Page 30 of Don't Say You're Sorry

Confused, I frown at his back as he walks toward the front door. “Do you want me to call him or not?”

Turning to look at me at the last second, he grins again. “Later, little brother.”

CHAPTER 11

EASTON

Easton

I need you.

“Goddammit, Miller!” Coach Daniels yells at me across the court. “Focus!”

I can’t focus on shit. I barely listened to a word my professors said during classes today, and now I’m dropping the ball at practice. Literally.

Coach demands we restart the drill, and I pick up the ball, passing it to Carter before scrubbing a hand through my sweaty hair.

Bryson West looks at me funny, and I look away, not wanting to see if my other teammates are catching on to the fact that I’m losing my shit. The mask I wear to protect myself is crumbling, and it’s allhisfault.

Adam’s fault.

Adam, Adam, Adam.

I can’t stop thinking about him.

He’s looking for a job. He’sbeenlooking for one for I don’t know how long. He’s serious about this, about moving back here,stayinghere, and he wants me to know it.

I’m itching to see him when I get home. I can’t get him out of my head. The stupid smile on his face when I walked into the kitchen this morning. The heat in his eyes when I taunted him and riled him up with nothing but a spoon. How unhinged he sounded when he said,“Kiss me,”and fuck if I almost did. I miss the way his lips used to feel on mine, soft and pliable. The way he’d submit to me and let me take whatever I wanted. He was perfect.

Until he wasn’t.

My heart kicks around in my chest, and I fumble the ball again, cringing as Coach throws his arms up in frustration, his face red and blotchy. The poor guy looks like he wants to choke me to death…

Adam used to love it when I’d choke him, rocking my dick in and out of his ass, his long fingers curling around my wrists as he begged me to let him come.

After he left, it didn’t take me long to realize I was never going to have that kind of explosive, all-consuming sex with another guy. I was never going to be able to replace him. I tried once with Bryson, but I chickened out as soon as his mouth wrapped around my dick. I couldn’t go through with it. I couldn’t?—

“Easton.” Carter shoves me, getting all up in my face. “Are you even listening to me?”

“No,” I confess, a manic laugh bubbling out of me. “Shit.”

Carter’s jaw tics, his eyes narrowing. Behind him, Nate looks amused for some reason, lowering his head as if he’s hiding a laugh. Nate never laughs, and Carter never gets angry. It’s usually the other way around. I scratch the back of my head as Iwonder what the fuck kind of alternate universe I’ve been tossed into.

“It’s him, isn’t it?” Carter asks, his gaze bouncing between my eyes. Then he laughs too, though it’s not nice. He tosses the ball at my gut a little harder than necessary. “Fucking unbelievable.”

I toss the ball back at him with a smile. He grunts, the ball rolling away from us as he steps into my space again. I shove his ass, and he comes right back, so I throw my arm around his neck and get him in a headlock.

“Miller! Westwood! Suicides!”

Carter and I freeze, our limbs tangled as we look over at Coach. Nate shakes his head at us and walks away with the ball. Carter hits my arm, and I let him go, falling in line beside him.

“I could beat your ass for this,” he says under his breath. I don’t think he’s talking about the suicides.

I smirk, lining up next to him at the baseline. “You could try.”

The whistle blows, and we sprint.

CHAPTER 12