Blind Side: A Fake Dating Sports Romance

He read my fucking books

wasn’t going to stop hurting or stop missing Clay, not for a long, long time.

But I was still here. I was still breathing, still living.

And I didn’t want to shy away from the pain as I moved forward.

It reminded me of all that was, all the powerful emotions I’d felt with Clay in the time our lives were tangled together. I never wanted to lose those stinging lashes of pain, never wanted to forget how it felt to be held by him, touched by him, kissed by him.

Loved by him.

Maybe I didn’t get to have him forever.

But I’d hold on to every little piece of him that he gave me for the rest of my life.

And after, too.

Do you know how intimidating it is to approach a girl when she’s reading a book?

You can do this — whether it’s with me or another coach or on your own. You’re strong. You’re diligent. You’re dedicated. And you’re talented.” He nodded, looking each of us in the eye. “Never forget that. Never stop fighting. And never forget that even across the country, I’m in your corner, and I believe in you.

His arms wrapped fully around me, and he kissed me like he fucking hated me, like I was the absolute bane of his existence.

She felt like home.

“Not like this.”

I wanted her so badly my chest had a gaping hole in it whenever I wasn’t with her.

Everything changed after that — slowly at first, and then all at once, like a single book falling from a shelf before you realized it was an earthquake that would eventually take down your entire house.

“Good Kitten,” he purred