Hailee has unleashed the single men of our group, and it’s sent the bunnies into a frenzy.
“Wow,” Freya breathes, forgetting about being under the spotlight as she watches Rett, Killer, and Monroe work the crowd of hungry women.
Rett and Killer are naturals, flirting their asses off and getting all manner of things thrust at them. Monroe is a little more subdued—shell-shocked might be a better term.
Ripping my gaze away from my horny teammates, I focus on my girl instead.
“You okay?” I ask.
“Yep. The worst is over now. I could really use a cocktail, though.”
I chuckle as I lead her deeper into the club, locate the stairs that’ll take us up to the VIP area, and follow our friends away from the chaos that this level is about to turn into.
52
FREYA
Once I have a drink in my hand and have settled into the vibe of the place, my anxiety begins to lessen, the knots in my stomach loosen, and my shoulders relax.
This place is incredible, or at least, the VIP area is. I haven’t been brave enough to go over to the balcony yet and look down. Knowing just how many people are down there puts me off.
The crowd outside was terrifying, and it took me back to a place I’d happily never be again.
Despite Cole's firm and protective hold, memories of times gone by assaulted me.
Back then, I thought I was living my best life. I had no idea that I was a glamorous media stunt.
I happily trailed behind him, gazing at him in awe.
I only vaguely knew who he was before I met him in Vegas. I’ve never really been a big music fan. I listen to the radio in the car or the kitchen, and I can sing along to a lot, but I never know the song titles or the artists, other than the really big ones. But the moment I was dragged into his orbit, he was the only thing I knew, the only thing I was allowed to see. My life consisted of nothing but Rowan Conaway and the Rusty Trinkets.
Pain lashes at my chest as I think about those times when I truly believed that I’d found the one. Shame follows the pain, along with regret. I wish I could look back at my time with Rowan with fondness. I got to experience so much more than I ever thought I’d have the opportunity to. Maybe one day that’ll happen. But it isn’t going to be any time soon.
The need to tell Cole what my life was really like, who was responsible, burns through me.
He has done nothing but support me. He deserves the truth; he deserves to understand just how messed up it all was. I might be recovering, but it’s always going to be there. If things work out and we attend more events together, I’m always going to be looking over my shoulder. Hell, there could even be a time when we’re at the same event. It’s unlikely; I don’t ever remember him socializing with athletes. He was too focused on climbing the music industry ladder to spend time with people who couldn’t give him a leg up.
“Freya?” Cole says softly. I blink, my vision clearing, and I find him ducked low so he can stare straight into my eyes. His brows are pinched in concern, and his lips are pressed into a thin line. “We should leave,” he states when I don’t respond. “There will be a back exit somewhere. We can find it, and I’ll call us an Uber to take us home. We shouldn’t have done this. I shouldn’t have asked you to?—”
I reach out and press two fingers to his lips, silencing him.
“I needed to do this,” I assure him.
“Goddamn, Whirlwind,” he groans, understanding just how hard fighting fears can be.
If anyone knows, it’s Cole. He’s spent his entire life fighting against the life he was handed. And now, he fears letting anyone close. I see them tormenting him sometimes, see him questioning whether his teammates, his friends, really can be trusted.
“I want to stay. I want to enjoy our night.”
His eyes light up with pride and adoration. The sight smacks me right in the chest, making me even more determined to put my past aside and to enjoy my time with him and his family.
“Okay,” he says. “How about we finish these, and then go dance?”
My brows shoot up. “I didn’t think you danced,” I tease, remembering the last time I pulled him onto the dance floor.
“Hey, now,” he says, acting as if I’ve offended him, but I can see the twinkle of truth in his eyes. “You already know what these hips can do.”
I bite down on my bottom lip. Watching Cole Hansley warm up his hip flexors is the thing of every woman’s fantasy. Suddenly, the image morphs to one of him in bed, on his hands and knees on top of me, and his hips moving just like that…
