Trick Play (Fake Boyfriend Book 2)

“How does it feel having made the winning touchdown?”

I simply smile and stare at Noah while I say, “It was the second most fulfilling moment of my life.” Knowing the follow-up question will be what the first was, I answer before they ask it. “Nothing will beat the day I married my husband, but this is pretty close.”

“I’m up, I’m up. I’ll be down in five. Gotta go, babe. Love you.”

The phone disconnects, and my heart does that stuttering thing again and gets stuck on the words babe and love you.

Even though he’s already gone, I can’t stop myself from saying, “Love you too.”

“I’m up, I’m up. I’ll be down in five. Gotta go, babe. Love you.”

The phone disconnects, and my heart does that stuttering thing again and gets stuck on the words babe and love you.

Even though he’s already gone, I can’t stop myself from saying, “Love you too.”

All I can do is blink at him. This guy … he’s it. He’s the guy.

“All you had to do was ask me to stay.”

“All you had to do was not leave.”

The real reason I was up all night was because I was staring at my stupid phone.

I miss you. What kind of shit is that? What am I supposed to do with it? Message him the words I’ve been desperate to say to him since he left?

Come back.

Don’t leave me again.

I love you.

Fucking Matt. He’s messing with my head even though there’s eight hundred miles between us.

Now it’ll always remind me of the time the guy I loved begged me not to hurt him. Again, I find myself on the edge of asking him to stay—to choose me. All I have to do is say the words, and he’ll do it.

Now it’ll always remind me of the time the guy I loved begged me not to hurt him. Again, I find myself on the edge of asking him to stay—to choose me. All I have to do is say the words, and he’ll do it.

“We have until you go. And then public appearances. We won’t be together, but I want to keep seeing you.”

“Like a fuck buddy situation?”

God, I want to hold onto anything he’s willing to give me, but I don’t think my heart could take it. “Like a we’re always going to be friends type situation.”

“Friends.” He practically gags on the word, and I don’t blame him.

Realization cuts through my gut, and I want to vomit. “You’re moving to Chicago.”

His nod is subtle, but the slight movement is still enough to rip a hole in my fucking chest.

I force a small smile. “I think I’m supposed to say congratulations or whatever.”

“Unless …” He looks away. “Unless there’s a reason for me to stay here.” His voice goes up at the end, almost as if it’s a question, but at the same time it sounds like a statement.

Now’s the time to lay it out there. I want him to pick me. Love me. Make me his life instead of football. Then I recoil at the notion. I have no right asking anyone to choose me, even if I desperately want them to.