Total pages in book: 86
Estimated words: 83059 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 415(@200wpm)___ 332(@250wpm)___ 277(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 83059 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 415(@200wpm)___ 332(@250wpm)___ 277(@300wpm)
“Fuck yeah!” I cheer. Anything can happen, I know that, but with less than a minute on the play clock, we’re up by eleven points. The Rampage is taking home the win.
“Load up!” Coach Warner bellows.
Since we’re so close to home, we’re driving back on the buses tonight. We played the early one o’clock game, so it makes sense. Besides, we’re all ready to be home. I know I am. Slinging my bag over my shoulder, I search for Rowan. I don’t see her in the masses. Something in my gut tells me that’s not right. I scan, looking for Chaz, and I don’t see him either. I’m getting ready to step onto the bus, but I whirl around and stalk back toward the locker room.
“Reynolds!” Coach booms. “Get your ass back here.”
I don’t reply. Instead, I choose to ignore him, drop my bag, and begin to jog back to the stadium. My gut churns with anxiety. There’s a lot of us—between the team, the coaching staff, the trainers, and so on—but I can always find her in the crowd. Always.
Pushing through the doors, I race down the hall toward the locker room. The halls are eerily empty, and that only amps up my anxiety even more. When I reach the locker room door, I tug it open and begin to scan the area. It’s not until I hear a faint whimper that I rush to the showers.
What I find has anger and fear boiling in my veins. Chaz has Rowan on the floor, his hand fisted roughly in her hair, with his pants around his ankles, trying to force her to—I can’t even think of the words.
“Let her go!” I call out to him. I race into the showers and make eye contact with Rowan. Her eyes are red-rimmed from crying, her hair is disheveled, and so are her clothes. It’s the look in her eyes, the fear that I feel in my chest reflected at me in those baby blues. It takes everything I have in me not to go to her.
“Get the fuck out of here!” Chaz seethes.
“Let her go, Chaz.” I take another step toward them. I can’t rush him for fear of her getting hurt. I just need him to let go of her, and then his ass is mine. I’m displaying strength I didn’t know I had. Watching her on the floor, as he treats her like a rag doll, kills me. My hands fist at my sides, my fingernails dig into my palms. I keep reminding myself that I can’t go off half-cocked and attack him, because she could get hurt, even more hurt than she already is in the process. I take a deep breath to try to calm the raging storm that’s churning inside me.
“You stole her from me. She’s mine!” Spittle flies out of his mouth, and he looks deranged.
“She’s not a possession,” I tell him. I’m trying like hell to keep my voice steady, to keep her calm with my tone, but it’s one of the hardest fucking things I’ve ever had to do. “She left you because you hurt her. You put her in the hospital. You took advantage of her, isolated her, and she found the courage to leave you.” With each word I speak, he grows more agitated. “Let her go.” My voice is hard. My eyes scan to Rowan. She’s crying and from the look on her face, his grip on her hair is painful. Fuck, I need him to let her go. Then it’ll just be us. Man to man.
He yanks on her hair, harder this time, and Rowan whimpers.
“Shut the fuck up. Both of you!” he roars.
“Rowan, baby, just breathe,” I tell her, forcing my voice to be steady. I can see panic starting to set in. “I’m right here,” I tell her. I hope she understands that means I’m going to get her away from him. How? I’m not sure, but fuck, I’m going to save her from him. I don’t want to rush him and risk her getting hurt, but if that’s what it comes down to, then that’s what I’ll do.
“Don’t call her that!” Chaz yells.
The locker room door slams open and in walks Coach Warner, followed by Knox, Reid, Baker, and Foster. “What the hell is going on here?” Coach quickly assesses the situation. “Brown, let her go.” His voice is booming. Commanding.
“She’s mine. I had her first,” Chaz rants.
“I don’t give a flying fuck what you think. Take your hands off Ms. Mills. Now!” he thunders, his voice echoing throughout the shower room.
“He took her,” Chaz spits. He grins, and it’s not an “I’m happy” grin, it’s sinister, and scary as fuck considering he’s got his hands on my girl. “She was mine, and that fucker took her.”
“Okay, then let her go and settle this with me. Like a man. Don’t take this out on Rowan.” I’m pleading, and fuck me, I’m not above begging him if that’s what it takes.