Page 77 of Lucky Shot

Who the fuck am I kidding? She’s all I was thinking about anyway.

I take a sip and savor its taste on my tongue.

There’s something about Whitney Barnes I can’t seem to shake no matter how hard I try.

It’s ridiculous. It’s annoying. It’s . . . unfulfilling.

I’ve had many women. It’s not a brag, just a statement. A statement to remind me there are hundreds more out there.

And maybe it would be easier to think of them, to answer my buzzing texts as the guys text me from a club and tell me to meet them. I could find a woman to make me forget about Whitney for the night.

It’s tempting.

Fuck is it tempting.

But my legs are sore from practice and my head is fucked, but is it really worth it when my arse has to be up bright and early in the morning? Do I want to play the game tonight, pretending I care about whatever the woman I take home’s name is and then figure out how to walk away from her apartment unscathed afterward? Do I want to lose myself in someone else when I know it’s not going to do a goddamn thing to sate this desire I have for Whitney?

My phone buzzes again. I hold it in one hand while finishing off my beer with my other and contemplate my options on all fronts.

Fuck if I know the answers.

Then again, am I flogging a dead horse?

“I’ve wanted things my whole life, Hardy, whether it be a family, a guy, a chance, a home to belong to, and all I’ve ever known is that it doesn’t happen for me. Nothing does. So it’s way easier to step back when I begin to hope and if you can’t understand that, then point proven.”

I told her we’d fuck when she finally gave in to our chemistry, but maybe I was wrong.

Fuck this. Fuck the overthinking. Maybe finding some trouble will help get my mind off the one woman who doesn’t want me.

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

Hardy

Fifteen Years Ago

“Mate. You fucked up. There’s no way in hell your mum and Daddy Moneybags are going to show,” Archie, my roommate, says as we stare out the window at every car that pulls up in the circular driveway of Kentwood Academy.

It’s parents weekend. Three days of showing off to our DNA donors what the ridiculous amount of money here buys and does for their precious sons. It’s a weekend full of pageantry and stuffy events that most of us students don’t give a rat’s arse about.

We just want our parents here because we miss the normalcy of home. The bear hugs from our mothers. The baked goods and special treats they bring with them. The feeling of being accepted unconditionally when here, there is always someone competing with you for something.

When’s the last time my mum showed up for one?

The first one. That’s it. There’s been a good four that have passed since then, and each time there’s a reason, an excuse, a grand apology and a box of something over the top to make up for the sudden trip she “needed” to take or event she “needed” to attend.

Each time I’d sit at this window and stare at the cars arriving, hoping the person who’d climb out the back seat would be my mum. And with each car, time after time, I’d get my hopes up and then crushed.

It was only after I made it back to my dorm that I’d get the message from the headmaster that she’d sent word about whatever reason her life was more important than I was.

But she’ll come this time.

I guaranteed it.

“You know the stunt you pulled is legendary. It’s going to be talked about for years to come.” Archie pats me on the back. “It’s already taken on a life of its own.”

“Hmm,” I say as another car starts down the long drive toward the school entrance.

Creating a slip-and-slide down the middle of Founder’s Hall at two in the morning was just my little contribution to the fun here.