Chapter Thirty-Five MILLER I went to practice earlier than necessary. Mainly because I knew that once Sanchez and Em talked things out, I wouldn’t want to be within a one-mile radius of whatever the hell sort of bedroom gymnastics they were going to be a part of. I ran a few laps around the stadium and started to stretch, when some of the cheerleaders made their way onto the separate section of practice turf they typically took over either right before our practices or sometimes during. Em wasn’t there yet. For months I’d been trying not to love her, trying not to want her, and now that I knew the truth about our friendship and about the way she felt for Sanchez, it just seemed so . . . normal. The world hadn’t ended. The sky hadn’t fallen. My life wasn’t over. But the crack in my heart . . . it was still there, just not as painful since I’d talked with her, since we’d made our peace and I’d watched her walk away. But it was there. And it made me wonder if sometimes the greatest loss y
Chapter Thirty-Six SANCHEZ I couldn’t wipe the grin from my face. I hated that guy. The one who smugly puffed out his chest like he was the shit after a banging round of sex. I clenched my fists; the leather of my gloves made a tightening noise as I rounded the corner and made my way onto the field. Em had already run the opposite direction after I’d slammed my mouth against hers in front of at least half my team. Staking my claim. Daring any of them to say shit against me for fraternizing with one of the sexiest cheerleaders I’d ever met. Mine, she was mine, and I sure as hell wasn’t going to let anyone stand in the way of that—not even Miller. I clenched my fists harder. And worried that the look on his face would break me. Because I knew that it could have easily been me, the guy whose fucking heart was split in two because he hadn’t gotten the girl. I took a deep breath and made my way toward Miller. Jax eyed me cautiously, but he didn’t tell me to stop. “So . . .” Miller didn’t ev
Chapter Thirty-Seven EMERSON “Wow.” Kinsey crossed her arms. “You didn’t stop smiling the entire practice, even when Coach Kay did a surprise weigh-in at the end of all that conditioning.” She paused. “Must have been . . . magical?” I scowled to try to hide my smile and failed. “It was . . .” I sighed, trying to find the words. “Unexpected.” “Whoa there.” She jogged to catch up with my stride as we made our way through the parking lot. “What do you mean unexpected? This is Grant Sanchez. One should expect greatness from that guy. I mean look at him.” Amazing timing as always. The guy was supermodel-gorgeous as he strode through the parking lot with Miller. Both of them were wearing sunglasses. Miller had a tight T-shirt on while Sanchez was wearing a leather jacket that hugged every part of his body in all the right places. And his jeans . . . Ripped in all the right places. They were probably illegal in most states, not that I cared. He was mine. Mine. “Stop sighing,” Kins whispered u
Chapter Thirty-Eight MILLER General Manager Jackson Mills was in Coach’s office. “Shit,” Sanchez hissed beside me. “That’s not a good sign.” “It could be nothing,” I lied. I knew it was something. You didn’t just pull in the GM for nothing. I knew we were too good to cut, so that meant they were pissed about something. “Gentlemen . . .” Jackson pointed to the chairs. “Have a seat. This won’t take long.” The man was a silver fox, could make money in his sleep, and had five kids by way of his equally attractive Southern belle of a wife. I liked him—a lot. But from far away, not up close; it felt like I was getting called into the principal’s office, only a hundred times worse. Coach eyed us both and frowned. “You two getting along alright?” “Yup.” We both answered quickly and then chuckled. “He’s the best tight end in the league.” Sanchez shrugged. “What the hell isn’t there to like?” “Oh . . .” Coach nodded. “So you’re gonna play it that way, hmm, Sanchez? How about the fact that you’re
Chapter Thirty-Nine EMERSON I ran to my house to grab more clothes and check on my dad. I also needed to grab my laptop so I could catch up on some schoolwork. Dad said he was doing well, but I felt guilty the minute his eyes lit up when he saw me. I’d been spending almost all of my time either at practice, working, or with Sanchez. I’d been checking in on my dad every day, but I knew it wasn’t as much as I normally did. The texts from Connie helped and Dad always texted me with updates on what he was doing, even if the texts were jumbled and didn’t make sense. I’d opened my mouth to apologize, but Dad spoke first. “I’ve been thinking.” “Oh?” I was almost out the door. “About what?” “Maybe it’s time you found your own place.” He smiled, it was one of his old smiles, the ones that he used to give me before his illness. And I wanted to cry. He was having one of his good days. Which meant he knew how old I was, and that I lived with him because I couldn’t bear for him to be on his own. “I
Chapter Forty SANCHEZ Game 3 Pirates vs. Bucks Home Turf Favored Team: Bellevue Bucks I needed my mind in the right place, and Em had this uncanny ability to focus me where nobody else could. She was my center, my gravity. I worked through my warm-up routine and shoved jackass Jackson’s words out of my head. Focus, focus, focus. I counted to ten. Jumped twenty times. Walked the field and listened to some Mozart—my secret, and one I knew I’d eventually confess to Em just because I didn’t want anything between us. I knelt and felt the grass between my fingers, then the dirt. I counted the distance from the fifty-yard line to the goal on both sides. And I envisioned every single catch I’d make. I thought about the Pirates’ weaknesses and how to expose them and went through every route I knew Jax would call. I was ready. A half hour later, I was walking with Jax toward the middle of the field for the coin toss. “Home team, Bucks. What’s your call?” “Tails.” Jax always called tails. The las
Chapter Forty-One EMERSON They won the next five straight games. And even after I was shown on the big screen, nobody asked Sanchez questions about his love life. It seemed like everything was finally settling. The only thing I hated was his away games. It’s not that I didn’t trust him; it was just that I knew what went on when guys got together. And I knew that there were plenty of girls who wanted nothing more than to seduce the crap out of someone like Sanchez. Visions of Lily always popped up then. So, I’d have Kinsey over, we’d laugh about it, and I’d shake it off. We were at Jax’s place watching the guys annihilate the Jacksonville Tigers when I had a bad feeling. I couldn’t explain it, other than when I talked to him on the phone, I’d felt like I was losing it. I just . . . I didn’t want him to play. What kind of girlfriend was I? I even texted Miller to make sure that he watched out for Sanchez. I knew the next play; Grant and I had kind of teased one another about how he knew
Chapter Forty-Two MILLER If I could take his place, I would. And I meant it. To see my best friend utterly destroyed . . . I would rather die. I would rather be dead. I held her tight. I made him promises I knew I would die to keep. And I prayed . . . To a God who never listened when I asked for my mom to come back. To a God who never listened when my dad turned into an alcoholic. To a God who ignored me when I cried over losing Em. You owe me, I thought angrily. And I could have sworn I heard a voice say, “Trust me.”
Chapter Forty-Three SANCHEZ I dreamt of her lips—they were hot, then cold against my burning skin. Each time I saw her face, I tried reaching for her but couldn’t feel anything, not even her mouth when she touched mine. It was torture. And then the dream would end and blackness would consume me again. It was either the worst nightmare ever . . . Or I was dead. I think I’d choose death over constantly dreaming of a woman I couldn’t touch, couldn’t kiss, couldn’t taste. “Grant?” her voice called to me. I opened my mouth. Parted my lips. “Grant!” The voice was stronger. God, I wanted to reach out and touch the voice. “Open your eyes.” I was trying. I felt my wrist move and then my fingers. “He’s moving!” Miller yelled. Why the hell was Miller in my dream? Stay the hell out, man! I was having a moment with my girl! Could have sworn she was going to take off her shirt. I smirked. “Why is that bastard smiling?” Miller said out loud. “Swear, if he’s faking this, I’m going to punch him in the
Epilogue MILLER Post-Champi
onship Party Las Vegas Aria Penthouse 3:00 a.m. I woke up to a pounding between my eyes that felt like someone had taken a jackhammer to my nose and pounded for hours. Wincing, I tried to move and felt so nauseous that I froze. I never partied during the season. Which meant, since we’d won the championship, the guys and I along with all of our friends had decided we needed to go big. Party in Vegas! We took flights down the night after the win and had been drinking ever since. Emerson warned us. Kinsey warned us. Hey, guys, they’d said in those irritating voices. Remember, you haven’t been drinking, so you can’t drink as much and not get hungover. Yeah, that hadn’t gone over well. We drank more to prove them wrong. Though, Sanchez had stopped because he wanted to be able to perform sexually. But when he said sexually, I could have sworn he’d added in a few extra x’s and nearly stumbled into the wall. The room finally stopped spinning. I reached for the bottle
Acknowledgments I’m so thankful to God that I’m able to wake up every morning and live this incredible dream—my road started with being a children’s counselor to somehow writing romance and I wouldn’t change a thing. If anything, I’ve learned that the road always leads, you just have to follow it, and sometimes that’s a really scary thing. Thank you to my savior Jesus Christ for so many things that it would take years to list. My husband and Thor (the totally awesome toddler who’s more like his daddy every day—especially with that whole fruit snack situation). You are my BOYS and I love you dearly. It’s like wearing my heart on the outside of my body and then trying to protect it while said heart runs into walls and jumps off cliffs . . . I’m probably already gray, I just don’t know about it because my hair stylist keeps letting me dye my hair purple, which brings me to my hair stylist, Jake, thanks dude, for always lying to me about the true color of my hair and constantly giving me a
About the Author Photo © 2014 Lauren Watson Perry, Perrywinkle Photography Whether they’re Regency romance or sexy New Adult fiction, Rachel Van Dyken’s novels have appeared on national bestseller lists, including the New York Times, the Wall Street Journal, and USA Today. She writes—a lot—but makes sure she takes time to enjoy the finer things in life, like strong coffee, watching The Bachelor, and dreaming up hot new hunks. Rachel may get way too excited about the little things, but she loves the important things in life too—like living in Idaho with her husband, son, and two boxers. Follow her writing journey at www.RachelVanDykenAuthor.com and www.facebook.com/rachelvandyken.
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The Consequence Series
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Toxic
Fearless
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Hurt: A Collection (with Kristin Vayden and Elyse Faber)
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Every Girl Does It
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This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, organizations, places, events, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.
Text copyright © 2017 by Rachel Van Dyken
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ISBN-13: 9781477809204
ISBN-10: 1477809201
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To all the women out there: own your awesome, hold your heads high, and remember how fearfully and wonderfully made YOU are. Grandma always said all you need is a bright lip and heels and you could take over the world. Well, what do you say? #runtheworld
Contents
Prologue EMERSON
Chapter One EMERSON
Chapter Two EMERSON
Chapter Three MILLER
Chapter Four EMERSON
Chapter Five MILLER
Chapter Six EMERSON
Chapter Seven MILLER
Chapter Eight EMERSON
Chapter Nine EMERSON
Chapter Ten MILLER
Chapter Eleven EMERSON
Chapter Twelve MILLER
Chapter Thirteen EMERSON
Chapter Fourteen MILLER
Chapter Fifteen EMERSON
Chapter Sixteen MILLER
Chapter Eighteen EMERSON
Chapter Nineteen MILLER
Chapter Twenty EMERSON
Chapter Twenty-One MILLER
Chapter Twenty-Two EMERSON
Chapter Twenty-Three MILLER
Chapter Twenty-Four EMERSON
Chapter Twenty-Five MILLER
Ch
apter Twenty-Six EMERSON
Chapter Twenty-Seven MILLER
Chapter Twenty-Eight EMERSON
Chapter Twenty-Nine MILLER
Chapter Thirty EMERSON
Chapter Thirty-One EMERSON
Chapter Thirty-Two MILLER
Chapter Thirty-Three EMERSON
Chapter Thirty-Four SANCHEZ
Chapter Thirty-Five MILLER
Chapter Thirty-Six SANCHEZ
Chapter Thirty-Seven EMERSON
Chapter Thirty-Eight MILLER
Chapter Thirty-Nine EMERSON
Chapter Forty SANCHEZ
Chapter Forty-One EMERSON
Chapter Forty-Two MILLER
Chapter Forty-Three SANCHEZ
Epilogue MILLER
Acknowledgments
About the Author
Prologue
EMERSON
Bellevue High School—2007
Senior Year
The Big Game
6:30 p.m.
“Emerson!” Miller slammed his hands against the locker room door at least ten times before he stopped and then started again; this time it sounded like he was using his cleats. “I know you’re in there!”
“Emerson!” Miller yelled again. “I will break down this door!”
“Just go away!”
“No!”