“How?” she whispered. “You’re about to be a rookie in the NFL, Kyle. I… have a kid, one who isn’t yours. I have to get away from Marshall. I have to—” “Fuck all of that,” I said gruffly. “Fuck any excuse your brain is trying to give you right now. You’re a survivor, Mads, and I get it now. I understand why. You’ve had to survive on your own your entire life, and now, you have Sebastian depending on you, too.”
