The Broken : A Contemporary Sports Romance by Alexia Chase

Author:Alexia Chase [Chase, Alexia]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2021-02-11T18:30:00+00:00

Chapter Twenty-Four

Liam

Is this what hell feels like? My head throbs and whooshes as I rest it on the table. An hour ago, I came into the kitchen to clean the dishes, but I never made it past the table. Somewhere above me, I hear a shriek and a bang.

“Stop.” The word is a whisper no one else can hear. My two oldest kids were sick for a day one after another, and now, they’re great, but absolutely no help.

By the end of the second day, I had caught the bug and have done nothing with my free time as Evie naps. The house is a wreck. I haven’t done dishes in two days. The living room has toys strung from one end to the other, leading to the stairs. I cringe. Even worse, Mason and Charlotte have played everything from Lego’s to making slime to entertain themselves. I don’t even want to think about their rooms.

“Have kids. They said,” I mumble. “It’ll be great.” I snort, and pain shoots through my brain. Stop the insanity.

Beep. Chirp.

“Go away.” The thought of talking to someone makes nausea roll in my stomach. Thank God I haven’t gotten sick for six hours. Shit. There’s nothing left.

Beep. Chirp.

Fuck. I lift my head and slide my cellphone over.

Gorgeous Brunette.

I frown. Who in the hell is that? I swipe the screen open.

Gorgeous Brunette: It’s me. Isabella. Dillon said you were sick. I picked up your supplies.

Shit. My mom put her down as Gorgeous Brunette. Not that it isn’t true.

Me: Leave it on the porch. I’ll get it when I’m able to move.

Gorgeous Brunette: Someone might steal it, or the dogs might get it. I brought milk, and it’ll spoil. Your kids need milk. And probably food.

My eyes roll back in my head.

Me: Don’t say milk.

I can almost hear her laughter.

Gorgeous Brunette: Fine, I won’t say…

I try to stand, but I can’t get my legs to work. Damn. I’m weak.

Me: The code is 10456.

I lay my head down on the table and groan. Why did Dillon send her here? This is an epic mistake. She’s going to run off and never speak to me again.

Well, at least, you’ll know.

Seconds later, I hear the front door snap, but no exclamations of horror. There’s one point in her favor.

“Liam?” She calls from the entryway.

“Kitchen.”

When she steps into the kitchen, I lift one eyelid open. Her hair is pulled into a bun, and she’s wearing a t-shirt and shorts. Fuck. She’s gorgeous. I shut my eye. It hurts too much to leave it open. “You should go. This is nasty stuff.”

She chuckles. “I can handle it.”

“I’m not a pussy. This is horrible.”

“I believe you.” She drops the bags onto the island and proceeds to put everything away. I’m too tired to give directions or care if she puts anything in the wrong place.

The water turns on, and the scent of dish soap fills the air. “I’ll do that when I do not feel like I’ve been run over by a steamroller.”

She marches over to the table and squats beside me.

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