BECKETT
I shouldn’t have let them drag her into this. But here we are—two feet apart, ten thousand miles away. And I can feel her hate humming off her like static.
She looks like she’d rather set herself on fire than stand next to me. And I get it. I’d hate me too. I do. But the second I step back, the whole f*****g thing collapses. So I stayed. I freeze. And that makes me worse. Because if I cared more, I’d walk. If I cared less, I’d smile. But here I am—still pretending like I know how to breathe around her.
I should’ve told Coach to shove it. Should’ve said no the second they floated her name. But I didn’t. Because I’m a coward when it counts. Because part of me liked the idea of being next to her again—even if it meant she’d never forgive me for it.
What an asshole, right?
Just t
