Page 74 of Let Me Love You

Buchanan scoffs. “Doesn’t matter. Because she’s in a twenty-one and older bar, ´surrounded by men who are all her senior. You’re lucky the only photo they snapped of her was when she was hugging Colt, her brother, instead of looking like she’s some underage puck bunny being passed around between players.”

I jerk back, disgusted. “Careful, you’re talking about my fiance´e.”

“The paparazzi don’t give a shit who she is. They’re gonna do what it takes to get clicks, and a congratulatory article announcing an engagement isn’t going to give them half as many as an abusive prick cheating on his girlfriend.” He casts another glare at Colt beside me.

“I’m sorry,” Colt repeats. But he doesn’t look apologetic. He looks bored. Because his mind is elsewhere. It’s how it’s always been with Colt. When shit gets rough, he detaches. It’s how he survived his father’s death, and it’s how he’s surviving this. Meaning, he’s a hell of a lot more gone than I’d assumed.

Fuck.

“We need to fix this,” Buchanan orders. “We need to show that the players on the Lions team are loyal, respectful, and don’t beat their women. Understood?”

Colt and I nod.

“Good. Now sign this.” Buchanan grabs a single sheet of paper and hands it to Colt.

As he scans the document, I ask, “What is it?”

“It’s a contract stating if either of you is involved in another stunt like this, you’re off the team.”

The scratch of pen on paper grates on me as Colt scrawls his name across the dotted line. I do the same.

Satisfied, Buchanan stands up and rounds his desk back to his chair, effectively dismissing us. “Now, get the hell out of here.”

With our proverbial tails tucked between our legs, Colt and I stand and walk out the door, taking the elevator to the main floor in silence.

“You okay?” I ask when we reach Colt’s truck.

But he stays quiet, his attention glued to the ground as he climbs behind the steering wheel. When I slide into the passenger seat, I look at him again and wait. Because I know Colt. And I know he needs to talk, even if he doesn’t want to. If he keeps all this shit bottled up inside, he’ll explode. He’ll do something rash. Something he’ll regret.

“Talk to me,” I order.

Scrubbing his hand over his face, he gives in and grumbles, “My life is so fucked, man.”

“It isn’t—”

“It is.” He leans his head back against the headrest, staring up at the ceiling. “I think Jaxon’s mine.”

I hesitate. Unsure what the hell I’m supposed to say. Because if I found out I’d knocked up a girl before I was with Blake, and she showed up on my doorstep with the kid, I’d lose my fucking mind. But there’s no going back. Not now. So do I congratulate the bastard?

“Ash is playing the martyr and wants me to consider giving Eleanor a real shot so Jaxon can have both his parents playing house together. On some level, I can see where she’s coming from. I don’t want to be a shitty dad who’s too selfish—”

“You’re not selfish,” I insist. “But youarestupid. Do you actually think it would work? Don’t you guys remember how it turned out with Mack and Summer?”

Colt hesitates, letting my words sink in. After a short pause, he shakes his head and continues. “It’s not just Jaxon. I’m screwing up left and right. I ruined your engagement announcement, and now, I look like I enjoy pushing women around. I…” his chest heaves, and he shakes his head back and forth. “I wanna quit. I’m tired of this. The spotlight. The attention. The responsibility. I wanna…disappear.”

“You tried disappearing once,” I remind him dryly. “How’d it work out for you the first time?”

He snorts and turns on the ignition. The engine rumbles to life. “Pretty shitty.”

Yeah, pretty shitty is an understatement. After his dad died, he quit hockey, rejected his scholarships, and enrolled in a random university as far away from his previous life as he could get.

Yet he was still miserable. Still unable to accept his father’s death. Still unable to run from his love of hockey no matter where he hid.

Yeah. If he’s learned anything from the last few years, it's running doesn’t get you anywhere. Not sure why he thinks this time would be any different.

“Sometimes fighting through the hard shit brings out the best shit, ya know?” I murmur.

“Yeah.” He swallows thickly and shoves his truck into drive. “Yeah, you’re right.”

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