My eyes flash over to Dawson. “It’s been great. This is Dawson. He’s one of my teammates.”
My uncle’s hand shoots out. “It’s great to meet you. I’m Noland. Why don’t you boys come in? I’m guessing you’re here to pick some juice up?”
Juice.
That’s what we used to call any alcohol we got from Noland’s in high school.
“You bet we are,” I respond for the both of us.
I didn’t have any intentions of drinking today, especially with practice starting at six in the morning. But I can’t get the image of Becca and that guy out of my head. And this will definitely help.
“You know where everything’s at. Hasn’t changed. Grab what you need. Just let me know what you take, so I can reorder,” Noland says as he holds the door open for us.
We step through the threshold, and my fingers are tingling for one specific bottle. My favorite—peanut butter whiskey.
I grab a new bottle and twist the top off, knowing damn well that I should stop right now and put the bottle back.
I should stop before this drink.
I should stop before my second, before my third.
I should be smart.
But by the time I finish my eighth drink, I can’t remember what I was supposed to do.
And I can’t think of anything, except honey-blonde hair and how it feels between my fingers.
EIGHT
Becca
“Do you enjoy these parties or are they just part of the job?” Sophie asks as a knock sounds on the door.
“Come in,” I shout from my seat as a warm wave of my hair falls onto my shoulder.
I think my answer through before responding, as I always do. “I like them for what they provide. Getting dressed up, speaking with the investors, and treating them like royalty means they continue to give us money, and they continue to promote the hotel. I like that.”
Keanu clears his throat. “You guys look great.”
He quickly looks at Sophie, but his eyes linger on me for much longer. Unfortunately, if Keanu has any feelings for me, they will never be matched. He’s a great guy who goes above and beyond for me. Any girl would be lucky to be his girl. But my heart only loves one guy, Callum. And he deserves the goddamn world, which means I am not a part of it. Sometimes hearts are better off broken.
“Thanks, Keanu. Stay close tonight. This party is going to be full of groping old men. And I am never in the mood for that.” I lay my palm on his chest as he opens the door for us.
The slit on my floor-length beaded gown parts as I step through the open door. I adjust my chest, making sure each boob is settled perfectly in the deep V.
I feel petite fingers on my shoulder before I can react. And at that moment, I am not in the hotel. I am not with people I trust.
I am thrown back in time to that horrid room with Brady’s hot breath on my neck, on my chest. And my body cringes, and the most disgusting shiver dances across my skin.
I shove it down—no time for that right now. But I can’t shake the feeling of his fingers on me, burning into my flesh and bones.
Sophie notices how uncomfortable I am and immediately pulls away. “Sorry, your strap was twisted. I should’ve thought … I’m sorry.”
Her face is warped with pain, pain that I’m sure mirrors my own.
I might not have many talents. But I do have one that outshines all others. I am very good at denial and pushing everything beneath the surface. Cool and calm on the outside, a raging inferno inside. Always on the verge of exploding, one strike of a match away.
But there’s only one person who holds that match—Callum.
