The Rival: A Washington Rampage Sports Romance

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The Rival: A Washington Rampage Sports Romance Page 16

by Megan Green


  Cheers exploded, completely drowning out the rest of his words and the commentator’s thoughts. It wouldn’t have mattered anyway because the sound of my own heart hammered so hard and fast in my chest that I could hear nothing else above its thrumming.

  Miles had gone before me.

  This wasn’t supposed to happen.

  I was supposed to be drafted seventh. By the Rampage.

  Johnson was supposed to go tenth to the Rattlers.

  This can’t be happening…

  But it was.

  As quickly as the announcement had been made, Miles was whisked out of his seat, the sea of people surrounding him to offer their congratulations. The sound was deafening, growing with every passing second.

  When the mayor—yes, even the mayor had come out for the occasion—stood up at the microphone onstage and suggested they move the party outside, so the rest of the attendees could continue watching the draft, Miles reached back and grabbed Avery’s hand, leading her out into the hallway outside the auditorium.

  She followed behind him without so much as a backward glance at me, her face beaming with pride as she walked behind her boyfriend.

  The last remaining shards of my heart shattered as I watched her leave.

  Three picks later, my name was finally announced, my dreams of going to the Rampage officially a reality. My mother screamed when my name was announced and then immediately burst into tears. My father clapped me on the back, his voice thick as he told me how proud of me he was. Even the mayor came down to offer his congratulations, telling me the Rampage couldn’t have asked for a better player.

  None of it mattered though. Because the one person I wanted by my side wasn’t there. The one person I’d always envisioned sharing this moment with was outside in the hallway, celebrating with someone else. She didn’t even know I’d been selected, the heavy doors and the din of the crowd outside drowning out the sound from the auditorium.

  That was the moment I knew that I’d lost her forever. The last remaining tendrils of hope I’d been holding on to since the day she started dating Miles—hope that she’d eventually realize how wrong they were for each other and how perfect we were together—evaporated into nothing, leaving only heartache in their wake.

  I’d been wrong though when I thought that Avery had taken the shards of my heart with her when she followed Miles out of that auditorium.

  Because, two minutes later, when the doors to the auditorium were thrown open, an excited Sammy running down the aisle to where the remaining people inside still sat, those shards I thought had broken earlier were completely pulverized by three little words.

  “She said yes!”

  I whirled around, just barely catching a glimpse of Avery in Miles’s arms, her face buried in his shoulder as she sobbed and held on to him like her life depended on it.

  Then, the doors swung shut, effectively closing the door on my view of her. And on my heart.

  Chapter 24

  Avery

  I take another sip of my wine, once again checking the time on my phone with an irritated huff.

  Seven fifteen.

  The asshole is late. I should’ve known better than to come here.

  If it wasn’t for this perfectly good glass of moscato, I’d already be gone, all thoughts of Miles and his bullshit apology slash need for closure dumped into the hypothetical trash where they belonged.

  My stomach churns as I sit and watch the door, thinking Miles not showing might honestly be for the best. I didn’t have a chance to talk to Carter before his game, a quick text telling me they had landed and were already on the way to the field because of a flight delay the only word I got from him. I didn’t want to tell him about my plans to meet with Miles via text message, especially not when he was supposed to be preparing for a game. So, instead, I just kept my mouth shut.

  It’s not that I’m hiding it exactly. As I said, I just didn’t want to cause him any sort of distraction. Because Carter has absolutely nothing to worry about my being here tonight. And telling him about our meeting would have only caused him to fret about something meaningless when his focus should be elsewhere.

  But, still, it doesn’t sit right with me. Carter and I might go back as far as I can remember, but this relationship is new. The last thing I want to do is anything that’s going to mess it up.

  There’s no use in worrying about it now though because Carter’s game started hours ago. There’s no way I could get ahold of him to explain right now even if I wanted to. But, as soon as it’s over, I’m going to call and tell him everything.

  I polish off the last sip of my wine, using my napkin to dab at the corners of my lips before tossing it on the table and climbing to my feet. I toss a twenty next to the napkin, certain that’ll be more than enough to cover my wine and a tip.

  I’m halfway to the door when it flies open from the outside, a whirlwind of a man and the actual wind blowing in and causing an uproar in the lobby.

  “Is she still here?” I hear a very familiar voice say.

  “Fuck,” I mutter under my breath.

  I was so close to avoiding this whole thing. Now, my explanation to Carter is going to be a thousand times harder. It was bad enough when I thought I’d just have to explain the fact that I entertained the idea of seeing Miles. Now, I’m going to have to tell Carter about our whole meeting.

  My eyes dart around the room, my mind immediately searching for an escape route. Maybe, if I can get out of here before he sees me, I can still salvage some semblance of my dignity and my relationship with Carter.

  Too late.

  I feel the moment his eyes find me, the hair on the back of my neck instantly standing on end.

  “Avie!” he shouts, ignoring whatever the hostess was saying to him and moving across the restaurant.

  As he approaches me, my eyes fall to the floor, not wanting to meet his gaze. This whole thing is ridiculously awkward.

  What in the hell was I thinking when I agreed to this?

  Obviously, I wasn’t. Not really. But we’ll save that thought for another day.

  “I’m glad you’re still here,” he says when he reaches me, lifting his hand to my arm.

  I take a step back, out of his reach, making it clear he’s not allowed to touch me.

  He at least has the decency to look chagrined. “Sorry. It’s still just a little weird to me to see you and not be able to touch you.”

  “Yes, well…it’s a little weird to me that you’d think I’d let you touch me after you touched God knows how many other women.”

  His face falls. “I deserved that.”

  “You deserve worse,” I bite out.

  He nods. “You’re right.”

  I feel the gasp rise up in my chest, and I’m powerless to stop its escape. I don’t think, in the entire three years of our relationship, Miles has ever uttered those words to me before. I certainly wasn’t expecting them now.

  He gestures toward the table. “Can we sit? I have a whole lot to say, and I think it would be easier if I didn’t have to worry about you bolting for the door in the blink of an eye.”

  I look between him and the door, pulling my bottom lip between my teeth.

  Miles must read my apprehension because he quickly adds on, “Please, Avie. Ten minutes. That’s all I’m asking.”

  With a sigh, I turn and head back to the table I just vacated, pulling out the chair and sitting down before Miles can even get the idea of coming around the table and doing it for me. Not that he was ever much of a gentleman, but he seems to be laying it on thick tonight, and I want to make sure he knows exactly where I stand before this even begins.

  In fact…

  “Before you start, I just want you to know that, no matter what you say here tonight, it isn’t going to change anything. I’m with Carter now. I’m in love with Carter.”

  Miles’s expression doesn’t change at my words, his arms reaching across the table and trying to grab my hands with his, as if he didn’t hea
r a word I just said.

  I yank my hands out of his reach. Shoving the chair back from the table, I stand, shaking my head in disgust. At him or myself, I’m not entirely sure. I mean, I was the stupid one who agreed to this.

  “I see you haven’t changed a bit. Nice going with that therapy bit. You actually had me fooled for a minute.”

  Miles stands and moves around the table, his hands up in front of him in surrender.

  “I’m sorry, Avie. It was a habit. I promise to behave. Just please, sit.”

  I warily eye him. “On one condition.”

  The frown on his face immediately turns to a smile. “Name it. It’s yours.”

  “One, don’t touch me again. And two, stop calling me Avie. You lost that right when you cheated on me.”

  He winces at the acidic tone that crept into my voice at the end but nods. “Done. Though you said one condition, not two.”

  I narrow my eyes, moving to step around him and head toward the door. Miles steps in my path again, his hands coming up to halt my movement by grabbing hold of my shoulders. However, he seems to think better of it just in time, his fingers stopping just centimeters away from me and dropping to his sides instead.

  “Two conditions are fine. I promise to keep my hands to myself and stop calling you Avie. Just hear me out.”

  Against my better judgment, I sit, crossing my arms over my chest and giving him my best well, get on with it look. The longer I’m here, the more I realize this was a stupid idea. But, for whatever reason, I just can’t bring myself to leave when he’s asking me so earnestly to stay.

  “I have a sex addiction,” he starts, his tone so even and matter-of-fact that it takes me a moment to register what he said.

  “I-I-I’m sorry. What?”

  He levels his gaze on me. “I have a sex addiction, Avery. I’ve been seeing a therapist, and he’s been helping me work through it. Helping me learn to manage my urges. Helping me learn to control myself.”

  My brows furrow. “I, um…I don’t know what to say here, Miles. Congrats, I guess. I mean, I’m glad you’re getting help.”

  He smiles. “Paul—that’s my therapist—says that sex addiction can be just as bad as a drug addiction. It makes you do things you normally wouldn’t. Makes all rational thought disappear, your mind completely consumed by getting your next fix.”

  I nod. “I see. So, now what? Do they have sex addict rehab?”

  I mean the question seriously, but Miles laughs as if I just said the funniest thing he’d heard in ages. When he realizes I’m not laughing with him, his face falls, his brows pulling together as he studies me.

  “No, Avery. No sex rehab. I’ll just continue to keep seeing Paul a few times a week—when my schedule allows, that is. After next month, when the season ends, I’ll be able to start seeing him more regularly. He thinks, once that happens, my progress will really start to shine through.”

  I blow out a breath. “Well, I’m happy for you, Miles. It must be a relief to finally be getting the help you need.”

  He nods. “It is. And Paul has helped me see so many things in a different light. He’s helped me see what a mistake I made by letting you go.”

  My eyes widen, a humorless chuckle leaving my lips at his words. “Letting me go? You didn’t let me go, Miles. You drove me away.”

  Shame fills his expression, his eyes falling down to the table between us. “I know, Avie—Avery,” he quickly corrects when he sees the death glare I give him. “I know I made a lot of mistakes. I hurt you in the worst way possible.”

  I wave him off. “You hurt me, yes. But it turned out to be for the best. For both of us. Now, you’re getting the help you need, and I’ve found a man who loves me the way I truly deserve to be loved.”

  Miles winces at my words. “You mean, Hughes, right?” His tone holds so much disgust as he says Carter’s last name; I can’t help but see red.

  “Yes. Carter Hughes. A man who will always be twice the man you could ever hope to be.”

  Miles rolls his eyes. “Oh, please, Avie. He’s a loser, and you know it. You just needed someone to help you get back at me for what I had done. And, since Hughes has been in love with you since before he could even get it up, he was only too willing to jump in your bed.”

  This time, I shove back from the table so hard, my chair clatters to the floor behind me. I don’t stop to right it though, instead storming straight for the door as fast as these stupid heels will carry me.

  I knew it was a mistake to come here tonight, but a small part of me held on to hope that Miles was sincere in his request for closure.

  I should’ve known better though, I think for the second time tonight.

  Miles is nothing if not a good con man.

  He managed to con me for three years.

  But I won’t sit here and listen to him bad-mouth Carter for another moment.

  I’m almost to the door when Miles’s hand clasps around my arm, whirling me around to face him.

  “Avie, I—”

  “Stop!” I scream, not caring a bit that we’re making a scene in the middle of the crowded restaurant. If that’s what it takes to get him to leave me alone, I have no problem with enlisting the help of all these strangers.

  He backs off, knowing, now that the attention has been brought to him, it’s going to be impossible for his picture to stay out of the headlines. He might not play for Seattle, but surely, there’s a baseball fan here who will recognize one of the best rookies in the league right now.

  “Avery, please,” he says, his voice more level as he pins me with his stare. “I’m sorry.”

  I spin back around, pushing open the door and taking my first step out into the cool evening air. It’s mid-September, and though the days can still get rather warm, the nights have already taken on a definitive fall feeling, the crisp breeze refreshing after the stifling air of the restaurant.

  I breathe in deep, feeling like I’m getting my first full lungful of air since my conversation with Miles began. My reprieve is short-lived however, Miles’s voice and hurried steps soon coming up behind me.

  He grabs my arm again before I can escape his grip, his hard fingers digging into my flesh as he spins me back around to face him. “Damn it, Avery, stop running away from me. I’m sorry, okay? I’m so sorry I hurt you. But I promise you, I’m getting help. Nothing like that will ever happen again. Just, come home, baby. I miss you.”

  I struggle against his grip, hating that his large size and unshakable strength have me at such a disadvantage. When he refuses to release his hold, I turn to the only other defense I can think of.

  “I’ll never come back to you, Miles. Never,” I spit. “I’ve found someone who loves me more than that tiny, shriveled heart of yours is even capable of. And I love him more than I ever loved you. He’s everything you’re not, and you could never, ever compare.”

  Miles shakes his head. “You don’t mean that. You’re just hurt—”

  His fingers loosen their grip just the tiniest bit as he tries to think of a way to explain away my words. I don’t waste the opportunity. While his eyes are downcast, I jerk my arm out of his grasp, turning and running like hell.

  I’ve only made it three steps when the heel of my left shoe gives way under my foot, my leg buckling as I struggle not to go down. Someone grabs on to me from behind, steadying me on my feet as I regain my balance.

  “Thank you—” I break off as I turn around, only to see Miles holding me once more.

  “We’re not done, Avery. Not by a long shot.”

  And, before I can protest, before I can get even a word out, Miles yanks me against him and crashes his lips against mine.

  Chapter 25

  Carter

  “Thanks, man,” I say, closing the door to the back seat of the car. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  “No problem. Let us know if you guys need anything. But be a pal and give me a couple of hours first. I haven’t seen Liv in a few days, and I might get a little ragey
if you interrupt our reunion, if you know what I mean,” Brandon says, waggling his eyebrows at me.

  “I’m sure I’ll be able to manage without you. Go and get your freak on.”

  “Yeah, buddy!” he shouts, pounding the steering wheel once before popping the car back into drive and pulling away from the curb.

  I shake my head, a smile on my face as I turn and head into my building.

  He’s a pain in the ass, but Brandon Jeffers is definitely someone you want to have in your corner.

  All day long, I’ve had a strange feeling in the pit of my stomach. I hated having to leave Avery sleeping in our bed this morning, not even so much as a good-bye between us before I left for the airport. Add to it the fact that our flight was delayed several hours due to some bullshit excuse with the engine, and by the time we landed, I was on edge from not having spoken to her at all today.

  I wanted to call her, just to hear her voice and have her tell me everything was okay. I had no reason to believe it wasn’t other than this niggling feeling in the back of my mind that something wasn’t right.

  Unfortunately, Coach ushered us all onto an awaiting bus that took us straight to the field for practice. And there was no way I was going to talk to Avery about the way I was feeling in front of my entire team. So, instead, I sulked in the back, my duffel pulled up close to my chest as I stared out the window at the Colorado countryside.

  I didn’t want company when Jeffers sidled up beside me, his cheery attitude too much for me when I was feeling like shit. But the perceptive asshole was able to tell something was wrong, and the next thing I knew, he cleared it with Coach for the two of us to take off immediately after the game. I hadn’t even told him it was something about Avery bothering me. And, when I asked how he’d known, he just shrugged.

  “Guys like us only get our panties in a bunch for two reasons. Baseball and love. I know baseball isn’t your problem, so that only leaves one possibility.”

  I wanted to give him shit for being so in tune with my feelings, but I couldn’t bring myself to feel anything but grateful.

 

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