Page 6 of Before You (Reckless Love #2)

CHAPTER THREE

JJ

SHE’S HERE.

Marley is at Beaumont, but she’s with Trent.

I look at where Trent is sitting, drinking his beer without a care in the world.

It takes everything in me not to punch him in the face.

He’s cheating on her—multiple times as far as I know.

The football team arrived two weeks ago, and in that time, I’ve seen him with at least three different girls.

I didn’t think anything of it until Asher told me he had a girlfriend. My plan was to let the girl know he’s cheating on her, but I didn’t realize it would be Marley.

My Marley.

There was a part of me afraid I had put her on this pedestal she’d never be able to live up to if I did find her, but it couldn’t have been further from the truth today. She’s everything I remembered, and more.

My hands ball into fists in my lap, because I don’t know what to do. Obviously, I know I should tell Marley. I almost did tell her when she asked if we could be friends, but I’m worried it’s going to seem like I’m only doing it so she’ll be with me.

I’m damned if I do, and damned if I don’t.

Fuck, I need to get out of here.

I get up from the couch, making my way to my room without saying anything. What the hell would I say? Sorry you’re a piece of shit, Trent? Well, I know what I’m not apologizing for—I’m not sorry for being in love with her.

I grab my prescription, popping a pill quickly to swallow it dry. My plan is to run as long as it takes for me to decide what the right thing to do is. My knee is still sore from practice, despite the fact I took my meds beforehand.

Slipping into my running shoes, I grab my headphones before jogging down the stairs.

“Didn’t run enough at practice, Walker?” Luka asks, as I pass by the living room. His eyebrows are raised, looking at me like I’m insane for going running after the grueling practice we had in the heat earlier, where I did nothing but run routes the entire time.

“Guess not.” I shrug, walking out without sparing a look at Trent.

I put my headphones in and turn my music up as loud as it will go before taking off down the street, losing myself to the music pulsing in my head, and the feeling of my feet striking the pavement.

~

I feel like a creeper, sitting in the café, watching this girl across the street.

She’s been looking around for the last ten minutes, even spinning around a few times, but I can’t tell if she’s lost. What I do notice, even from a distance, is she’s cute.

Fuck it. I’m going to help her.

I walk up rather easily as she stares at her phone, her eyebrows scrunched in confusion while trying to decipher whatever’s on her screen.

“Excuse me, are you lost?” I ask in French, trying to come across as non-threatening as possible. It’s a little hard to do when I tower over most people at six four, and I’m built like a tank from training for football.

Her head snaps up, and I’m instantly ensnared by the color of her eyes. I don’t think I’ve ever seen eyes this shade of blue before. Her nose is petite, her lips full, but it’s her eyes that are truly captivating.

Cute is the wrong word to describe her. She’s beautiful.

A flush of red crawls up her neck, and she laughs. “I think so? My mom’s friend gave me the address to this artist’s house, but I can’t find the street. I must have gotten turned around somewhere,” she stammers, and I wrack my brain trying to think of anyone in town she might be talking about.

“Are you talking about Madame Bellefleur?” I ask and she smiles brightly.

My.

Lungs.

Stop.

Breathing.

“Yes! Do you know her?” she asks, and I wish I could respond, but my brain isn’t functioning. I think she might be the most beautiful girl I’ve ever met. Her eyes narrow, her smile fading as I gawk at her, deciding I’ll do anything to earn another smile from her. “Hello?”

Fucking snap out of it, JJ. This isn’t the first time you’ve talked to a girl.

I recover, flashing an apologetic smile. “Sorry, yes. I do know her. She’s friends with my mom.”

“Would you be able to point me in the right direction?” she asks, skepticism crystal clear on her face after I malfunctioned.

No. Wait—she can’t leave yet. I don’t know anything about her, and my gut is telling me I have to know more.

“I’ll do you one better. I can take you there myself.”

I have nothing better to do today anyway. Mom is out taking pictures in the mountains with Bailey, and Dad is with Hunter and Mirabelle on a run. I came into town out of pure boredom.

“No, it’s okay. I really only need help finding the way,” she says, and I take a step back in case I’m overwhelming her.

“It’s really not a problem, but I understand. If you go down there”—I point toward the street to my right—“and then take a left at the flower shop, it’s two doors down. The house covered with ivy.”

Her shoulders relax, and I feel bad for making her feel uncomfortable. “Thank you, I really appreciate it.”

Every fiber of my being is screaming at me to stay where I am, to stay by her, but I shove it down to walk away from her.

I don’t even know her name.

“Wait!” she calls out after me, and I instantly turn to face her. “If you don’t mind, maybe a guide would be better than instructions?” she asks, and I’m surprised, but I’m not going to blow this.

I can’t help smiling. “On one condition.”

“You’re going to make a condition after you already offered to take me?”

“I guess I am,” I say, laughing quietly. I like her.

“What’s your condition?” she asks, crossing her arms, and I walk up to her.

“Your name.”

“Marley . . .” She hesitates again. What has her so nervous she won’t tell me her name? “Just Marley.”

Okay. I can play this game too. I offer her my hand to shake. “I’m JJ. Just JJ,” I say, winking at her, praying to God she’ll smile again.

She does.

~

I shake my head.

It makes sense now why she didn’t tell me her full name. I’ve replayed the moment we met in my head hundreds of times, wondering why I didn’t press harder for her last name. I guess I was just satisfied with the fact she asked me to stay.

Marley’s a Benson .

I don’t care, though.

It’s easy for me to say, because I know my future will always be comfortable, regardless of whether I’m drafted after college. Don’t get me wrong, my family has more than enough money, but the Benson’s are in a whole different tax bracket.

The money means nothing to me.

I only want her.

Seeing Marley today was more than I could have ever hoped for.

The only thing I would change is the word friend coming from her mouth. I absolutely hated it, but not as much as I hated seeing her look at Trent with her incredible smile. I don’t know how to be just her friend, nor do I really want to. I’ve finally met the person I’m incapable of saying no to.

I simply cannot fathom a world where I’m not the one Marley is smiling at.

So I run.

~

The pain in my knee finally outweighs the pain in my chest as I stagger to a stop in the driveway.

Practice is going to be hell tomorrow morning.

My breathing is ragged, and my knee aches with every step I take, telling me I made a mistake not wearing my brace as I limp to the front door.

Trent’s car is gone, and I’m praying Asher and Luka went with him.

I’m not in the mood to talk to anyone right now.

Unfortunately, Asher is sitting in the living room, watching something on the television I could give two shits about. He does a double take after spotting me, immediately shaking his head.

“You’re an idiot. You shouldn’t have left without your brace on,” he says, and I’m aware he’s right. I forgot, and now I’m paying for it.

“I’m fine,” I say, doing my best to walk normally to the stairs, so he can’t see I’m hurting more than I’m letting on. Shit, and this is with pills in my system too. I’m afraid of what it’ll feel like tomorrow.

“Can you even fucking walk? JJ, we have five a.m. weights tomorrow.”

My knee barks in pain as I climb the stairs. “I know, Asher. Leave me alone.”

I’m halfway up the steps, thinking he’ll let it go, and things will return to normal tomorrow. Except Asher doesn’t.

“It’s her, isn’t it? Marley is the girl you’ve been pining over.”

My lack of response says everything.

Asher gawks at me from the bottom of the stairs. “She’s our quarterback’s girlfriend—you need to get over her. Maybe find a different way than running your knee into the ground, or you can kiss any shot at a pro career goodbye, regardless of who your father is and your last name.”

I can’t say anything to defend myself. What I did tonight was reckless and stupid.

I shower quickly before my knee has a chance to give out, pulling ice packs out of the mini fridge in my room. There’s only one person who will understand how I feel right now.

Mirabelle answers after the line rings a couple times. “JJ? Is it Bailey?” she asks, her voice filled with panic.

Fuck, it’s seven here, which means it’s four in the morning in France.

I drag my hand over my face, swearing under my breath. “No, it’s not Bailey. Fuck—I’m sorry, Mira. I forgot about the time difference.”

“Hey, no, it’s okay,” she says, exhaling.

“. . . Everything okay?” Henry asks in the background, but Mirabelle whispers her response too quietly for me to hear.

An ugly feeling forms in my chest, and I hate being jealous of them. This might be a new low for me, especially when they deserve all the happiness in the world after everything they’ve been through.

“It’s not okay. I’ll call you in the morning—my morning. I’m sorry,” I apologize, gritting my teeth as my knee throbs.

“No, it’s fine. I’m awake, so tell me what’s going on,” she insists, and I feel my resolve start to crumble.

“How did you know Henry was the one for you?”

If she’s confused why I’m asking, Mirabelle doesn’t let it show as her answer is almost immediate. “Because he makes everything better. He’s the one I’ve always pictured by my side. There was never another option for me.”