My anger eventually burns away the haze, the ringing in my ears. Rolling over onto my back, I see Sebastian leaning over me, panic written all over his features. In my twenty-one years, I don’t think I’ve ever seen my oldest brother afraid for me. It makes my chest clench. Damn him. Why do I feel things so strongly now?
“Ow,” I say.
Relief softens his mouth. “Idiot,” he mutters. “You could have at least moved out of the way.” He speaks in a low tone so the others can’t hear.
“Shoulda, coulda, woulda.” Ugh. I feel like shit.
Coach Wheeler pushes through the circle. When he sees I’m in one piece, he blows out a breath. “You trying to give me a heart attack, Dumont?” He turns to Sebastian before I can answer. “Take your brother off the field.” He then adds, to me, “You’re sitting out the rest of the game. And you and I will be having a talk afterward about your... poor performance of late.”
I’m so happy to hear I don’t have to play anymore that I bob my head, ever the meek pupil. “Yes, Coach.”
Pulling one of my arms around his shoulder, Sebastian wraps his other arm around my waist and helps me off the field. We bypass the rest of the team, their looks of irritation and confusion and relief, and Max—whose jaw works but who doesn’t offer to help. Then it’s past the bench and back into the thankfully empty locker room.
“Glad you weren’t broken in half,” Sebastian comments as he lowers me onto the bench. “That wouldn’t have been pretty.”
I scrub the sweat from my eyes. “Yeah.” After a pause, I say, “Thanks for the help.”
“Why didn’t you move?”
Because I’m an idiot, clearly.Either that, or I don’t have a normal fight or flight response. Some people would be able to survive a crash landing on a deserted island. I, however, would not. “Kellan’s here, somewhere. I’m going to look for him.” I decided this on the field. With his return, it’s no longer my responsibility to keep up the lie. My part is done. I want to remove myself from the situation as quietly and painlessly as possible. It’s time to put this lie to rest.
Chapter 24
Max
After watching Sebastian help Kellan off the field, I struggled to get my head back in the game. Clemson scored, not once, but twice. I could care less. Watching Kellan go down... I was halfway across the field before recalling what I had seen less than an hour earlier.
I don’t understand. After spending the night together, I was positive Kellan felt for me what I felt for him. It took a while to accept Kellan wasn’t who I thought he was—someone who thought with his heart, not his cock. He’s deep. Both shy and giving, yet with walls surrounding his heart. Once those walls came down, however, I discovered a man who craved affection. The connection is there. It’s not all in my head. No longer does he brag about hitting up the clubs, the nameless, faceless people he’s wooed into his bed. He’s changed.
Or I thought he had. Yet there he was, kissing another guy, plain as day. A sucker punch to the gut.
Was I wrong then? Was what we shared nothing? Did I want Kellan so badly I imagined the spark? It didn’t seem like he was acting. The moans coming from his mouth the other night? Those were real. The vulnerability in his eyes as I paid for dinner—also real.
The whistle sounds, ending the first half. The cruel wind cuts deep as my teammates and I jog off the field. While everyone heads to the bench to rehydrate, I head to the locker room. Striding through the door, I spot Kellan leaning against one of the lockers, phone in hand. My focus narrows on the line between his eyebrows, the pursing of his mouth, a lock of dark hair falling over his eyes. I stride over to him, furious, hurt beyond all measure, but in the process, it’s like my brain short-circuits and instead of demanding an explanation, I grab the front of his shirt and yank him toward me. He lifts his head, eyes wide, but I’m already crushing my mouth to his.
My heart thrums in my chest. It gallops faster and faster the longer the kiss goes on for. Except Kellan isn’t kissing me back. His mouth is stubbornly shut, and he keeps trying to rip his mouth away, his words muffled, but I won’t let him. I pour all the betrayal I feel at seeing him toss away the night we had into the kiss. Not even a week before he moved on. It feels like someone’s ripped open my chest and crushed my heart in an iron fist.
Someone clamps a hand onto my shoulder, wrenching me backward. Then a fist slams into my jaw.
Stars shoot across my eyes as I crash into the lockers. A guy’s voice, one I’ve never heard before, demands, “What the fuck was that?”
I’m on the ground, my flaming cheek pressed against the cold floor. Kellan responds, but I can’t make out the words. My ears are ringing. I move my jaw back and forth. I don’t think it’s broken. “Shit,” I manage, pushing into a standing position.
“Who the hell are you?”
It’s the guy I saw kissing Kellan earlier. He has striking blond hair and frost blue eyes, made even bluer by the deep tan of his skin, as if he’s spent his entire life under the sun and only comes inside to sleep. Where Kellan has the distinct physique of an athlete, with long toned legs and broad shoulders tapering to a solid waist, this guy is built like a linebacker. He tops Kellan by a few inches. His biceps are twice the size of my own. Yet the hand he rests on the back of Kellan’s neck, while possessive, is gentle. The sight makes the air go out of my lungs.
I force myself to breathe. The edges of my vision start to fuzz. I’m not going to embarrass myself by breaking into pieces. I have my dignity.
In a surprisingly level voice, I say, “I think the better question is who the hell are you?”
“I’m Kellan’s boyfriend.” He speaks with his eyebrows raised. Anger stiffens his mouth, but it’s a confused anger more than anything.
It’s a blow I wasn’t expecting. If Kellan’s had a boyfriend this entire time, then what the hell have we been doing the last few weeks? And why didn’t he tell me he was cheating on his boyfriend with me? I wouldn’t have gone farther than a friendly wave if I had known.
Instead of answering the boyfriend, I look at Kellan. His face is twisted into a mask of shock, stupidity. His mouth has gone slack. “If you’ve had a boyfriend this whole time,” I say, “then why did you sleep with me? Didn’t you know I was starting to develop feelings for you?” My voice catches on the last word.
“Whoa, whoa, whoa.” The boyfriend lifts his beefy hands. “There’s no way you slept with Kellan. He was with me in Mexico the entire time. We didn’t even get back to Indiana until this afternoon.”
