Playing Dane (Florida East University #1), page 1
Copyright © 2022 by Hannah Gray
All rights reserved.
Cover Designer: Amy Queau, Q Design
Editor and Interior Designer: Jovana Shirley, Unforeseen Editing, www.unforeseenediting.com
No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without the written permission of the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
contents
playlist
prologue
one
two
three
four
five
six
seven
eight
nine
ten
eleven
twelve
thirteen
fourteen
fifteen
sixteen
seventeen
eighteen
nineteen
twenty
twenty-one
twenty-two
twenty-three
twenty-four
twenty-five
twenty-six
twenty-seven
twenty-eight
twenty-nine
thirty
thirty-one
epilogue
Other Books by Hannah Gray
acknowledgments
about the author
playlist
“Sand in My Boots” by Morgan Wallen
“Nothin’ on You” by Cody Johnson
“Ain’t Always the Cowboy” by Jon Pardi
“On My Way to You” by Cody Johnson
“More Than My Hometown” by Morgan Wallen
“Forever After All” by Luke Combs
“Yours” by Russell Dickerson
“The Good Ones” by Gabby Barrett
“Hell on the Heart” by Eric Church
“Setting the World on Fire” by Kenny Chesney, featuring P!nk
“Knowing You” by Kenny Chesney
“Tomorrow Me” by Luke Combs
prologue
“She’s alive.” The relief in the lady’s voice is clear as she continues to examine me.
My chest feels tight, and my head feels dizzy. I’m not in pain, though I’m not sure if that’s a good thing. My hair feels wet and matted to my head, and I don’t know why. I don’t recall swimming. Then again, I can’t remember anything right now. Other than my name.
Oh, and that it’s Christmas Day.
She rubs my arms, trying to warm me. At least, I think that’s what she’s trying to do. I can’t seem to open my eyes to see her. But she sounds kind. She sounds like she cares.
“Thank God you saw her down here,” a deep, manly voice says. “You just saved her life.”
“I didn’t save her. She swam from that car herself.”
There’s a pause, and even though I wish I could see her, my eyes feel like they are superglued together. So, instead, I listen. Something about her voice calms me the slightest bit.
“I might have gotten her the help she needs so that she can live another day … but I’m not sure she’ll even want to after this.” The lady’s voice sounds sad, and I wonder if it’s because my body is hurt even though it doesn’t feel like it is. Maybe she feels bad. It isn’t her fault. I don’t think it is anyway. “If I could save her from the pain she’s going to face the rest of her life, I would do it.” She sobs. “No child deserves this.”
“She’ll be okay,” the man says.
I pry my eyes open, but the air stings them, making me squeeze them shut again.
“See, she’s waking up.”
“Don’t you see?” she says softly. “The scars on the outside will fade. But the ones inside?” She pauses. “This poor kid will hang on to them forever. She’ll carry them around on her shoulders day in and day out.”
I feel her hand on my forehead as I start to drift off to sleep. No longer wanting to force my eyes open. Not caring anymore to fight it. Still, I try to hold on to hear her final words.
“It’s such a damn shame. Her adult life could be shaped all from this one awful day.” I hear the strain in this sweet lady’s voice, but I feel myself fading. “She’ll never know what it’s like to be a normal kid. And trust? Forget about it. This poor thing will have a permanent guard up. And I don’t blame her.”
Boy … isn’t that the truth?
one
Dane
Just fucking great.
Thanksgiving with my parents? A good time. Something I look forward to. People I love. My parents are great.
Now, Thanksgiving with my twin brother who hates me? Yeah … not so great.
Add in the girl we’re both in love with and the fact that I slept with her, knowing he wanted her more? Fuck. Me. Sideways.
Yeah, this holiday is going to suck. And likely end with one of us needing to go to the hospital. Obviously him, not me.
I pull my shirt over my head and glance at myself in the mirror. “Good e-fucking-nough,” I mumble.
I have no one to impress. I might have wanted Henley for as long as I can remember, but I know without a shadow of a doubt that it would never work out between us. She loves my brother, and she’s a mess. A mess that for the longest time, I wanted to save. Until it became clear she didn’t want me to rescue her.
No, she was holding out for Weston.
I head downstairs, where I know my parents are waiting for me so that we can go to the Hayes’ house.
Andy and Allison Hayes are my parents’ best friends. I’m talking taking vacations together, spending holidays together, and having weekly dinners together. Hell, my mom and Allison even went through pregnancy and labor … together. Making Weston, me, and Henley all share a damn birthday too.
Our parents weren’t the only ones who were close. Henley, Weston, and I were best friends most of our lives. We had all grown up together. Weston pretty much pissed on her when we were kids, marking her his for life. But then he bitched out and never made her actually his. In fact, I even heard he was sleeping around with other chicks. So, when Henley and I got way too drunk and made the stupid decision to have sex … I guess I hoped he wouldn’t take it quite as hard as he did.
Yeah … that didn’t happen. Hence why he hates his own brother now.
A few weeks ago, our team played his. I accidentally told him that I hadn’t only slept with Henley, but I had also gotten her pregnant. I thought he had already known, but it turned out, he only knew we’d had sex and not about the pregnancy. He didn’t exactly take it well. Not that I can blame him. I know I fucked up. I wish like hell I could take it back. But life doesn’t work like that, and now, Henley and I have to live with the consequences of our actions. As well as this awkward-as-shit dinner tonight.
On the bright side, I’m a few beers in, and I have a flask hidden in my pocket. So, ideally, that should help make this day more bearable.
I get downstairs, and just as I suspected, my parents are waiting for me. Weston looks up from his phone just long enough to scowl at me.
“You boys ready?” My father helps my mom put her coat on before kissing her forehead. “I’m so hungry that I could eat the ass off a rhino.”
My mom’s nose scrunches up, and she shakes her head. “You’re gross, Wyatt.”
“You love it.” He winks.
My parents are those people. The ones who are touchy-feely as shit, even after twenty-five years of marriage. It beats the alternative, but still, what grown-ass dude wants to watch his parents fondle each other?
“Are you sure I can’t just stay home?” Weston grunts. “There’re a thousand other things I’d rather do than sit at a table with that she-devil.”
“Henley isn’t a she-devil, Weston. Don’t be dramatic.” My mother snorts. “And what else would you rather do on Thanksgiving?”
“Slam my dick in a door,” he mutters back. “Cut my nuts off and put them in a blender.”
I smirk. “What nuts? You and I both know Henley’s had those in a jar on a random shelf for years.”
“Don’t say her name, Dane,” he warns. “Mom and Dad don’t want to spend this day taking your bitch ass to the hospital.”
“The two of you, shut your mouths,” my mom hisses. “Are you almost nineteen? Or are you five years old? Christ Almighty.”
“Sorry, Ma,” we both mutter in unison.
“Let’s go now,” my mother says through gritted teeth. Her small frame might not be intimidating to some, but she scares the hell out of me. “You will act like men, and you will be respectful to both Henley and her parents. Do you understand?”
“Yes, ma’am,” we answer before following our parents out the door.
My brother doesn’t spare me a second glance, and honestly, I’m starting to not even care. The longer this crap goes on, the harder it’ll be to repair it. If he wanted her so bad, he should have actually made her his. He can’t hate me forever for fucking someone who wasn’t even his.
Layla
“I can’t believe you didn’t tell your parents I was coming with you,” I scold Henley for damn near the thousandth time. “I feel l
“Why did you talk like a dude when you said that? Your impressions are the worst,” she scoffs.
“What if they run out of turkey and I accidentally take too much?” I slap my palm on my forehead. “What if there aren’t enough chairs and your mom, being your mom, gives me hers while she stands in the corner and eats?”
“You are insane.” She rolls her eyes. “My parents have enough chairs. My mom cooks a huge-ass turkey. And there’s enough stuffing to have one of your weird food-eating competitions you think are so awesome.” She widens her eyes in warning. “Chill. I’m already on edge from the shitshow this is going to be. I don’t need you getting your panties in a bunch every five seconds. Especially over a damn chair or a turkey.”
“Fine.” I cross my arms and sit back in my seat. “And FYI … eating comps are the best.”
“If you say so,” she says as we turn into her parents’ drive. “Besides, you get to take a break from reality TV for the day and watch some real-life shit. It’ll likely be more dramatic with both Weston and Dane here.”
“True dat.” I nod. “I knew there was a reason why I agreed to this.”
She invited me to Thanksgiving with her days ago. I agreed because she left out the small detail that she was surprising her parents and hadn’t even told them I was coming too. I feel like a weird, creepy intruder. But deep down, I know her parents won’t mind. They have treated me like family since the first time we met.
Henley and I met on move-in day. I’m a sophomore at Brooks University, and Henley is a freshman. She hadn’t even planned to join the swim team at all. Which was nuts because in high school, every college scout wanted her to swim for them. She wanted to be left alone, but there was something about her. I could tell she was a lost soul who needed someone to light a fire under her ass and push her in the right direction. Lucky for her, I’m a helluva fire starter. So, after some convincing from me, she talked to the coach and joined. And she kicks ass too. Now, we are teammates, roommates, and best friends. I’m even joining her for the holiday.
Normally, I’d long to be alone for the holiday and gorge myself on KFC. Because their mashed potatoes, gravy, and coleslaw are the bomb. I laugh, imagining Henley’s nose wrinkle when she saw me mix them all together last time we ate there. She thought that was the grossest thing she’d ever seen. She clearly doesn’t know what she’s missing.
Secretly, I couldn’t turn down a delicious and dramatic Thanksgiving dinner. Angela and Wyatt Wade have twin boys. Both of whom Henley is familiar with. In more ways than one. And all of us will be there … at one table. I couldn’t resist. I’m that person who can’t help but watch a train wreck. You know it’s going to be bad. Limbs and body parts everywhere. Wreckage and insanity. But your eyes are glued. You just have to watch even though it’s rude and horrifying.
Pushing her door open, she takes a deep breath. “Let’s get this over with.”
“I got your back, girlfriend.” I step out of the car. “Besides, remember, after dinner, there’s pie. And pie makes everything better.”
“Maybe not this,” she mutters and makes her way toward the house.
Yeah … even pie probably can’t help this situation.
Dane
“I’m so sad that Henley couldn’t make it,” my mom says while giving Allison a sympathetic look. “I know you were so looking forward to seeing her.”
I look at Weston, gauging his reaction to see if he’s actually happy the “she-devil” isn’t there or if he was secretly hoping to see her. His face falls, telling me it’s definitely the latter. He’s always been a hard-ass. He doesn’t like to show his emotions. Instead, he walks around, acting tough. Me? I don’t really give a fuck. If I feel something, I’m not going to hide it. Love me or hate me—it probably won’t make a difference in my life.
Suddenly, the doorbell rings, and we all look at each other in confusion.
“Who could that be?” Henley’s dad stands.
Moments later, Henley walks around the corner. And even though I’ve always been convinced that I’m in love with her, my face doesn’t look like Weston’s when we see her. And while he watches her, my eyes can’t help but drift to the pretty thing trailing in behind her.
Long deep-red hair spills in waves over the shoulders of a girl with the bluest eyes I’ve ever seen. Eyes that, against her pale skin, pierce through me as she looks around the room, taking us all in.
Holy fuck, she looks like an angel.
Something about her is vaguely familiar, and for the life of me, I can’t figure out what it is.
I couldn’t tell you what everyone talks about next. Because for some weird fucking reason, my eyes are frozen on this girl as I try to figure out if I know her, and if the answer is no, why am I so damn fascinated?
For the next hour, everyone eats and catches up, and I hear the jokes that come out of her pretty red lips every now and then. Making the whole table erupt in laughter. And what I learn is that she’s in the same sorority as Henley, she’s a sophomore at Brooks University, and she is on the swim team. I’ve never even been to Brooks, so I know I don’t know her from there. And I’ve never slept with a redhead … so that isn’t it. Still, something about her resides somewhere inside of me, and it’s driving me fucking mad, not knowing why.
I probably look like a weirdo because every time she glances up, I’m staring at her as I sit, racking my brain on who she is.
I don’t know who this Layla Lovejoy girl is. Whoever the hell she is, she’s fucking beautiful.
Layla
I’m quite sure my cheeks are on fire, to the point that I probably resemble a Cabbage Patch Kid. Which is cute … unless you’re nineteen years old with red hair. Then, it no longer looks adorable. Instead, you look like a creepy Raggedy Ann doll.
Dane Wade isn’t even trying to hide his stare. So much that during dinner, I dropped a spoonful of mashed potatoes down the front of my damn sweater because I was so tense. That. Never. Happens. To. Me.
This is the same guy who took my best friend, Henley’s, virginity. I can see why she let him take her V-card. If I were still carrying mine around, I might just offer it to him too.
Holy mother of balls … he’s hot. Light-brown hair, eyes that look more gray than blue, lips that are full enough to be delectable without being so full that they look gross. Kinda want to trace them with my tongue.
And beneath the black shirt … totally ripped. I can tell. Bet he’s hard as a rock. His abs … obviously.
I already knew he’d be hot because, ya know, he’s a twin. Weston Wade also attends Brooks U, and he’s gorgeous too. But this guy … I don’t know. He’s the epitome of a panty-dropper. Except mine can’t drop. I think they just caught on fire and turned to ash because his stare is making my skin so damn hot.
I reach for my glass of water in an attempt to cool myself down. A crappy one at that. My hands are sweaty, making them slippery. I’m a mess.
As everyone finishes their dessert, Henley takes a handful of plates and heads into the kitchen. Just on cue, like a real-life freaking soap opera, Weston follows. But he’s playing it cool, like he’s going to the bathroom.
Yeah, right, homeboy. I see you.
Of course, they are going to fight out there, not where we can all watch and maybe pop some popcorn.
I watch Dane’s eyes glance at his brother as he leaves the room. He doesn’t look jealous or angry. He looks concerned. I’ve heard enough to know both boys care about Henley. A lot. But I wonder … do they share the same type of feelings for her?
“So, Layla, dear”—Mrs. Wade smiles—“where are you from?”
The sweat intensifies in the palms of my hands, possibly underneath my boobs too, when I feel Dane’s eyes watching me again. “Florida,” I lie. “On the west coast.”
“It’s beautiful there,” she replies, nodding to Dane. “Dane attends Florida East. Opposite coast, but still stunning.”
Truthfully, I don’t know jack about Florida—east, west, south, north, none of it. I’ve never even been to Florida. But I don’t disclose where I’m from. It’s my secret to keep. For good reason too.
