Page 75 of Blindside Me
Then, he steps back. Just a breath at first. Then more.
Like tearing Velcro apart, every inch of distancehurts.
His hand drops from my waist.
My fingers tighten in his shirt for a split second before I force myself to let go.
Neither of us speaks.
There’s nothing left to say that wouldn’t wreck us both.
Drew shoves a hand through his hair, muscles coiled tight, and for a beat, I think he’s about to yank me right back.
About to do something reckless and beautiful and catastrophic.
But he doesn’t.
He stares at me, eyes so dark and torn that it physically hurts to look at him.
Then he turns and walks away, shoulders stiff and fists clenched like he’s leaving a part of himself behind.
I stand frozen, the ache setting like wet concrete, letting him go.
He walked away, but the damage stayed.
For now.
Because he can fight it all he wants.
So can I.
But some battles were lost the second they began.
And this one?
We never even stood a chance.
There was never a version of this where we made it out clean.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
Drew
I nurse my beer, barely tasting it. Barton’s is a zoo. Blue jerseys and smeared face paint are everywhere, high from the win. I’m at a high-top with Easton, Blake, Ryan, and their girlfriends. I roll my shoulder, and let the win take the edge off. Jade’s supposed to be here. Our project is on track, sure, but it’s her laugh from that late-night study session that’s stuck in my head. My fingers tap my glass. Restless. Waiting for her to walk through that door.
“Earth to Drew.” Ryan waves his hand in front of my face. “You with us, man?”
I blink, dragging my attention back to our corner booth where Ryan, Easton, and Blake are crowded with their girlfriends. Maddy, Ryan’s girl, is tucked under his arm, her dark hair falling across her face as she laughs at something Easton just said. Amanda keeps touching Blake’s arm, giggling.
But my girl? She has to be kept a dirty little secret.
I fucking hate it.
“Yeah,” I say. “Just thinking.”
“About that filthy goal you scored.” Blake raises his glass. “That was sick, man. Coach Howell was practically getting off on the bench.”
Everyone at the table laughs. I force a smile and take another sip of my beer.
