Total pages in book: 121
Estimated words: 115308 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 577(@200wpm)___ 461(@250wpm)___ 384(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 115308 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 577(@200wpm)___ 461(@250wpm)___ 384(@300wpm)
“Whose party was it?”
“Dunno. Just some people I met when I was out.”
Her head snapped up, her eyes flashing angrily. “Random strangers who could have done anything to you … and they did. You took coke. And they sold photos of you, Baird. You’re lucky there were no photos of you taking the coke.”
Irritation and guilt were not a good combo for me. “I don’t need this judgmental shit from you, My. I’m about to get fucking reamed enough as it is when I go into training.”
“As well you should. I have never felt our age gap more than I do right now.”
“You’re four years older than me, My. That’s it. I was probably fucking before you were.” It wasn’t like me to be crass toward her in that way. I winced, regretting the words.
Before I could apologize, Maia pushed her chair back and stood. She pressed her hands to the table to lean toward me so she could hiss quietly, “My mum used to end up at random people’s houses to get fucked up.”
Surprise cut through me. “My—”
“My mum was an addict,” she confessed. “Heroin.”
“Maia—”
“Partied hard. It started out like this. A little experimentation here and there.” She waved a hand at me and straightened, sorrow flicking across her beautiful face. “It quickly snowballs. And I don’t need that shit in my life again.”
Before I could say a word, she stormed out.
Panicked, I pushed away from the table and was out of my seat so hard the chair toppled. I didn’t take time to right it. Instead, I raced after My.
I caught up with her as she stepped outside the building.
“Maia.” I rounded in front of her on the pavement.
She glared up at me, but there were tears in her eyes. The sight of them killed me.
“Never again.” I took her gently by the shoulders, hoping she could read my sincerity. “I will never touch the stuff ever again. I can’t. I’d lose my spot on the team. It was a mistake. I promise you I will never do it again.”
“Don’t do it for me. Do it for yourself, Baird. Do it for your sister and your mum who love you and count on you.”
I released her like she burned to the touch. Because Maia didn’t love me and count on me yet. But … there were tears in her eyes, and that meant something.
“I’ll do it for me. But I am doing it for you too. You … your friendship means more to me than a few minutes of partying. I didn’t … I didn’t know about your mum.”
Maia grimaced and looked away. “I don’t tell a lot of people.”
“You can tell me anything.”
She nodded, but it was weak. “I have to get to work.”
“I’ll see you soon.”
She didn’t quite meet my eyes as she waved and walked away. “Next time,” she said over her shoulder.
Dread filled me because I knew that I’d inadvertently broken some kind of trust with her.
I ran a hand through my wet hair, my fingers sliding over the right side of my head with an awareness I couldn’t shake. My last scan showed the skull fracture I’d suffered last season had healed.
But it was there, like a fucking phantom crack.
Maia disappeared around the corner out of sight.
“Fuck.” I kicked my motorbike, taking sadistic pleasure in the pain that ricocheted up my shin. I glanced back down the street where she’d just been. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.”
CHAPTER TWO
BAIRD
“Oi, oi! What’s the tea, boys?” I announced as I strutted into the locker room of Caledonia United Football Club a half hour later like I hadn’t a care in the world.
Caley United FC was currently Edinburgh’s top team in the Professional League and number two overall. Glasgow’s teams had been dominating the top of the league table for decades, and finally after making our way up, we’d knocked Kingston United into third place last year. This year, we were aiming to take the number one spot from Dalmarnock Thistle. There wasn’t much of the season left, but we were on course to do it. It was a lot of pressure.
And I had external shit going on too. My teammate and best pal, Callan Keen, and I had a small real estate portfolio, but we were planning our future, knowing football was a short-lived career. We’d put together a business proposal to turn Blantyre Castle, an estate on the coast just outside Edinburgh, into a hotel and spa. That castle was owned by Braden Carmichael, who was Beth’s, Callan’s fiancée’s, dad. Instead of buying it off him, we got into business with him. Callan, because of the association, had decided to be a bit more hands-off with the project than planned. Which meant I was coordinating the management of the renovation with Braden and his team.
Was there any wonder, on top of the season, I needed to blow off steam whenever I got the chance?