Chapter 8
Wendell
The best night of my life could not have been followed up by a worse morning.
If I could have imagined all the possible ways to wake up, I never would have pictured this.
I only called Savage once about what was going on so he could keep tabs on Peyton when I left and so that he could put out feelers on this Chrome guy, but I honestly never expected things to turn so quickly.
Obviously, he’s connected and was the right man to call.
Already grouchy because I have to leave town on a two-day away stint, I wake up to a text from my cousin, Savage. It’s just a link to an article.
And really, I should be relieved—ecstatic, even—when I read it. I mean, not because a man is dead, but because the man that was bothering Peyton is dead. And no, it wasn’t Savage.
Reading the article should take a weight off my chest. And it does. But the weight removed gets replaced by a much larger, sharper, more complicated boulder.
I just married my dream girl and thought I had a few months to convince her to fall in love with me. With this recent news, there’s no reason to stay married. But I should tell her the news even though it’ll break me.
I have to tell her the news unless I want her to hate me.
Fuck my life.
Phone in hand I sit on the edge of the bed glancing over my shoulder at her and heave a long, hard sigh. The timing between us has never been right. I met her too late. And then swooped in too early.
And now this. Even the protection I have to offer is no longer needed.
The bed dips when she rolls over with a soft moan. “Morning,” she mumbles, casting a shy smile in my direction.
“Morning.”
Really, I have two choices. Tell the truth.
Tell a lie. Either one is a risk, but at least if I tell her the truth and we break apart our friendship will remain intact.
Even though that’s changed due to the lines we crossed last night.
I don’t think I’ll ever be able to look at her the same again, now that I know how she feels.
How she tastes. What she looks like at the height of pleasure.
I swallow around the clenching in my throat.
“Good news, Peyton. Sad news, but also good news.”
Before pushing herself up on the bed, she rubs her eyes. When she leans toward me, I show her the article and instantly feel her body stiffen.
Silence eats up the space around us as I wait for her reaction.
Her morning voice sounds hoarse and she doesn’t make immediate eye contact. “That’s great.”
“Ya. I’m so relieved.” That’s truth with a huge sigh. I am relieved that she’s safe now. No one will be collecting on her late husband’s debt. No one will be calling her. Stalking her. Relief. That’s what I feel. But it’s served with a massive side of disappointment.
“One day…” The two words hang in the air, suspended by untold emotions. But if I’m being honest with myself, I hear the regret in her voice.
Ya. One day. If we had waited just one day, we never would have had to marry. Never would have shared our deepest fears with each other. Never would have shared our souls. Our bodies. One day. It can change everything.
“I have to leave soon for our away games for two days. Sorry I can’t be here for you.”
“Mhmm…” she nods solemnly at my side. “I’ll…um…work things out between us.”
“No. It’s alright. Don’t do anything. We can sort it out when I get back.”
Furrowed brows overshadow her confused eyes. “I’m capable enough to handle it.”
“You are. You can totally do it…I just…” Need more time. Don’t want you to leave. Don’t want to end this.
Shit. I’m a mess.
She rests her hand on my shoulder. “It’s okay. I’ve got this. Thanks for being such a good friend.”
I fucking hate that word.