Page 114 of On the Breakaway

My stomach twists as his question lands.

“What the hell is wrong with you?”

His mouth curves. “So you didn’t fuck him?”

The slight hesitation that follows betrays me. I’m furious that he still knows exactly how to catch me off guard. I’m pissed off with myself for letting him pull me over here to begin with.

Damon’s laugh is low and cruel. “That’s what I thought.”

My throat tightens despite myself.

“You think you’re different now?” he asks. “You think this one’s going to end any differently?”

“I was never the problem.”

“I would’ve warned him myself, but unfortunately, I was a little busy wiping the floor with his team and didn’t see the picture until after our game.”

The confidence in his voice settles like ice in my stomach.

“But don’t worry. We might see them in the playoffs. By then, he’ll be sick of dealing with you anyway. I’m sure we’ll have plenty of time to compare notes.”

“Grayson isn’t interested in hearing your bullshit.”

“No?” Damon asks. “You’re probably right. It won’t take him a month. He’ll figure it out before then. That being a good lay doesn’t make you special.”

I blink quickly, trying to force the moisture in my eyes back before I start crying. But my mind is somewhere else, remembering how I sat alone after our breakup, wondering if he was right about me all along.

Too much.

Too difficult.

Too everything.

I remember wondering if I should’ve stayed.

I hate that those thoughts still exist somewhere inside me.

Damon studies my face and immediately finds the crack. His voice softens, somehow becoming even crueler.

“When he gets tired of you, maybe go take the Philly captain for a spin. Should keep you occupied for a few weeks.”

“You’re a miserable asshole.”

He shrugs. “Doesn’t mean I’m wrong.”

I want to believe he’s wrong. Grayson isn’t Damon. He never has been, but that almost makes it worse. Because if someone like Grayson eventually decides I’m not worth the effort, I don’t know if I’d have an excuse for it.

I force myself to fake a smile.

“Nice of you to come say hi. After all this time, you’re still just as much of a dick as I remember. At least you’re consistent.”

I step around him before he can respond, my face falling once he can’t see it.

This time, he doesn’t stop me.

But even as I walk away, his words follow me down the hallway, worming into places I don’t want them.

Damon doesn’t know anything about Grayson. But as much as I want to dismiss everything he said, one ugly thought keeps clawing its way back to the surface.