“You know what I fucking want, Mallory?” He leans forward, suddenly furious. “I want you to not be here.” I gasp in outrage. “Screw you! You asked me to be your second—” “I want you to be elsewhere. Training with your own seconds in preparation for me. So we can play a real match in Italy. The real thing.” His eyes blaze. His hand is still flat on mine. Pressing. Warm. “Your presence in this house might be what gets me up in the morning, but we can stop pretending this situation is anything like what either of us wants or needs.”
Holly liked this
