Page 15 of False Start: Chicago Engines (Gridiron Warriors #3)
Gia
Look at me discussing the weather with myself to avoid thinking about the proximity of my family.
I rolled my eyes at myself and tried to tune in to Dad showing off his football knowledge for Weston.
“I can’t say I particularly follow Chicago, but I was watching when you injured yourself last season. Good to see you back on the field this year, son. It’s important to pick yourself up and keep going.”
“Thank you, sir. Honestly, I’m just happy to be back playing with my team. You never know what life is going to throw at you.” He reached under the table and squeezed my thigh. “Sometimes the best things have nothing to do with sports.”
A clatter and the sound of claws on floorboards announced another arrival, and I braced myself for the coming unpleasantness.
“Sounds like Blair’s here,” Dad announced, like the party could finally begin.
In a riot of curls, towing a dark-haired man who was several inches shorter than Weston, my sister burst onto the back deck and destroyed any semblance of peace we’d had.
“Holy shit! Cian O’Leary!” Dad pushed out of his chair in a rush, his hand leading the way for a firm shake.
“What are you doing here? Duckie, you didn’t tell me you were bringing Cian O’Leary to the house. How’s the head, son? That was one hell of a knock you took last night.”
Weston and I were forgotten in the excitement of Blair’s arrival and some accident Cian had apparently been in recently.
As Dad fan-girled about Duckie’s date, Weston introduced himself to my sister.
When she reached across the table, it took everything in me to keep from knocking her hand away.
I didn’t want them to touch. I didn’t want her to take him from me.
He was mine. And not just because he was a well-known football player, but because he was Weston.
Except he wasn’t mine, was he?
What would they say if they knew our relationship was fake? I needed to do whatever it took to avoid finding out.
“How much did you have to pay him to come here?” I nodded toward Cian, in case she wasn’t sure who I meant. Weston shot me a curious look, but the more I thought about it, the better the idea became.
Deflect, redirect, stay safe.
If everyone was questioning the validity of Duckie’s relationship, they wouldn’t look too closely at mine.
“I didn’t.”
I snorted. Of course not. What was the saying?
The girl you brought home to meet the parents?
That was Blair. She was smart and successful.
Plain looking, but that just meant this guy liked her for who she is.
It also meant that she wouldn’t be worrying about Botox and fillers in a few years like I would have to. Like Mom already did.
“Oh! Hey, you play for the Engines, right?” she asked, drawing Weston’s attention again.
“Yeah, I do. I play tight end. Do you watch?”
“Whenever I can, the hockey season keeps me busy though.”
“That’s sport, isn’t it?” They shared a knowing smile and a part of me curled up and died. He liked her. Probably more than me. Everyone liked her more.
“Hey, Cian. Do you know why Blair is called Duckie? Tell him, Blair. It’s funny. It’s because she’s the ugly duckling. Get it?”
My stomach burned at the look Weston gave me, but whatever.
I wasn’t saying anything people didn’t already know.
I suddenly wanted nothing more than to crawl into a corner somewhere and cry.
Weston and I had been fake dating for months, and even though I knew I wasn’t good enough for him, there was a small part that was desperate for him to want me.
Not just for sex when we blurred the lines of our deal, but always. That just wasn’t in the cards for me.
Instead, I chose carbs. A large scoop of potatoes from the bowl in the center of the table hit my plate with a loud plop. Mom clicked her tongue.
“Do you really need that, Georgia? You won’t keep your job long if you stack on more weight.”
Why did she have to be right? My face warmed as I returned the majority of the serving to the bowl and picked at the salad leaves instead.
I hated it here.
The table fell into an uncomfortable silence as everyone ate until Mom heaved a dramatic sigh and dropped her cutlery.
“It really was nice of you to be here with Blair today, but I can’t in good conscience let you get her hopes up. If this is transactional, that’s fine, but if not… this is just cruel.”
“What… do you mean?” Cian asked.
“Well, all I’m saying is that if you expect us to believe that an athlete like you would be interested in someone like her, then clearly something else is going on. I don’t like deception and I’d hate to think you were using her.”
Holy shit.
I cast a quick look at Weston, terrified we’d be next on the list to be called out by my bitch of a mother, but her focus was solely on the hockey player.
Thank god.
“That’s enough. None of you appreciate this woman, and I’m not going to let her sit here and listen to you belittle her anymore.
” Cian’s words were sweet, and everything I wished someone would say to my parents on my behalf, but as he laid down the law and dragged Duckie out of the house, it occurred to me that no one ever would.
Mom pushed out of her chair, ready to chase them down, but Dad came to the rescue. Like always. The silence descended once more, heavy with the weight of things that couldn’t be changed. I caught Weston’s eye, ready to make our excuses, and found a profound sadness looking back at me.
“Thank you for dinner. We should really be going,” I said without breaking eye contact.
“Don’t be stupid. We haven’t had dessert yet,” Mom spat, smoothing her apron.
Dad said nothing, taking an intense interest in his hands as I stood and pushed my chair in neatly.
“I don’t think it’s a good idea for me to have dessert. I’d hate to sacrifice my figure for a piece of pie.”
Tears burned at the back of my eyes. Screw them all. I didn’t bother to see if Weston followed me out of the house, just stalked right on through, without even acknowledging the whine of query Bessie gave me as I stomped past.
It was time for me to grow up.
I’d relied on Weston too much recently and had gotten used to having someone in my corner, but he’d get bored with me sooner rather than later. Witnessing Cian and Blair together as a united front had broken something inside of me.
“Georgie,” Weston called, jogging down the front walk toward me. “Wait up. Are you okay?”
“I couldn’t stay there any longer. They’re just awful.”
A car rolled by slowly, the crunch of tires against gravel loud in the twilight. In the distance, crickets chirped as a cool breeze swept through the space between us.
“I think Cian had the right idea with the no contact thing,” he said, closing the distance to wrap his arms around me. I stepped out of reach before he could make contact.
“No, you don’t get it. That means I have to deal with them on my own. No distractions.” I paced away from him, trying to wrangle the runaway train of my catastrophic thoughts.
“I’m trapped. Duckie gets to live her perfect life with her perfect boyfriend while I get stuck here.”
“I wish you wouldn’t call her Duckie. It’s not like you to be so unkind.”
“It’s exactly like me. Don’t pretend you know me, Weston. Just because we pretended to date for a while and shared a few orgasms doesn’t mean you know anything about me.”
Why couldn’t I shut up? The words poured out of me like poison. My insecurity not just pushing him away, but using an old cannon to launch him into space to ensure maximum fallout.
“Georgia—”
“Don’t Georgia me. We said we’d come to a mutual decision when it was best to stop this fake relationship, and I think that time is now. Have a nice life, Weston. I hope I made a good story for you to tell someday when you want a real girlfriend again.”
I squared my shoulders and turned away, making it halfway to the neighbor’s driveway before I realized I’d made a significant tactical error.
Stalking back toward him, I pulled my phone out of my pocket and searched our return flight for the following day.
“We still need to fly home. I’m sure I can move my seat away from you when we change our flights.”
The airport had room on a flight two hours later, and I chose a seat in economy to ensure maximum separation from Weston and his beautiful life.
I needed to get used to my place again, anyway.