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M ILES

Early mornings suck. Especially when it means leaving Rowan’s naked, warm body. I blindly reach to my right and find the bed empty and cold. Before I have time to mope, my second favorite morning scent fills the air.

Hazelnut coffee.

It was my favorite before I experienced Rowan’s sweet vanilla scent. And better yet—or at least equal to—the smell of her pussy on my face.

My eyes still closed, I smile as I picture Rowan naked—of course—in my kitchen making me coffee. Yeah. I could get used to this. If I have to get out of bed at the ass crack of dawn, there’s no better way.

The alarm on my phone rings from a distance. I don’t remember bringing it into the bedroom, but I had been distracted by Rowan’s naked body climbing me like a tree as I carried her to my bed. My lip quirks at the memory, and my dick twitches as well.

When the alarm doesn’t stop, I throw my legs over the side of the bed and zombie walk into the kitchen. I turn off the alarm and notice the coffee pot is full. Two empty mugs sit next to it, one tipped over. Empty, thankfully. I fill both cups, top hers with the creamer she likes, and venture through my apartment looking for her.

“Row?” The living room is empty. The blanket we cuddled under all day yesterday still strewn over the back of the couch.

I head down the hall to the guest bedroom. Not that I’d ever let her sleep away from me, but maybe she’s using that bathroom to not wake me. Although, she knew I had to get up at six.

“Rowan? Baby?” I duck my head into the ensuite bathroom and find it empty too. Not a trace of her anywhere.

When my sister was here yesterday, Rowan picked up her clothes from the kitchen floor and folded them, putting them on the end table. They’re gone now, as is her purse that was sitting on the counter all weekend. Maybe she went out to get us breakfast. She’s sweet like that, my Rowan.

I pick up my cell to call her and notice a bunch of unread messages. It’s the most recent two that stop my heart.

Elizabeth77: Have a good week.

Fuck. Fuckfuckfuck. “Fuck!” I shout. I open the Friends to Lovers app I haven’t logged into since Rowan and I became a thing.

The message right before is long. My breathing is labored as if I ran sprints up and down the football field as I read it.

Elizabeth77: Adam. I want to start by thanking you for being a good friend. You’ve listened to me dozens of times over the past few months and helped me sort out my mess of feelings. While I still have a long way to go before being comfortable with a man like I’ve been with you, you’ve given me confidence I never would have felt otherwise.

I trusted you with my innermost thoughts, and you never judged me. Thank you for that.

Thank you for keeping my thoughts, worries, and fears to yourself. Well, even if you had shared them, you don’t know who I am, and that was why I could be so open with you.

Thank you for listening when I felt I had no one else to turn to.

You know the man I mentioned a few weeks ago? Well, I’m seeing him now and things are going really well. It doesn’t feel right continuing our online relationship, so out of respect for him, I’m not going to contact you again. I just wanted to let you know that it’s not because you said or did anything wrong.

It’s the exact opposite. Like you, he gives me hope. Makes me feel seen.

Thank you, Adam. I hope you find someone who makes you as happy as I am now.

Take care.

Elizabeth

“Fucking Christ.” I chuck my phone then chase after it as it slides across the kitchen floor. Fumbling at the buttons, I call Rowan.

The line rings and rings and rings.

“Fuck.” I hang up and dial again. The third time, I leave a message. “Rowan. Baby. Please pick up. We need to talk. Don’t walk away from me. I—” Shit. I can’t tell her I love her for the first time on a voicemail and not when she hates my guts. “Please, Rowan. Call me back.”

I send her a dozen texts, all saying the same thing. Begging her to talk to me. Asking her to let me explain. Telling her how sorry I am. Reminding her how much I care about her.

I call one more time before jumping in the shower and it goes right to voicemail. It’s not surprising she shut off her phone. I’m a fucking asshole who lied to her for months and am now blowing up her phone.

Coach will have my ass if I miss practice, so race through my shower, throw on a pair of sweats and a hoodie, and rush out to my car. I try calling Rowan a few more times on my drive to the stadium. All go straight to voicemail.

I’ve never been late to practice before, but I’ve never been early either. Somehow, I manage to sneak into the team meeting just as Coach starts his spiel.

“Lemme guess...” Brock shakes his head with a laugh. “Some leggy blonde woke you up with your dick in her mouth and you didn’t have the heart to tell her you had to get to work.”

“Fuck off.”

Brock furrows his brows in confusion. “Dude. You alright?”

Shit. I’ve never snapped at my teammates before. Like, ever. I’m notorious for not giving a shit about anything enough to ever be upset. Part of my M.O.

“Not a morning person, remember?”

The guys know I love my sleep. Better to play my mood off on the sun not being fully up yet than to say anything about Rowan. Shit, I don’t even think her best friends know about us. If they did, Walker and Nash would have already been up my ass about not hurting her.

Fucking too late for that.

I do my best to stay focused on the meeting, then put my all into conditioning, not leaving any time for idle talk. Which doesn’t do much for covering my shit mood. I’m the king of wasting time, joking around, getting the team off task.

If I don’t want to be the center of attention, I need to, well, get back to being the center of attention.

I fall back as Dec sets his feet and gets ready to throw me a pass. I fuck up the play and run ten yards farther than I should have but twist it around on him.

“Losing your magic touch, baby Dec.” I throw the ball back to him. The spiral is a little shaky, but not too shabby.

“Wasn’t the play, Buck. Those magic hands gettin’ too old for the game?”

“Not from what your mother said last night.” I wiggle my fingers and flash my smile, hoping he can’t see the strain behind it. I fall back again, ready to catch whatever he throws at me.

If only it was that easy to catch Rowan.