Page 58 of The Linebacker

Well, hell.

With nothing left to lose, she stalked down the hall in his direction, head held high, fully aware that there were tears streaking down her cheeks and she’d left her cover-up in Amil’s room, so she looked half-naked.

She brushed past Jalen without acknowledging him.

“What the hell, Diana?”

She kept walking. Didn’t turn around. Went straight to the end of the hall, to the door leading to the stairs, instead of waiting for the elevator, which would give Jalen the chance to catch up to her and try to talk to her.

She had nothing to say to him.

She had nothing to say to anyone.

The next morning, she woke with a raging headache, a broken heart, and no text messages or missed calls from Amil.

She lay in bed, clutching her phone, staring at the last text conversation they’d had. A conversation about the cats that had turned into funny cat memes they sent back and forth.

She wanted to text him, but what the hell did she say? She’d happily apologize if it would put them back to where they were before she went to his hotel room last night. If they could pick up where they left off when they exited his truck in the parking lot at the airport.

But what if he said no again? What if he still insisted she give him more than she was ready to give?

Why the hell couldn’t he have continued to wait for her? Damn it, she’d probably get there…eventually.

Huffing out a groan, she rolled out of bed and headed for the shower. She had to catch the bus to the stadium. Do her job.

They had a game to win.

She could sort out her love life—or lack thereof—later.

Chapter

Twenty-One

A banquet room had been reserved in the hotel for the team and admin staff for breakfast the morning of the game.

Amil made a beeline for the coffee station. He’d gotten not a single wink of sleep last night. The night before a game.

A really big game.

Fuck.

What the hell had he been thinking last night? There ought to be a country song written about what an absolute dumbass he was. It would be an instant hit.

Him, realizing he couldn’t—or at least did not want to—live without Diana.

Drunk Diana showing up for a booty call.

Dumbass him turning her down.

Oh, but first he went and word vomited all the emotions he’d been keeping in check so she wouldn’t be scared away. And she’d hightailed it out of there so fast, he swore he saw a whirl of dust in her wake like in those old Road Runner cartoons.

Just like he knew would happen.

So why the hell had he done it?

Because he’d gotten all up in his own head. He’d so desperately wanted it to be real that he’d convinced himself she was ready, too.

She wasn’t remotely ready, as proven by how fast she ran from his room. They were lucky no one had been in the hall. That sure as hell would have added fuel to this dumpster fire, wouldn’t it have?