Page 6 of Rushing Her: Seattle, Westerners (Gridiron Warriors #2)

Alexandra

I was nearly asleep, with Brayden wrapped around me, and achy in places I never thought I would be. It was the best sexual experience of my life, but now I’m wide awake. His words stopped my heart.

I can’t be here. I’m not allowed to see him again. I realize Coach apologized, said he was wrong, but I made a promise. I won’t jeopardize either of our careers for this. Even if he regrets it. I don’t back down from my word.

I wait until I feel Brayden’s arms relax, and I’m sure he’s asleep, before scooting away from his body.

His declaration echoes in my mind as I slowly stand and turn to watch him sleep for a little while more.

The sheet is folded at his waist, and I’m momentarily torn.

Did Coach mean I could forget the promise? Can I stay with Bray now?

I can’t. I won’t do that.

Instead, I stuff the emotions back into that box they’ve been locked in since walking away the first time, then go in search of my stuff.

I find my panties torn and throw them away.

My bra, I clasp in my hands, but my dress's zipper is ripped, so I look around the room, and that’s when I come across his dress shirt.

I slip it on and button it up with the few remaining buttons left, then make my way toward the door.

My clutch lies discarded on the floor, and I reach for it as Brayden moans my name from the bed.

I hold still, sure that he’s awake, but then he softly snores.

Tears build, and I rush from the room, closing the door as quietly as I can.

By the time I make it to my hotel room, my nerves are shot.

Gut-wrenching sobs burst from my throat, and I rush to the shower to erase his smell from my body.

When I accomplish that, I throw my hair into a messy updo and ensure all my bags are packed.

I’ve ordered a car service to pick me up after I finish making a dreaded phone call, but I need her.

“Alex.” The sweetest soft voice passes through the line.

“I need you,” I cry into the phone as tears roll down my face. “Please.”

“I’ll meet you there.”

B y the time the town car pulls up to the PB however, a couple of years later, she and I talked about the breakup, and that was when she learned how destroyed I still was.

Sure, she doesn’t realize I did this to myself, but I need her reassurance that I’ll be okay because, right now, I don’t feel it.

Walking through the glass doors, it feels like stepping back in time.

The diner has looked like this since well before I was born.

It’s a retro 50s-themed style that specializes in donuts and milkshakes, any way you can imagine them.

Our regular waitress is even here; it’s as if she never takes time off.

Betty nods toward our usual table, and I head on over.

Earlier, I changed into ankle-length, tight black jeans, a white tank top, and a brown leather jacket, choosing tennis shoes instead of heels so that I could make a quick getaway if necessary.

Facing Brayden is not in the cards right now.

It may be cowardly, but we can’t be together, or I’ll ruin both of us.

I’m a chickenshit who would rather run than have a conversation.

Sitting in the empty diner that my sister and I have frequented since I was a teenager and could drive, we fell in love with it and made this our spot.

I remember coming here after breaking it off with Brayden all those years ago.

She didn’t understand then, and because of the promise, she still won’t.

Sleeping with him again was a mistake. All it did was complicate everything, but I just need someone there for me, to know someone is on my side.

She’ll help make me feel whole, help put me back together a little at a time. Just like before.

I blink repeatedly to stem the tears as I watch T.K.

carry my sister to the entrance. He can be a little over the top, but a part of my heart wishes I had that, too.

He doesn’t put her down, and from her lips moving as fast as they are, I can just imagine what she’s saying, and I’m right as soon as the door opens.

“Put me down right now. I have two legs and can walk.”

T.K. has her dress folded over so no one sees more than they should. Even this early in the morning, she’s in a cute skirt and shirt combo. He walks her over to me, and I stand up to hug her. She’s so petite next to me.

She shoos T.K. away, but he only takes a single step away from her. See, over the top.

“Don’t make me take you out of here kicking and screaming.” His voice is gruff but also soft as he talks to her.

Moving nearer to her again, he leans down to whisper something in her ear, making her blush. I turn away and staunch my emotions. I want this, as well. He’s probably calling her sweet names, and it reminds me that Brayden, and only Brayden, calls me Lexi.

When T.K. moves a couple of tables over and sits down to order water, I pull my sister into my body. I need the comfort she offers me, and it takes a great deal not to cry. We sit down, but I can’t look her in the eye.

“Thank you.”

I look around the diner, trying to avoid the questions I see in my sister’s eyes.

Betty makes her way toward us, looking like she’s stuck in the wrong era.

Her makeup consists of bright pink and blue hues; her hair is teased and sprayed as if she just walked out of the 80s.

Hairstyles like this are why the ozone layer is deteriorating.

There’s probably a whole can of Aqua Net hairspray in it.

She’s even dressed in neon colors with leg warmers.

At first, we thought it was a costume, but Brea and I once saw her elsewhere, and she was still dressed as if she’d stepped out of the Back to the Future DeLorean into our current day lives.

“The usual, girls?”

Brea shifts her head back and forth as she contemplates her regular order. She’s pinched her lips, and her blue eyes scan over the menu. Pregnancy cravings must be wreaking havoc with her.

“Get your usual. You talked about it in the car the whole way here,” T.K. gripes from his seat.

“Yes, for me,” I say as I look up at Betty. “Can I have a cup of Earl Grey tea before that?” I need the boost of caffeine; I already feel so cold.

“I guess I’ll do that.” Brea finally decides. As soon as Betty walks away with our menus, knowing we don’t need them, she reaches across the table and takes my hands in hers. “What’s going on, Alex? You were crying on the phone.”

I shift in the booth seat, and my eyes bounce around, not wanting to tell her any part of it, even the ones I can, but I need someone to vent to.

My silence stretches, and Brea poses another question. “How did the retirement party go? T.K. and I decided to stay in.”

“Good.” That’s all I can say.

“Did you see him?” She doesn’t have to say his name.

I look at her and lose the battle with my emotions. I start shaking, and tears roll down my face.

“You should have seen him. He was dressed all in black. So, freaking sexy. He was seated right next to me. Every time I’d reach for something?—.”

“Oh my god, you slept with him,” Brea exclaims loudly in the quiet space.

“Yuck,” T.K. grumbles. “No details, please.”

I’ve known T.K. for a very long time, and the fact that he trusted me when I first became an agent still shocks me.

He had someone else before me who was doing him no good, and he came to see me.

I explained that I was new, but I would work hard to give him the best representation.

Through our relationship, we’ve both made a lot of money, which has helped advance my career.

Getting my sister the job with the Settlers as their social media manager was a great idea until T.K.

fell for her, but I still don’t regret it.

They are both happily married and expecting a child.

“Silence over there,” Brea orders him, and he sits up like he’s about to come toward us. “Please,” she says, and he settles back in.

I can’t deny my sister’s question. I want to, but I can’t.

“Oh my god, you really did. Are you getting back together? How did he apologize? Did you?” The questions come quickfire.

“We can’t, and we didn’t even really talk.” Fumbling for words, I search for an explanation as Betty walks over with my tea and sets it down.

We were here just the other day, and things were so different.

I was nervous about seeing Brayden then; now I’m broken, and I wish I’d never gone to that dinner.

But then, I wouldn’t have had him again, even for just that short time.

I want to regret it, though I probably wouldn't, if not for my shattered heart.

“We can’t get back together. Never,” I reiterate.

Betty returns before I take the first sip.

She sets Brea’s order in front of her, a loaded cookies and cream milkshake with a sour cream donut on the rim.

Mine is next: a boysenberry milkshake with chocolate chips mixed in and an old-fashioned blueberry donut on the rim as well. It’s their signature touch.

Both of us look at our orders, and something inside me settles. I needed this—this small bit of normal in my life of chaos.