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Neither of us speaks as I fill two glasses with ice and water, pushing one toward Lance. Leaving the flowers on the counter, I dig around in my purse until I find my phone.
“Do you want to have a seat?” I motion to the living room.
My stomach is a churning mess. I haven’t eaten a thing today. My mouth is dry, and I want to get this over with so I can handle whatever is coming at me.
“Do you want to change first or anything? I know you’ve had a long day.”
“I just want to have this conversation.”
“Right. Aye. Okay.” Lance sits in the middle of the couch, forcing me into close proximity.
I angle my shoulders toward him, but keep my knees far away from his. I take a sip of water, but my stomach revolts even against that, so I set it down on the table and grip my phone with both hands.
Lance takes a huge gulp of water before he sets the glass down and turns to me, his expression reflecting my fear. “So you know that woman I was involved with a while back?”
My body feels like it’s going numb and hyper-activating at the same time. “The complicated one.”
“Yeah. It was. It is.”
“Is? As in still?” The conversation I overheard the night before he left, which has been plaguing me the entire time he’s been gone, plays through my head. I hate that I didn’t confront him about it then.
He nods. His palms smooth up and down his thighs again. I want to put my hand over his to stop the action, because it makes me even more nervous.
“She lives in LA.”
A chill runs down my spine. “Where you played last night.”
“Aye.”
“And she was there?”
“I told her I didn’t want to see her, but she’s not so good at listening, and she used to work with the team, so she always comes by when we’re in town.”
“She worked with the team?” I don’t understand how he could’ve been involved with someone he worked with.
“We trained with her.”
“Isn’t that not allowed?”
“Yeah.” His head drops. “That’s part of the reason it was so complicated. Anyway, I went right up to my room after the game. I didn’t stop at the bar, ’cause I worried she’d be there.”
I try not to fidget with my phone. “But you ended up seeing her anyway?”
“She plays head games, Poppy. She pulls this shit all the time. She’s got issues. Worse than me.”
I want to tell him he doesn’t have issues, but that’s not true.
“So what happened?”
“By the time Rookie came up, I was already asleep. I tried to call you before I went to bed, but it was late here.” He reaches out like he wants to touch me, but when I jerk away; he retracts his hand, nodding like he understands my reluctance. “Anyway, he wasn’t alone when he came up.”
“He brought a girl with him?” I don’t ask any of the questions that spring to mind, like what was he planning to do, have sex in the bed next to Lance’s?
“He brought two.”
“Was he planning to share?” I bite out.
Lance shrugs. “I dunno. Maybe? Every time he brings a girl up, I take the couch in Miller and Randy’s room. And I’m gonna ask Coach if we can switch it up with the roommate situation before the next trip.”
“He brings girls up to the room while you’re there?”
He licks his lips and looks at his lap. It makes my heart ache like it’s being squeezed. “Sometimes the bunnies have their own rooms in the hotel, in case of hook ups.”
“Sometimes but not always.” It’s a statement, not a question. And I know the answer is going to hurt.
“Aye.”
“So your roommate brought up two girls.”
“Aye.”
“And what happened?”
“One of them was Tash, the woman I was involved with. He didn’t know who she was. He hasn’t met her before.”
“I see.”
“Nothing happened with her. Not with me. Not with Rookie. But there’s a picture that makes it look like something did. She wanted it that way.”
“When was the last time you were with her?”
“I saw her the night before I first came to see you at the clinic. But whatever we had was over a long time before that.”
I close my eyes and try not to react to that information. I try not to envision him with her the way he’s been with me, in my bed. “And you slept with her then?”
He shakes his head. “No. She wanted me to, but I wouldn’t. She tricked me.”
“Tricked you?”
“She brought someone with her.”
“Another woman.”
“Aye.”
His fingers go to his mouth and then drop to his thighs. His eyes dart around and shame makes it impossible for him to look at me.
I don’t want him to feel shame for his actions, for the things he’s done in the past. I don’t want him to feel like he’s worth less because of his choices. But I do want to understand why he felt compelled to make those choices.
