Page 222 of Just for the Plot

Finally, he says, “Then he better not fuck it up.”

I shake my head. “I can’t imagine a scenario where he would.”

“Good.” He stands. “I should get out of here. Can I get a hug?”

“Yes, of course,” I say as I stand and wrap my arms around him.

He rubs my back and whispers, “I really hope everything works out with the other guy, but if it doesn’t, you have my number, sweetheart.”

I chuckle as I pull away. “Good luck with everything…Logan.”

He picks up his coffee and protein bar. “You too, Bower.”

As I sit back down, I stare at my blank computer screen, my mind racing while my nerves tangle up into a knot in the pit of my stomach.

My heart is there. I can feel it. Without Bennett, it would crack, not feel whole, bleed for the man who has claimed it.

But my mind…my mind is holding me back.

And my guilt? Ooof, that’s handcuffing me.

CHAPTER 41

BENNETT

“Anyone else sick of comingto the zoo?” OC asks as he places an informational brochure with a picture of us on the front into a paper bag. “This shit could be done by assistants, and yet we’re stuck here packing bags for an event they’re having. Why is this something we have to do?”

I agree with him, but then again, I’m not going to complain about it. I’m just going to do it.

“Do you really think they have assistants that can do this work?” Graydon asks. “They’re not raking in multimillion-dollar contracts likeus.”

Valid point, but I stay quiet as I work to just get this done.

When Gretchen said this is what we were doing today, I was fucking pissed. Even though we won the wild card, we have two games left before the playoff game, and I want to spend those spare moments in my day helping out Bower, not stuffing gift bags while a photographer takes pictures of us.

Things have been off with us. I can feel it. She worked late last night again and skipped dinner, but I made sure to go to her place so I could at least spend the night with her, which I did, but we just held each other all night.

She wasn’t all over me like before, but rather just let me wrap my arms around her and pull her into my chest.

I’m fucking worried.

I know we had that awkward conversation about the boyfriend/girlfriend thing, and I’ve tried to pull back on that. I don’t want to push her. I know she’s going through a lot right now and trying to figure it all out—the pressure is mounting—but fuck…the pressure is mounting for metoo.

If we can push through into the playoffs, it could be the kind of revitalization we need for the team, more than any zoo PR or book club could ever help with.

But things have to work out in our favor, and I’m just not fully confident in that. We have injuries plaguing the lineup, we’re tired, overworked, and there’s still a disconnect among all the players, between the old—who cheated—and the new, who are trying to reform the ball club.

There’s a lot going on, and the pressure of losing Bower is weighing on me.

“I think I got all the pictures I needed,” the photographer says to Gretchen, who is sitting in the corner, tapping away on her phone.

“Great, I’ll walk you out.” She points her well-manicured finger at us and says, “Keep working. We need all those bags filled.” With that, she takes off with the photographer, leaving us alone.

“She’s such a fucking beast,” OC says, his eyes lingering. “I swear she makes us do this shit just to fuck with us because she can and she knows we’re scared of her.”

“I’m not scared,” Graydon says.

“Me either,” I add.