up. I want lazy summer nights with you and hectic winter mornings when we’re in the throes of the season. I want every loss and every win with you by my side. I want it all Blakely and I want it with you. And if that means fighting through bullshit and facing challenges together, then hell yeah, I'm in. I’m not going to run from this just because it gets tough.”
She bites her lip, a habit I know all too well, and I can sense the battle waging inside her. “You’re saying that now, but what happens when the pressure rises? When the media startshounding you about me? Or when your precious reputation is on the line?”
I shake my head, cutting through the tension. “I think we both know what the media thinks of me, Blakely. My reputation isn’t exactly peaches and cream. I don’t give a shit what they think. I won’t let them dictate our relationship. I won’t let anyone dictate who we are to each other. I’m not afraid of the noise.”
Her eyes soften, and for a moment, I think I see a flicker of hope there. “But what if it gets messy? What if it ruins everything we built?”
“Then we’ll clean up the mess,” I reply, stepping closer until my chest is almost brushing against hers. “I’d rather have a messy love with you than a clean life without you.”
She swallows hard, and I can see her heart racing beneath her skin, raw and exposed. “It’s just?—”
