Not My Romeo (The Game Changers #1)(96)

I’ve never seen her so . . . hard to read.

Empty. Void of that usual light in her aquamarine eyes.

You put that there.

You blew up and walked out on her.

You ignored her words.

She frowns. “Are you good to go out there?”

I give her a jerky nod. “I’ll be fine.” I stare down at my boots. “Helps when you’re out there with me. I don’t even think about the audience.”

“Well, at least I’m good for that. Meerkats work too.”

I close my eyes. And I don’t even know what I’m going to say, only that I don’t want her to leave. I want her to tell me she loves me again. I want her to . . . “Elena—”

“Five minutes until the curtain comes up!” Laura yells, sweeping her eyes over us. She lands on me. “You ready?”

Elena walks away from me, as if she was waiting for the right chance, heading to the other side of the stage, where she’ll enter.

I nod at Laura, my head spinning. I feel dizzy, and it has nothing to do with being nervous about speaking.

I’ll never see her again.

I breathe heavily, as if I’m about to throw a pass to win the game, and the coverage is insane, covered up, and I can’t find . . .

Dread, thick and dark, curls around me, wrapping around my chest.

Clarity settles around me, and maybe, maybe I knew from the moment she snapped back at me the other night without fully explaining, as if I should already know she didn’t need to defend her phone call, but I shoved it down, locked my feelings away in a box, wrapped a chain around them, and tossed them where I put everything that makes me feel too much. She . . . she’d protect me until the end. I recall how she dealt with those women at the bakery, her fierceness, and then I’m lost, remembering sweeping her up in my arms and running for the penthouse.

Where she never wanted to go.

Where she never felt at ease, yet she . . . went.

I’ve fucked up with Elena. I’ve . . . I’ve judged her by Sophia’s actions, when Elena isn’t that girl.

She’s never used me.

She’s never pushed me to tell her anything, except out of genuine concern. I’m the one who willingly opened up more than I ever have with anyone else, and hell, even then I’m always holding part of me back.

I let her go.

Pushed her far away, scared. Afraid of my life repeating old mistakes . . .

But Elena isn’t a mistake.

Even with my shoulder surgery looming, that gnawing worry about my future in the NFL, this month has been the happiest I’ve— God.

She’s the girl a man dreams of finding someday . . . everything I always wanted.

And I threw it back in her face.

I reacted without listening. I . . . fuck.

You lobbed another interception, Jack.

You lost the fucking game.





Chapter 33

ELENA

Dressed in a knight’s costume, Jack enters the masquerade party as Romeo and gazes at me with what Laura calls Romeo’s “Dang, she’s all I want, and I want my lips on hers” look. It’s pretend.

I’m stage right, makeup repaired, wings on, acting my ass off.

He moves toward me, a dark flush on his cheeks, his lines not quite as sure as they have been. He’s been floundering since the play started. I saw it right away, as soon as he said his first line. I watch him, encouragement in my gaze. Jack, Jack, Jack. You are so beautiful. Don’t let the people get to you is what I hope he sees on my face.

He presses his hand to mine. We kiss. Barely. Pull apart. Gaze at each other as the party continues stage center.

“Then have my lips the sin that they have took,” I say.

“Give me my sin again,” he murmurs.

I swallow. He’s jumped ahead a few lines, but I nod and kiss him again.

He slants his mouth across mine and sighs, his hand still on my face, our bodies closer than they should be.

“Elena.” It’s not loud, but it’s audible and clear. The cast keeps on, never looking at us. His eyes search mine as he opens his mouth, as if to say something, but it’s my line.

“You kiss by th’ book,” I say ardently—like the line calls for.

“Then I’ll take another.”

That is not the line. Nurse appears for her line, and Jack ignores her and kisses me again, his hands sliding into my hair. “Elena,” he whispers in my ear, and I pull back, eyes big.

The mic is hot, catching it, and the audience murmurs. If they missed it the last time, they definitely heard it this time.

Giselle says her line, and Jack is supposed to leave the scene—only he doesn’t. His eyes refuse to drop mine.

Giselle clears her throat, says her line again, and I come back.

One of the stage crew shrugs when I dart my eyes at him. He’s waiting for Romeo to leave, only Jack is still next to me.

There’s an awkward pause, until I flare my eyes backstage. Close the curtains!

The scene ends, the curtains falling at the end of act one.

I blow out a breath and dash stage right for a costume change. Jack follows me, and I whip around. The stage crew stares at us, but I barely notice.

“You can’t do that onstage,” I tell him. “They can hear you.” I refuse to think about how it made me feel, his mouth against mine, wanting me to really kiss him back.