by Lexi Ryan
“Yeah, yeah. Tall boy. Football player, I think. What’s his name? Christopher. Yes, anyway, he dropped it off, and I about shit myself it’s so damn good.”
Willow’s eyes are wide. Mr. Gregory is talking so loud she’s probably heard every word.
She looks excited. I, on the other hand, am just confused. “Um, which play did he drop off?”
“Diary of an Angry Slut. Do you have another one like this you’re hiding from me?”
My chest goes tight. How did Chris get it, and why did he give it to Mr. Gregory? I’m confused and elated all at once. “You liked Diary?”
“Liked it? Fuck, I’d have babies with it if such a thing were feasible. Are you going to let me put it on stage this summer or not? It’s Vagina Monologues meets Sex and the City, or that’s what I’m having marketing put on the audition bulletins. Tell me your boyfriend didn’t screw up and we can move forward.”
“Ye-yes. Yes, I’ll be there for auditions.” Auditions. For my play. I pinch my leg, and it hurts, but maybe I’m still dreaming.
“Great. In the meantime, do me a favor and write the ending. It’s just kind of abrupt as it is.”
That’s because I haven’t written the ending. “Okay. I’ll work on it and bring a draft on Monday.”
“Fucking fantastic. Bring it with my coffee. I’ve been drinking this department shit, and I think it’s giving me dysentery. See you Monday, girl.”
Then, just as abruptly as the conversation started, it ends, and I’m staring at Willow with wide eyes.
“I told you you were talented,” she singsongs.
“You have to say that. It’s in your job description as my best friend.”
She grins. “And what about that boyfriend of yours? He’s pretty sneaky.” She hops off the couch and opens my bedroom door. “You can come out now.”
I swing around, and my breath catches because Chris is in Bailey’s apartment, walking out of my bedroom and toward me, his hands tucked into his pockets, his shoulders impossibly broader than the last time I saw him.
“I think he rolls in radioactive slime when I’m not around,” I whisper to Willow while keeping my eyes on Chris.
I see her nod out of the corner of my eye. “Totally explains the sexy Tarzan chest thing he has going on. And you understand I couldn’t refuse his request to hide in your bedroom when he pointed those dimples at me.”
Chris sinks to his knees in front of where I’m sitting on the couch, and only then do I notice that he’s carrying a stack of papers in his hands. The page on top has my title in a loopy font. Diary of an Angry Slut. “I hacked into your laptop to find this,” he says.
My skin tingles at his nearness, and I’m so giddy I want to jump off the couch and dance. “That’s against the law.”
He nods. “Yeah, and I knew you might hate my guts for doing it, but I had to, and then I read it and I knew what I needed to do.” He swallows hard and his blue eyes search my face. “I know I hurt you, and maybe you can’t love me after what I did, but I needed you to know that I’m in love with the woman who wrote this. She’s smart and brave, and she makes me laugh. So I took a chance.” He takes a breath. “You said once that you wanted to win the lottery just so you could buy a playhouse and pay the actors to bring your plays to life, but you don’t need to win the lottery for that to happen. You just needed to believe in yourself. You’re talented. So I did it. I took a gamble, a big-ass risk, because if you didn’t want anyone to read it then I’m just an asshole. But it’s so intense and funny and moving and all the things that you are.”
“You’re saying it was fourth down and fifteen, and you were down by six so you needed to take a chance and run it in yourself.”
His lips twitch into a hesitant grin. “Yeah, something like that.”
“It was a good call. Ballsy as hell, but I’d say you scored.” Warmth fills my core and slides over my limbs. I slide off the couch and down to the floor so I’m sitting in front of him. I want to be closer. I want to wrap myself around him and stay there for days, and then I want to run around in circles cheering. Because Chris is here. Because Chris believes in me. Because Chris knows exactly who I am and what I’ve done, and he still did this for me.
“I love when you talk football.” He places the manuscript to the side and cups my face in his big hands. “I’m so sorry I hurt you. Please let me make it up to you. I’ll be brave and take chances every day to prove to you that I want this to work and that it can.”
“Shut up and kiss me, rule breaker.”
“As you wish, football lover.”
We’re both grinning when our lips touch. My smile stretches from the kiss all the way down into my chest, and happiness radiates out my fingers and toes.
Until Willow clears her throat. “I’ll just be out front taking up smoking if you need me.”
I laugh against Chris’s mouth, unwilling to break the contact just yet. Then I hear Bailey, who I didn’t even know was home, say, “Hell, after that, I need a cigarette, too.”
When the door clicks closed, Chris breaks the kiss and strokes his thumbs down my cheeks. “Wanna lock the door and christen Bailey’s guest bed before she gets back?”
I laugh. “She’d be disappointed in us if we didn’t.”
Epilogue
Grace
When I applied for the summer playwright program at Carson College last year, I imagined wrapping up my summer while seeing one of my dreams unfold before me—someone else speaking my words on the stage.
It didn’t work out as I’d planned. Instead of being in New York, we’re in Blackhawk Valley, and instead of the family drama I thought would grab someone’s attention, my secret just-for-me play, Diary of an Angry Slut, is being performed.
As I watch the final curtain fall from the back row, my heart is in my throat, and my eyes are filled with tears. The audience laughed at the right times and gasped at the right times, and I don’t know if a lot of people cried, but the ladies in front of me definitely wiped away tears. Watching people engage like that with something I wrote is so overwhelming, I can hardly breathe.
Chris squeezes my hand, leaning over to whisper in my ear, “They loved it.”
I’m too full of gratitude to trust my voice, so I tilt my head up to kiss him. Next week, I leave for Carson College. We’ve taken full advantage of every moment of our summer together, and we’re prepared to do the long-distance thing. That doesn’t mean it’s not going to suck when we have to part ways, but it beats not having each other at all.
Chris leads me into the hallway, where I shake hands and feel my cheeks blaze with heat as people praise my play.
“Grace.”
My breath catches. That can’t be . . .
I turn toward the sound of my father’s voice and see him and Becky crossing to us from the atrium. “Why aren’t you in Italy?” I ask.
Dad smiles softly. “We cut the trip short by a few days to see your play. It was worth it.” My chest fills, and I might float away from the weightlessness of my happiness.
“Your play was so amazing, honey,” Becky says, wrapping me in her arms. “I almost peed my pants laughing, and then you had me crying.” She draws in a ragged breath. “You’re so talented.”
When I step out of her arms, Dad wraps me in his before I get a chance to speak. “I’m so proud of you,” he says into my hair. “And I’m glad I saw this play. I . . .” He swallows and, wrapped tightly against his big barrel chest, I can feel his shaky inhale. “What the girl on stage said? I never saw you as the sum total of your mistakes. I see those mistakes as my own. I wasn’t around enough. If I could go back and change the way I reacted, I would. I was always more disappointed in myself. I failed you.”
I squeeze my eyes shut. My father is a proud man. He thinks through things before acting, and as a result, it takes a lot for him to believe he did wrong. “You didn’t fail me. You picked me up and took me somewhere to start over.” My voice cracks. Why is it that on the outside I’m fall
ing apart when on the inside I’m finally being put back together? “And I turned out okay.”
“Better than okay,” he says gruffly.
I step back, and Chris takes my hand, bringing it to his lips briefly before meeting Dad’s eyes. “It’s been a long day, and our writer needs some sleep. We’ll see you two at breakfast.”
Becky grins, her gaze glued to our joined hands as if it’s the best thing she’s ever seen. “See you then!”
Chris leads me outside and we walk toward the apartment hand in hand, the moon glowing overhead.
“It’s a beautiful night,” I say. “I feel so happy and full of good things and sad all at once.”
He frowns. “Sad?”
“Only a week until I go back to New York.”
“Oh, the city, your other love. I forget about that bastard.”
I sigh. We’ve talked about our options, and it doesn’t make sense for me to give up the city to transfer to BHU when he’s entering the draft in the spring.
“The Giants are in the market for a new QB after this season,” he says, watching me.
“The baseball team?” He winces, and I laugh. “I’m joking. I know who the football Giants are. I just can’t let on how much I know about football in public, or you might jump me.”
He chuckles. “I might. Your secret football knowledge is pretty hot.”
I try to smile, but it falls away. “Are you worried? I mean, about us being apart so much?”
“I’m worried I might lose my mind,” he admits, opening the door to the apartment complex for me. “And I’m worried that missing you might be the toughest thing I’ve ever had to do, but I’m not worried about us. The longest month waiting to see you is better than the shortest moment when I thought I’d lost you.”
My heart tugs sideways in my chest as if it has a mind of its own and is trying to get closer to him. “You took the words right out of my mouth.”
“Are you sure?” He turns me against the stairwell and slides his hands into my hair. “Let me make sure I didn’t miss any.” Then he lowers his mouth to mine and treats me to a kiss so long, and deep, and sweet that I can feel the beat of my mended heart, safe and secure, and tied up in his. I’m not more vulnerable for loving him. I’m stronger.
The End
Thank you for reading Rushing In, the second book in The Blackhawk Boys series. If you’d like to receive an email when I release Sebastian’s story in book three, Going Under, please sign up for my newsletter. If you enjoyed this book, please consider leaving a review. Thank you for reading. It’s an honor!
RUSHING IN Playlist
“Joyful Girl” by Ani DiFranco
“Slut Like You” by P!nk
“Hurt” by Nine Inch Nails
“I Try” by Macy Gray
“Madness” by Muse
“Shut Up and Dance” by Walk the Moon
“You & I (Nobody in the World)” by John Legend
“Close” by Nick Jonas and Tov Lo
“Hands to Myself” by Selena Gomez
“Fix You” by Coldplay
“Gratitude” by Ani DiFranco
“Unsteady” by X Ambassadors
“Stay With Me” by Sam Smith
Other Books by Lexi Ryan
The Blackhawk Boys
Spinning Out (Arrow’s story)
Rushing In (Chris’s story)
Going Under (Sebastian’s story, coming late 2016)
LOVE UNBOUND
If you enjoyed this book, you may also enjoy the books in Love Unbound, the linked series of books set in New Hope and about the characters readers have come to love.
Splintered Hearts (A Love Unbound Series)
Unbreak Me (Maggie’s story)
Stolen Wishes: A Wish I May prequel novella (Will and Cally’s prequel)
Wish I May (Will and Cally’s novel)
Or read them together in the omnibus edition, Splintered Hearts: The New Hope Trilogy
Here and Now (A Love Unbound Series)
Lost in Me (Hanna’s story begins)
Fall to You (Hanna’s story continues)
All for This (Hanna’s story concludes)
Or read them together in the omnibus edition, Here and Now: The Complete Series
Reckless and Real (A Love Unbound Series)
Something Wild (Liz and Sam’s story begins)
Something Reckless (Liz and Sam’s story continues)
Something Real (Liz and Sam’s story concludes)
Mended Hearts (A Love Unbound Series)
Playing with Fire (Nix’s story)
Holding Her Close (Janelle and Cade’s story)
_____________________________________
Other Titles by Lexi Ryan
Hot Contemporary Romance
Text Appeal
Accidental Sex Goddess
Decadence Creek Stories and Novellas
Just One Night
Just the Way You Are
About the Author
New York Times and USA Today bestselling romance novelist Lexi Ryan is a former college English professor turned full-time writer. Author of over a dozen novels, her books have been translated into German, French, and Italian and produced in audio. She lives in rural Indiana with her husband and two children. When not writing, she can be found lifting weights, reading copiously, hanging out with her family, and thanking her lucky stars. For more information about Lexi, find her on social media or visit her website!
@writerlexiryan
LexiRyanAuthor
www.lexiryan.com
[email protected]