Everyone who works within the New York Warriors organization knows that star player August Fletcher refuses to talk to most people...and especially team reporters. All except Quinn Castle, that is.
Quinn doesn't know why the broody football player...
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"I'M GOING TO fucking kill him," August grunted for the millionth time. He'd been stewing and muttering threats of violence for the better part of an hour. "I'm going to kill them. All of them."
I sighed. Because while I was mad, I wasn't the kind of mad that he was. I felt sort of...resigned to my fate.
A part of me had known this would be the outcome–that by leaving the Warriors organization, I was giving up my life as a sports reporter. I'd known there would be consequences, and while I was far from happy about it, in a way, I'd come to accept it. At the very least, I'd prepared myself for it.
August's phone buzzed, and he tossed it to the side. It fell into the sand with a thud as it continued to go off. We'd been sitting on the beach for about an hour, watching as the sun dropped lower into the sky, and I'd lost count of the number of times his phone had gone off.
"Who is it this time?" I asked, but August just shook his head.
"I don't fucking care. Someone else who wants a statement, I'm sure. I don't even know how they got my number."
I nodded. "Are you going to give one? A statement?"
"Fuck, Castle." August groaned, running his fingers through his hair. "I don't think I have the ability to say anything right now that isn't just a fuck you."
My gaze lingered on his face, noting the look of turmoil and distress. I hated seeing August like this, especially since he'd been so happy over the last week. And now he was back to brooding. I'd influenced both moods, but I wasn't sure if the good outweighed the bad.
"I'm sorry," I whispered, and August's brows immediately drew inward. "You came back to Evergreen Isle to get away from this–from them–and now they've followed you here." I bit the inside of my cheek in thought before amending, "Actually, I followed you here. And then they followed me. I'm so sorry, August."
August shook his head, his lips opening and closing as he struggled to find words. And then they finally found their way out.
"You're sorry?" His eyes, intense and stormy, captured mine and wouldn't let go. "Quinn baby, there isn't a single part of this that you need to be sorry about. This is only happening because of me."
"Yeah, but–"
"Yes, they followed you," he cut in. "But the only reason they sent you in the first place was because of me. Because they knew I'm so fucking soft for you. Absolutely none of this is your fault, and I'm sorry you got dragged into my goddamn mess with this team. I know this means you probably won't want to stay here anymore, and fuck–"
"What?" It was my turn to cut him off, frowning. "What are you talking about?"
August blinked at me, those criminally long eyelashes fluttering with confusion. "If you want to salvage your career, you can't stay here, Quinn. You can't stay with me. It would only confirm everything they wrote."
