Forever Blake (Once Upon a Player Book 3) by Elena Matthews (free books to read .TXT) 📗

your dad for punching me? He was right. I am ten years older than you, and I have no business being with a perfect, intelligent woman like you. You deserve better than a guy who’s been with enough women to fill an entire city. So, go to Harvard, become an awesome lawyer, and forget about me. I’m not worth your time, especially your love. Give it to someone who deserves it.”

Suddenly feeling light-headed from a mixture of my breaking heart and the alcohol consumption, I stumble back into the living room until I land on my ass on the sofa, bringing my head into my hands.

“I can’t believe what I’m hearing…”

My heart fractures a little bit more at the sound of her cracking voice.

She follows me. “What about last night? Did that mean nothing to you? You said you’d do anything to be with me, but now, it seems like you’re quitting while you’re ahead.”

I tilt my head to look at her. “Last night was everything, but I was obviously chasing a pipe dream. I love you. You’re the best thing that’s happened to me…but I’m not the best thing to happen to you.”

She shakes her head, fisting her hands at her sides. She gulps several times, trying to control her emotions, but the tears in her eyes continue to fill. “So, that’s it? You’re not going to fight for me, for us?”

“What’s the point?” I argue back. “There are too many things stacked up against us. Fighting is pointless, especially since your dad has me by the balls.”

Ever lets out an unsteady breath, tears now rolling down her cheeks. “Well, I guess that’s it then. Maybe you’re right. Maybe I am too good for you. You’re just like every other guy I’ve met—a spineless coward. You’re not the lawyer I thought you were. If you were, you wouldn’t let something like blackmail get to you.”

She’s right; I wouldn’t. If she were a client, I’d be fighting tooth and nail…yet when it comes to her, a single threat from her father has me spiraling out of control.

Am I being too rash right now? Am I trying to purposely sabotage what we have?

It’s hard to think properly as the scotch swimming through my body gets heavier by the minute.

“You know, I admired that you were risking it all to be with me, but that was just a fucking lie, wasn’t it? When the shit hits the fan, you just want to bail. At least I know where I stand.”

She spins on her feet, storming back over to the kitchen. She snatches the bag of food and proceeds to throw it in the trash, slamming the lid shut, making me flinch.

“It’s sad that I have a dad who’s hell-bent on ruling my life and the man who I was just about to make future plans with is bending to my father’s will. In fact, the two of you can go fuck yourselves. Have a nice life, Blake. Continue with your bachelor life. Screw your way through the entire Dallas zip code for all I care!”

She sniffs back the onset of tears and stomps over to the door. As she reaches the handle, she turns her head back to mine. “Oh, and don’t think this can be fixed with a couple of lattes once you sober up and realize what a big mistake you’ve made. Good-bye.”

I squeeze my eyes closed as she leaves my apartment, and I don’t need to sober up to realize I fucked up.

No, I can sense it with the shallow ache in my chest.

Shit, what have I done?

It’s been a week, and without a job to go to or a reason to get up in the morning, I’ve become a hermit. I now live, sleep, and breathe on my sofa. The only time I get up is when I need to use the toilet or to answer the door for food deliveries. Then, I return to the sofa and resume focusing my attention on my only companion—the TV. I’ve been binge-watching Suits while drinking my way toward liver failure with bottles after bottles of scotch. You might be wondering why I’ve chosen Suits since it was Ever who forced me to watch that shit, and I actually have no idea. I just continue with it, and now, I’m five seasons into it.

My hope was that the scotch would take my mind off a certain blonde bombshell, but with every sip, it only heightens my pain. And when I say pain, I’m talking about an agonizing pressure pushing at my chest, squeezing the hell out of my barely beating heart. I’m fairly certain I’m experiencing heartbreak, but according to the internet, it could also be a number of other things—heartburn, anxiety, angina, a heart attack. The list is endless. My bet is definitely on heartbreak though. Yet if I went to the hospital, any test results would come back negative because heartbreak isn’t a clinical diagnosis of any real illness. Even though the pain is very much real.

I know I’m letting my emotions get the best of me, allowing the depression to take advantage of my vulnerability, but when I’ve lost two of the most important things to me, it’s really hard to find the strength to take another step forward. It’s easier to give in to the darkness.

The sound of keys jingling at my front door registers in my alcohol-dazed mind, and I turn to see my brother walking inside, like he has done every day since I became this new derelict version of myself. Except today, my sister follows him with what looks like a lasagna dish in her hands.

I let out a groan. Motherfucker. If he brought reinforcements, he means business.

“What’s Kaelyn doing here?” I ask Jace.

“Oh, it’s nice to see you, too,” Kaelyn answers for him in her usual take-no-shit attitude as she sets the dish down on the kitchen countertop.

I usually love her sassiness, but I know she’s going to be the