Page 68 of Don't Let Me Go (Don't Let Me 2)

“I don’t want my whore money.”

The flippant way she says it gets under my skin and feeds my frustration. “You’re not a whore,” I growl, offering the money again.

She pushes my hand holding the stack of cash away and shoves it into my chest. “Look. You earned it fair and square––”

“Blake––”

“I don’t want it,” she snaps, taking a step away from me. And I hate the distance. The walls I can feel being erected around her. The strength she has to push me away when I know I’m not capable of doing the same.

“Well,” I look down at the cash, my stomach flooding with shame. “Neither do I.” I look up at her again and offer the money another time, desperation flooding my system, leaving me queasy. “Please, Blake. Take it.”

“Seriously. Keep it,” she orders. “Burn it for all I care. I gotta go.”

She turns on her heel and walks back into Russ’s office, closing the door in my face.

Fuck.

21

BLAKELY

It’s a home game, so I’ve been able to hide in Russ’s office. But if I stay holed up in here any longer, people will start asking questions, and those are the last thing I need.

I should’ve come out before the team even left the locker room, but I didn’t want to see Theo again. Didn’t want to give him another chance to talk to me after everything happened. Not only the actual sex part, but seeing the cash? The evidence behind why and how we happened? My stomach churns. I figured running home and waking up at the ass crack of dawn to hit up a High fitness class would be enough to clear my head after our little sexcapade, but it’s only made things messier.

Or maybe Theo’s offhanded texts were the final nail in the coffin. Regardless, I’m not stupid enough to think I can avoid him forever, but if I receive one more concerned look from Russ, it might be the death of me.

Steeling my shoulders, I walk through the tunnel and toward our team’s bench across from the penalty boxes. A familiar silhouette catches my attention.

“Mack?” I murmur.

Macklin, Theo’s older brother, turns around, his mouth pulling into a grin. “Blake?”

“Hey!” I race toward him and throw my arms around his neck. He returns my hug for a brief second and sets me back on my feet.

The guy’s as strong––and as hot––as I remember. If I weren’t in love with his little brother, and he hadn’t married his high school sweetheart, Macklin would definitely have been my first choice. The guy’s sweet, responsible, smart, and looks hella good in his paramedic uniform.

“How are things?” I ask.

And just like that, his enthusiasm from seeing me seeps into something else. Something more guarded and somber as he squeezes the back of his neck, avoiding my gaze. “Uh. Same old.” Clearing his throat, he looks at me again and adds, “What are you doing here?”

“I’m interning,” I reply. “Trying to get some experience in sports medicine and physical therapy.”

“Sports medicine and physical therapy, huh?”

“Yup. Is it surprising?”

He shrugs one shoulder. “Kind of figured you’d do something with kids, but this is great, Blake.”

“Yeah. I mean, I think it would be a blast to hang out with kids all day, but this has always been the plan, so…”

“Well, I’m sure you’ll kill it, and I’m glad at least someone can go into the medical field,” he teases. He’d been considering going to medical school before he got his girlfriend pregnant in high school. Obviously, the baby curveball threw him for a loop, and he decided to become a paramedic instead.

I tug at the Star of Life emblem on his shirt. “Seems like you found a pretty decent alternative.”

“Yeah, I guess so,” he hedges.

The whistle blows, signifying the start of the first period, and I grimace, hooking my thumb toward the team’s bench. “I should probably get out there. Good to see you, though.”

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