The Wrong Game (Love of the Game, #1)

by Kandi Steiner

I stayed, until the very day he died. Somewhere in that warped, whirling span of time, I think a part of me died, too.

I wanted to know more about him. I wanted to know everything.

I don’t know what happened, I don’t know who hurt you. But I can see it. I can see you hurting and I promise you, from experience, running from it won’t make it go away.

Something I learned maybe well before I was supposed to is that trying to be what other people think you should be is a waste of time. Life is too short to be or do or say anything other than exactly what you want.

“I love when you do that,” he whispered. “Do what?” “Exist.”

Our past has a funny way of becoming part of who we are in the future, and I think that’s the way it’s meant to be.

He could leave. I could leave. We could both end up heartbroken, sitting on the floor of our souls and trying to piece together our lives again. But, we could also find forever.