The Sweet Talker (Boston Hawks Hockey #1) - Gina Azzi Page 0,60
I close the door and lock it. My shoulders shake with the intensity of emotions I’m holding in. My stomach coils too tightly, my chest heaves with silent sobs, and a wave of nausea rolls through me.
Oh God. The first tears fall over and I drop to my knees, letting them wash through me.
I knew better than to fall for a hockey player. I knew better than to let Noah Scotch in. I went and did it anyway. And now, I’m left to pick up the pieces all over again.
24
Noah
“Three weeks, man,” my brother says through the line. He sounds good, centered.
“Yeah. Bet you’re ready to be home.”
“Ready to sleep in my own bed.”
I chuckle but it’s forced.
“What’s going on, Noah?” Easton asks.
I sigh, reclining in the chair in my hotel room. Blowing out a breath, I glance out the windows, overlooking downtown Nashville. We have a game tonight and instead of focusing on that, instead of thinking about gelling with Sims and protecting our record, I’m twisted up over Indy.
Three nights ago, I let her go for good. She was furious with me. Hurt. And as much as I try, I can’t stop the look on her face before she closed her apartment door from haunting me.
I swallow past the lump in my throat. I miss her.
“Noah?”
“Indy and I broke up.”
“Broke up? I thought you weren’t really dating.”
I chew the corner of my mouth, not knowing what the hell to say. East is right. We weren’t really dating.
But he’s also wrong. Because I was falling in love with Indiana Merrick. I just didn’t want to admit it to her.
My brother snickers.
“What?” I snap. An image of Indy flickers to mind. Her anguished expression, fighting back tears. The exhaustion that clung to her eyes. I hurt her, cut her deep, and I feel like complete shit about it.
But I feel even worse knowing that she’s never going to be mine. She never was and now, there’s no hope for a future with her. I fucking sabotaged that.
“What happened?” Easton asks, his tone softer.
“I was supposed to take her to The Ivy on Saturday.”
“That sounds pretty serious. What went wrong?”
“I passed the reservation off to her and some guy who was making fucking heart eyes at her over Thanksgiving dinner.”
Silence. For three breaths, I’ve stunned my brother into total silence. Then, he cracks up and I swear.
“Wait a minute, you really did that? You tried to set Indy, the girl you’re fucking losing it over, up on a date?” East summarizes, howling.
“It’s not funny,” I retort lamely. I can’t even bother to inject my tone with anger because he’s right to laugh at me. I’m a laughingstock right now. A dumb one.
“You’re right, you’re right. It’s not.” Easton clears his throat before his laughter erupts again. “It’s fucking hilarious! What is wrong with you, Noah?”
“I don’t know,” I answer honestly. What the hell is wrong with me? Indy and I made a deal, sure, but part of the deal included my taking her around modern Boston. The city side with delicious food and craft cocktails. Cool art exhibits and downtown shopping. Instead, I bailed on that too and tried to set her up. With a guy who makes her smile, who puts her at ease, who made her eyes light up when she saw him. A man her dad calls “son” and her mom fawns over.
A man she deserves. One who has a stable career, will be living permanently in the city, and won’t spend nights at a time in other parts of the country, having random girls slip their numbers in his pockets.
“Noah,” Easton’s voice pulls me back to the conversation.
I grunt.
“What happened after Thanksgiving?”
“We’re done.” I sound as bitter as I feel. “I grabbed a pizza and stopped by her place.”
“And?”
“And she pretty much said it was fun while it lasted and to have a nice life.”
East whistles. “Shit. You really pissed her off, man.”
“I hurt her.”
Easton swears. “That’s even worse.”
Hanging my head, I pinch the insides of my eyes. “I know. I messaged her a few times since and…”
“She’s ghosting you.”
“Pretty much.”
“Wow. Who knew Little Indy would hold such a grudge.”
Even though Easton is trying to cheer me up, it still pisses me off that he’d say something—anything—negative about Indy. “I deserve it.”
“Of course you do. You played this whole thing wrong.”
I roll my eyes, shifting my weight in my chair. “Yeah? What the hell would you have done differently?”