Chapter Eight
Emilia
" N ash," I moan as he presses me up against the side of the bus early the next morning, his body pinning me in place as he attacks my throat with stinging bites.
He grinds his dick against my ass, growling softly. "Still time to put you in my bag, princess," he breathes, nipping my ear. "You can be naked and waiting for me in my room after the game tomorrow."
I whimper, heat blowing through me in waves.
"I can feast on you in celebration." He licks a line down my throat, slipping a hand between us to palm my pussy. "You know that's what you want."
"Nash," I whimper, my knees threatening to buckle under his sensual onslaught. Good lord, there is no stopping this man when he's determined to get his way. He's sex on legs. Or in skates. Whatever. The point is, he's too hot to handle.
"Whatley! Where the fuck are you?" my dad shouts from the other side of the bus.
"Goddammit," Nash growls, pressing his face up against me. He takes a steadying breath before placing a soft kiss to my throat. "Guess that's my cue to let you go."
"Yeah, I guess so."
"You better be waiting for me in bed when I get home on Saturday."
"Maybe."
"I mean it, Emilia. I want you naked and dripping wet, ready for my cock." He nips my throat again. "I think I'll keep you on it for the rest of the weekend."
"We'll see," I say.
"Yeah, we will see," he growls, spinning me around to kiss me breathless. When we're both panting, he breaks away with a groan, pressing his forehead to mine. "Goddamn, I hate leaving you."
"It's not my favorite thing either," I admit, my heart feeling like it's in a vise. "But I do enjoy watching you walk away, Whatley. That ass is a thing of beauty."
He doesn't smile. Instead, he groans again, his lips brushing mine. "Forty-eight hours," he mutters like it's a lifetime. "Forty-eight fucking hours."
"Whatley!" my dad shouts again. "Don't piss me off, kid. Time to get your ass on this bus!"
"You gotta go."
"Yeah." Nash sighs, reluctantly pulling away. "See you soon, princess."
"See you, Whatley."
He turns to head toward the other side of the bus…and my freaking heart drops into my stomach. Charles Montaque is standing right there, watching us.
"Fuck," Nash growls, going rigid.
"I thought I recognized the two of you last night," he says, smiling at us like we're old friends and he isn't about to blow up Nash's entire life. "But it was dark outside of the bar, so I wasn't sure. I guess this is confirmation."
He was at the bar last night? He was watching us ?
Bile crawls up my throat, threatening to choke me.
"Fuck off, Montaque," Nash says, his hands in fists as he steps toward him. "You don't know what you're talking about."
"It seems pretty clear to me, Whatley. You're fucking Lariat's daughter."
"Watch who the fuck you're disrespecting, Montaque."
"What the fuck is going on back here?"
No. Oh, no.
My dad steps around the side of the bus, glowering at Montaque…and then he notices Nash standing a few steps from me, his body angled as if he's trying to keep me out of sight. His brows pull down as he looks from Nash to me and then back again, suspicion slowly taking root in his eyes.
"Dad, I…"
"How do you feel about your daughter dating Whatley, Lariat?" Montaque asks, blowing up my world without a single care.
For the longest, my dad doesn't say a word. He just stares at me, complete silence stretching between the four of us. "Is this true, Emilia?" he finally asks, his voice softer than I've ever heard it.
"I…" I glance at Nash, the truth right there on the tip of my tongue. My heart screams at me to say yes, to tell my dad the truth and damn the consequences. But Nash's career might just be the consequence. His future may be the price.
That's the story Montaque is waiting for—how dating me ripped apart a team headed for the Playoffs. I see it in his eyes. He wants this to blow up, wants it to be a big, torrid scandal he can hock to the masses. He doesn't give a shit if this is my life or Nash's career. All he sees is a damn story to sell.
And I don't want to give him the ability of telling it. But I should. For Nash's sake and my own…I should.
I shake my head anyway, denying the truth with tears streaming down my face. And as soon as I do it, I know I'm making the wrong decision. I'm failing myself and I'm failing Nash. But I'm still so fucking scared of ruining him that I make it anyway.
The look in Nash's eyes when he meets my gaze… I hate myself for putting that devastatingly handsome, broken look on his face. But he doesn't stop me. He doesn't say a word. He just quietly accepts that, even now, I can't tell the damn truth about us.
I wrap my arms around myself, trying to hold myself together as my heart threatens to shatter into pieces.
"Get on the bus, Whatley," my dad says.
Nash turns away from me without a word.
"Nash," I whimper, my freaking soul screaming in protest.
He doesn't stop. He just walks away without even looking at me.
"Montaque, get the fuck out of here. We have nothing to say to you," my dad growls at him, a warning in his voice.
Montaque holds up his hands, backing away. "No problem, Lariat. I got what I needed anyway."
I bite my lip, fighting back a sob.
My dad just stands there, staring at me like he's never seen me before.
"Please, let me explain," I whisper.
"Go home, Emilia," he says. "We've got a plane to catch."
"Dad, please."
"Go home." He turns on his heel and stalks away, leaving me standing in the parking lot by myself, staring after him, certain I broke three hearts today. And only one of us deserved it: me.
I'm not even sure if I'm welcome at Nash's place anymore, but I go there anyway. I fall into his bed, clinging to his pillow like that'll hold me together.
It doesn't.
I cry until I can't breathe. And then I pull out my phone, texting him with shaking hands.
Me: I'm so sorry. Please, talk to me.
When he doesn't respond, I cry some more.
I've been so fucking afraid of losing him, of being the one who ruins his career, and then I pushed him right out the door anyway. All because I'm a coward.
He deserves so much more.
Why couldn't I speak up for once? Why couldn't I stand up, just once, and tell my dad that I made my choice, and my choice is Nash?
Because, on some level, I'm still that little girl afraid to disappoint the man who gave up everything for her. I think in some ways, I always will be her, clinging to my dad because he stayed, because he loved me enough to stay.
But she can't rule anymore, not when entire tracts of my heart belong to someone else. Not when my whole damn soul is tied to a man who would walk through fire for me. My father did what he did because he was my father. That's what a parent is supposed to do—choose you. Love you enough to choose you no matter what.
But Nash? He'd choose me simply because he's mine. Because, even if he hasn't said it, he loves me. Not because he has to love me, not because it's his job, but because he feels the same undeniable pull I do.
That man is crazy about me.
And I feel the exact same way about him.
He deserves for the whole fucking world to know it.
If the choice is my dad or Nash…there is no choice.
It's Nash. It'll always be Nash.
I dry my eyes, take a deep breath, and then text Alice, praying I'm not too late to fix this.
Me: I need a favor.
Alice: What's up?
Me: Can you call?
My phone rings not even two seconds later.
"What's up?" she asks. "Why aren't you at work?"
"Long story," I say, crawling from the bed to throw my stuff into an overnight bag, determination fueling every step.
"Are you crying?"
"Not at the moment."
"What did he do?" she growls.
"He didn't do anything. I did." I sigh, my bottom lip quivering. "Charles Montaque ambushed us this morning, and my dad found out about us. I screwed everything up."
"That son of a bitch! You need help killing the story?"
"No. I, um, need help changing the narrative." I quickly explain what I want and then pause. "Can you do it?"
"Yeah," she says quietly. "I can do it. But are you sure, Em? Once you put it out there, you can't take it back."
"That's the plan," I whisper. Nash and the way I feel about him isn't something I want to take back. Not now, not ever. That's what I should have said this morning. That's what he deserved to hear. He deserves to hear it now. Even if it's too late and I've broken it beyond repair, he still deserves to know that he isn't a secret. He isn't something I'm ashamed of. And he doesn't deserve to be hidden away.
It'll kill me if he never wants to see me again. But so long as he knows that he never deserved to feel like a dirty little secret, I'll live with the pain if that's my fate. I'll never get over him. I'll never move on. He'll have every single piece of my heart forever. But the whole world should know that Nash Whatley isn't a scandal. He's the most incredible man I've ever known. And he should know that, too. He always should have known that.
"I'll make it happen," she promises. "I'm assuming you need it done sooner rather than later?"
"As soon as you can make it happen. I plan to be on the first flight out."
"Good for you," she says. "Go get your man, girl."
"I am." I clear my throat, my heart in a vise. "If he'll even talk to me."
"Oh, he'll talk to you," she says with a soft laugh. "Trust me, Emilia. A man who looks at you like that isn't going anywhere."
"You didn't see the way he looked at me this morning."
"We all fuck up. And, in your defense, Montaque was standing right there, just waiting to pounce. You did the best you could."
"It doesn't feel that way."
"Yeah, well, that's because you don't know Montaque," she mutters. "He's pure evil in a pretty package."
"Speaking of pretty packages…River St. James, huh?"
"Don't know him," she says, making me smile for the first time all morning. "Definitely didn't sleep with him. And absolutely am not planning to do it again."
"Good for you," I whisper. "Be safe. Have fun."
"Oh, I plan on it." An evil laugh ripples down the line before she sobers. "Call me when you get to the airport. I'll have something for you by then."
"Thank you." I clear my throat, gratitude putting a lump in my throat. "I mean it, Alice. Thank you."
"You can thank me by making me your maid of honor when you marry that man," she says before hanging up on me.
I send up a prayer that we make it to that day. Right now, it doesn't feel like it's even a possibility. But…I'm not giving up. Not on this and not on Nash. Even if it costs me everything, I'm all in.
I just hope he's still all in, too.