Page 44 of The Game Plan (Game On #3)
Dex
Has a flight ever been so fucking slow? By the time I land, I’m nearly out of my mind. Usually, I’m careful of my size, wary
of accidentally bumping into someone and sending them flying. Today I use it in my favor, shouldering my way past slow-moving
people.
My insides are roiling so hard I swallow several times to avoid being sick. It didn’t matter that I contacted my phone provider
and reported my phone stolen. The damage was already done. Because I’m the stupid, lazy ass who didn’t use password protection.
I’m the one who let some spiteful, desperate girl slip out of my room with my phone, and she sold the pictures on there to
the tabloids.
And it isn’t just pictures she sold, but text messages between Fi and me. Personal thoughts are now fodder for the world.
But those pictures. Fi, my girl, the person I care about most, displayed as if she’s nothing more than a thing.
It makes me so insane I can’t see straight. It doesn’t matter that I have lawyers on my side, threatening to sue, ordering takedowns. The pictures are out, and the internet is forever.
The world has seen Fiona exposed. I fucking hate that. I cannot stand the idea of guys looking at her that way. Not without
her permission, without her consent.
A snarling noise comes from deep inside me. And it’s all I can do not to start screaming or fucking crying. Because it’s my
fault. All my fault.
The taxi drive is even worse. The motherfucker recognizes me. “Hey, man! You’re Ethan Dexter!”
Like I don’t know my own fucking name. I ball my fists and push them hard into my thighs. Hard enough to stress the muscles
there.
Go. Just go. Get me to Fi.
“You really a virgin, man?” Clueless fuck who’s about to get pummeled chuckles. “Well, not anymore, eh? That’s some sweet
piece—”
“Say another word and you’ll lose your tongue.”
The cabbie blanches, his eyes bugging out. Hell. He might throw me out of the cab, and I’ll be stuck on the side of the fucking
highway while Fi suffers. I force myself to breathe.
“That’s my lady you’re talking about, all right?”
The cabbie nods, his gaze darting between me and the road in front of him. “Yeah, man. That’s cool. Uh... no disrespect
meant.”
I grind my teeth, trying to calm. “If you could just get me home as quickly as possible.”
“Sure, man. Sure. No problem.”
With that, my talkative cabbie speeds up.
I expected Ivy and Gray to be at my house; I gave Gray the passcode.
They’d been closer to Fi. Gray was playing a game in Atlanta, and Ivy had been visiting her dad with the baby.
What I did not expect, though I probably should have, was Fi and Ivy’s dad, Sean Mackenzie—my co-agent with Ivy—to be here.
Shit.
He does not look pleased.
Sean, or Big Mac, as a lot of us call him, used to play point in the NBA. Six foot seven if an inch, he’s long-limbed and
gaunt like some sort of modern-day Abe Lincoln. He also has a fierce glare that says he’ll gladly tear me a new one. At this
moment, I might not give a shit, but he’s Fi’s dad. If I have it my way, he’ll be in my life for as long as we’re alive, which
means I’d rather be on his good side.
He doesn’t wait for me to set my bag down before launching an attack. “What the fuck did you do, Dexter?” He takes a step
forward as if he might throw a punch.
Gray steps in too. “Easy there, Sean.”
Sean glares and swings his gaze back to me. “I asked you a question.”
“I fucked up.” And it guts me.
“No shit, Sherlock.”
My gaze slides past him to Ivy, who is pale and unusually quiet.
“Fi? She here? Is she...” Shit. I can’t get the words out. Regret is an agony crushing my chest.
She gives me a nod and gestures toward the stairs. “She’s sleeping.”
My bag hits the ground and I move.
“Where the fuck do you think you’re going?” Sean snaps.
“Where I’m needed most.” I don’t look back. “You can bawl me out later.”