Chapters (48)
- Cover
- PRAISE FOR ALEXA MARTIN’S PLAYBOOK SERIES
- Titles by Alexa Martin
- Dedication
- AUTHOR’S NOTE
- Prologue
- One
- Two
- Three
- Four
- Five
- Six
- Seven
- Eight
- Nine
- Ten
- Eleven
- Twelve
- Thirteen
- Fourteen
- Fifteen
- Sixteen
- Seventeen
- Eighteen
- Nineteen
- Twenty
- Twenty-one
- Twenty-two
- Twenty-three
- Twenty-four
- Twenty-five
- Twenty-six
- Twenty-seven
- Twenty-eight
- Twenty-nine
- Thirty
- Thirty-one
- Thirty-two
- Thirty-three
- Thirty-four
- Thirty-five
- Thirty-six
- Thirty-seven
- Thirty-eight
- Epilogue
- ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
- About the Author
- What’s next onyour reading list?
“Are you already blushing?” Marie asks. “Holy shit. This is either really good or fucking terrible. Which one is it?”
I sit on the question for a minute. Not to build excitement or curiosity or anything. But because I have no freaking idea why I came here to subject myself to this nonsense in the first place.
“Terrible,” I finally answer when I realize there’s no way to make it back to my car without getting tackled first. “More than terrible. Mortifying might be better. And I think I might be a predator now.”
“Well, crap!” a new voice says from behind me. “I skip out on one Wednesday meeting and this is what I miss?”
“Take a seat, Patterson.” Vonnie gestures to the beautiful woman behind me cradling her adorable baby bump. “This shit’s about to get good.”
Nineteen
“You kissed him?” Liv says for what feels like the tenth time.
“Yes.” My resolve not to drink has dropped to about negative three and I’m seriously eyeing the Johnnie Walker right about now.
“And he rejected you?” Vonnie asks . . . again.
I’m starting to feel like I’m stuck in some kind of time loop where only the last fifteen minutes repeat. And unlike all of the movies I watch where this happens, it’s missing the zany appeal.
“And then you ran away and now you’re ignoring his texts?” Marie not so helpfully points out.
“And calls,” Liv, the freaking jerk, not so helpfully fills in. “Don’t forget that she’s ignoring his calls too.”
You know, when I got swindled into meeting everyone here, I thought they would have a little restraint . . . maybe even be reluctant to open up in front of new people. Marie and Liv are my friends. They don’t really know Brynn and Vonnie. Hell, I don’t really know Brynn and Vonnie. How was I supposed to know that meddling in my life would bond them as though they’ve all known one another for lifetimes?
“Yes, okay?” I hit the table with a little more force than I intended, but none of them are helping and I’m reaching the end of my rope. “You’ve known me for half of my life. When have I ever not run from my problems?”
Therapy has helped me identify my issues and coping mechanisms. It has not, however, helped me change them.
“Something just isn’t right here.” Brynn leans back in her chair and folds her arms in front of her chest.
“I’m with you.” Poppy—who is beautiful and lovely and meeting me at a personal low point—takes a sip of whatever nonalcoholic concoction Brynn made for her. “This doesn’t make sense.”