Page 146 of Don't Let Me Go (Don't Let Me 2)

The word haunts me like an order of bad sushi. Because I might have been the one to throw out the term when I left a few nights ago, but he’s the one who’s embraced it wholeheartedly. The bastard hasn’t even reached out to me. Not really. Other than a quick text here and there…nothing. He hasn’t asked to hang out. He hasn’t asked if he can come over. Just good morning and good night texts. That’s it. And I want to hate him for it.

“Hmm,” Colt grunts, unconvinced. “Are you coming to the game tomorrow?”

“I’m busy.”

“With what?”

Annoyed, I pull up Doodle Jump on my phone and attempt to look occupied as I mutter, “I’m teaching Bridger and the rest of the kids how to play basketball on Saturday. Happy now?”

“What if they came to the game, instead?”

My cell lands with a soft thump in my lap, and I give him my full attention. “Like, the hockey game?”

Colt smiles. “Yeah. This way, you can come to a game, support your big brother, and expose the kids to another sport, which––from what Ash explained to me—is kind of part of the job. It’s a win-win, right?”

Except for the little tidbit about me potentially running into Theo at the game after our little blowup. But hey. Who’s stressing over something like that?

Me. I’m stressing.

So much so, I’ve been avoiding anything and everything to do with hockey, the Taylor House, and even SeaBird.

I shouldn’t.

I know I shouldn’t.

Sure, it’s only been a couple days since I saw him last, but it feels like a lifetime.

I promised I wouldn’t run. And I’m not. But facing him? It doesn’t exactly sound like a picnic, either. Not when it seems like he’s avoiding me too.

Why does this have to be so complicated?

“Come,” Colt pushes, bringing me back to the present. “It’ll be good to clear the air.”

Scooting further into the cushions, I clutch a pillow to my chest and huff out, “I don’t need to clear the air. Theo and I are fine.”

He scoffs but doesn’t call me out for it as Ash walks into the room in a white dress showing off her curves. The girl’s hot with a capital H, and I glance at Colt, catching his jaw almost unhinged as his gaze slides up and down her body.

I shove at his shoulder. “Gross. Get a room.”

But the bastard doesn’t even acknowledge me. He’s too focused on his girlfriend. Standing up, he wipes his hands against his jeans, strides toward her, and pulls her against him, kissing her softly. His fingers play with the ends of her curled blonde hair as he murmurs, “Like your dress, Sunshine.”

She smiles back at him and presses her lips to his. It isn’t lewd or over-the-top.

It’s sweet.

And makes my stupid heart ache.

I tear my gaze from the sight in front of me, picking at my cuticles while cursing that it isn’t enough to distract me from the love emanating from the opposite side of the room.

It isn’t fair.

How cute they are together or how I’ve been given a glimpse of what it feels like to have their kind of love. The kind you can feel from the top of your head to the tips of your toes. The kind of love that’s all-consuming.

I don’t want to give it up.

“Blake,” Colt says.

I clear my throat, force my hands to stop twisting in my lap, and look up at him. “Yeah?”

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