Page 127 of Let You Love Me

An hour later, brunch is over and the dishes have been cleared from the table. I pass by the living room where my mother sits with Sophie in her lap, cuddling with a movie on. I round the sofa and press a kiss to the top of Sophie’s head, then tell my mother I’ll be back tonight but not to wait up since it’ll likely be late.

“You’re sure you’re okay with her?” I ask one last time. When she shoots me a glare, I hold my hands up and laugh. “Got it.”

I back away and head for the hallway when someone steps out of the shadows.

I practically jump out of my skin, and my hand flies to my chest where my heart bangs furiously against my ribs.

“What are you doing here?” I hiss as I open the closet door beside him and pull out a jacket. “Aren’t you supposed to be going over game tape with my father in his office?”

Chance shoves his hands in his pockets, staring at me a beat before he says, “He’s waiting on me.”

I slide on my coat, not in the mood for whatever this is, and try to push past him, but he steps in front me, blocking my path.

My eyes turn to laser beams, directed right at his face. If only I could eviscerate him with a glare. “You don’t listen well, do you? I told you not to come. I told you that if you showed today and didn’t leave me alone—”

“You were bluffing.” Chance shrugs, his cocky expression bordering on smug. “You and I both know that if you were going to tell your parents, you would’ve done so years ago.”

I hate that he’s right, absolutely loathe him for it.

“I have to go.” I dart to my right, but Chance follows. I try the left, but his arm stretches out, catching me.

I loosen a breath from deep in my lungs, frustration building inside of me like a geyser ready to erupt.

“What do you want, Chance?” I snap. “Is it just your goal in life to piss me off? Make things harder for me? Do you hate me that fucking much?”

Chance flinches, which only pisses me off more. As if my words could possibly hurt him. “Does your father know you’re fucking Nichols?”

I suck a breath between my teeth. “You’re an asshole.”

“Does he?”

My stomach sinks at the implication, though I guess I shouldn’t be surprised. First, he caught us together at Slice, then I showed up to the team bus to hand deliver a good luck charm. And then, there was Halloween. Even I can admit we look like a couple from the outside looking in, and that’s without our afternoons working together in the basement of Wyndham Hall on Teagan’s lunch break.

I force down the seed of fear sprouting in my chest and stare him in the eyes. “Not that it’s any of your damn business, but I’mnotsleeping with Teagan.”

His eyes brighten like the fact I’ve kept my legs closed is a revelation. His gaze slides over my body, a hunger in his eyes I recognize, and I want to punch him in the face, serve him a right hook to the jaw.

I hate that he knows what I look like under my clothes. And I absolutely hate that he’s the only one who does.

“So, you’re seeing him, but not sleeping with him?”

“I don’t see why you care. My love life is none of your business,” I snap.

His eyes narrow and my chest pinches. “You see, I think it is.”

I scoff. He’s even more of a dick than I thought he was.

“You and I have a history,” he says, taking a step closer.

“With a piss-poor ending.”

“See, that’s where you’re wrong. It’s not theend, Turner.”

I laugh, the sound incredulous even to my own ears.

My frustration mounts inside of me, a jockey ready to ride. “What the hell are you talking about?”

“I told you when we were kids, after I found out you were . . .” he waves his hand toward me, and I want to laugh because he still can’t utter the word pregnant. “I told you then I wasn’t ready.”