Everyone thinks they know who I am. I’m that reality TV star that fell in love with co-star Wesley Rich. But reality wasn’t my life. It was the life I lived in front of the cameras.
A life designed to entertain millions of watchers each Monday night.
It only took one night to relive my past, and one night to forget my future. With someone who had been there all along.
Soccer is my life—it’s in my blood.
I train hard, I play hard, and I win. Nothing will break my focus.
I should have been able to avoid it, resist the temptation. But it’s there, playing every Monday night, an obsession I can’t seem to shake.
And I don’t know what was harder: hiding it from my best friend, or watching the woman I want live a life with someone else.
Logan turns his neck, body following until we’re facing each other. His presence radiates with superiority, just like when we were kids. I wasn’t afraid back then and I am not afraid now. His tough-guy persona doesn’t frighten me one bit.
“Hypocritical coming from someone engaged to a man that swore he fell in love with you the moment he saw you?” he questions, sarcasm lacing every word that left his mouth.
The shock of his words cripples my ability to respond with a witty comeback. We weren’t having a good ol’ laugh throwing worms in the bottom of Ash’s school bag anymore. And my initial reaction to his cruel words does nothing to calm the sea of emotions ravaging inside me. Logan Carrington was one of them. They all came from the same seed. The seed of men that felt entitled. Screw women, move on, fuck feelings and repeat.
“Knock, knock . . . anyone home?”“You’re a jerk,” I mutter.