[18+] ENEMIES TO LOVERS SPORTS ROMANCE.
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Hannah Walker doesn't trust anyone, especially men.
They're manipulative and toxic - her lousy ex taught her that lesson well.
Enter Tristan Beckett, the embodiment of everything she despises. He's arr...
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"Oh God," I uttered, recoiling in horror.
She misunderstood my reaction. "Please. Please. You can't take him from me. I need him. You can't take him from me." Another sob wracked her body as she curled into herself, hugging her knees to her chest.
I could only stare at her with wide, horrified eyes, still trying to come to terms with what she just told me. Surely she couldn't mean him.
"Are you talking about Dylan Masters?" Who was I kidding — I knew it was him. I guess I was still holding out hope that it was some other Dylan I didn't know. Because if it was him, then I had a sinking feeling about how she ended up in this state.
She gave a small, pathetic nod and my stomach dropped.
I sat back, defeated as well as exhausted. This whole thing had quickly drained the last remnants of rest I had managed to get last night.
Just then, Jenny returned, holding an old towel and a water bottle. Crouching down beside us, she silently offered the towel and water to Beth, indicating that she should clean herself up. It was evident from the tense atmosphere around us that none of us were inclined to offer her any more help. No one trusted or liked her right now.
Beth slowly and hesitantly took the towel from Jenny, her movements careful and tentative as she dabbed at her face and neck, still hiccupping softly. She looked so small and fragile now that she was devoid of the feral anger that had possessed her just moments ago. Bruises were already beginning to darken her eyes, and, thankfully, her nose had stopped bleeding. Though, I suspected I had broken it.
My own violence surprised me. I was self-aware enough to know that I was all bark and no bite. My mom, a devout churchgoer, had always taught me to avoid conflict and never to resort to physical aggression. Even when Jace and I had our occasional fights, we knew better than to get physical in front of our mom. Losing privileges like food was more than enough deterrent. I knew I was capable of it, I just didn't like doing it. And I certainly didn't like the aftermath of it.
"I'm going to wait outside," Molly said, grumbling to herself as she walked out.
Jenny looked back at me, leaning close to whisper, "What do you want to do? I don't think we need to restrain her, but if you don't want to be in the same room, then Amanda and I can handle her by ourselves," she cleared her throat, a hint of amusement crossing her expression, "That punch did all the heavy lifting. Don't worry, we'll tell the cops it was self-defense, but remind me not to get on your bad side."
Her offer of support was sweet, and I was grateful for it, but I knew I couldn't keep running away. Beth had approached me twice before, and I still had no idea who was behind those threatening messages — and the only way I could find out was by talking to her.
"No, it's okay. I need to speak to her."
"Are you sure that's a good idea? We could barely get her off you just a few minutes ago — what if she snaps again?" She asked.
