The Game Plan (Game On, #3)(80)

“Ethan didn’t do this.”

Her body tenses. “I know. But it’s out there now, and we have to think of damage control.”

That squirming feeling goes through my insides again. “The damage is done, Ivy.”

She gives me a light kiss on my shoulder. “Get some sleep. We’re here for you.”

The idea gives me little comfort. For the first time in my life, I feel truly helpless.





Chapter Thirty-Eight





Dex



Has a flight ever been so f*cking 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 rolling so hard I have to 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 take downs. The pictures are out, and the Internet is forever.

The world has seen Fiona exposed. I f*cking 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 of me. And it’s all I can do not to start screaming or f*cking crying. Because it’s my fault. All my fault.

The taxi drive is even worse. The motherf*cker recognizes me.

“Hey, man! You’re Ethan Dexter!”

Like I don’t know my own f*cking 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 f*ck 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,” I snap.

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 f*cking 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 f*ck 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 f*cked 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 f*ck do you think you’re going?” Sean snaps.

“Where I’m needed most.” I don’t look back. “You can bawl me out later.”





Chapter Thirty-Nine





Fi



The bedroom is dim and cool, the covers heavy and warm. I love this bed. It’s big, the mattress firm yet plush on top, the bedding soft and brilliant white. Ethan’s bed. Our bed. But it smells of him, spice and warm.

I hug a pillow close and sigh. But the snick of the door opening has me tense. Light angles across the bed then fades as the door gently shuts. I hug the pillow closer, trying to keep it together as Ethan walks in. I don’t have to see him to know. He’s in my blood now. I’m as aware of him as my own breathing.