AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“You could help me and Luca. There’re always ways to find work when you run your own business. You could be our social media girl or something.”
I thought about Griff, who was never going to forgive me for screwing things up and making him lose his best friend. “No. I already sacrificed too much to make this happen. I need it to be worth something, at least.”36JackThe days crawled by.
Ben asked about Miss Nola and Griff several times a day, and each time felt like a knife twisting in my ribs. He’d ask why we couldn’t make up. Why they left. If it was his fault. If Griff didn’t like him anymore.
The questions were endless, and I found they all seemed to point back to a common answer: your dad fucked it all up. Miss Nola practically begged to stay, and I pushed her away because I was too worried about this exact thing happening when we’d grown even more attached.
Was it the right choice? Hell, if I knew. But it was the choice I’d made, and I was learning it was the one I needed to live with.
Nola never did come running after me when I left. She never called or texted. And when I had stooped to trying to knock on her apartment door a few days later, a stranger answered the door. Apparently she’d already moved out and someone else had moved in.
She wasn’t just out of my life, she was out of the city, and that made the loss feel even more real.
I went through the motions of my life while Ben slowly retreated back into the distant, forever buried in a sketchbook version of himself he’d been before Nola and Griff entered our lives. My teammates ribbed me for seeming even grumpier than normal, although they hadn’t thought that was possible. Damon even commented a few times on how I hadn’t seemed myself.
But life moved forward. Sponsorship deals were reached, and I shot commercials for shoes and sports drinks. I pitched a shutout in our playoff run and, according to Damon, guaranteed I was going to get paid a record deal when my next contract came up.
I should’ve been thrilled, but I found myself withdrawing right along with Ben. I turned women down who made passes at me when I was attending team parties. I ignored inviting looks at the bar. I just existed.
It was a testament to how far I’d slipped that I was willing to agree to meet up with Chris Rose after one of my games. Ben stayed with Belle while Chris and I went out to grab some drinks.
Chris had a thick white patch of gauze taped to his forehead when I met him. “What happened to you?”
He sat down on the barstool beside me, grimacing. “Word of advice. A washer and dryer may look stable, but if you stand on top of them and move around vigorously enough, they are not.”
I waited for more of an explanation, then decided it was best he was leaving it at that. I sipped my drink, trying not to think about anything. That had become my favorite pastime. Clearing my brain. If I focused long enough, I could get at least a few seconds of peace. A few blissful seconds where I didn’t keep going back to the thought of Nola and how she’d looked that first night when she tried to blot the spilled drink from my pants. Or how she’d laughed when I tackled the couch or any of the other dozens of times I klutzily hurt myself in front of her.
I could also forget about the looming possibility of the legal battle Ally was promising. Although one good thing had come of Nola’s exit from my life. The constant barrage of legal threats had completely stopped for the time being. If it hadn’t been obvious before, it was now.
Ally only cared about pissing me off because Nola drove her into some sort of jealous rage. With Nola out of the picture, she could care less about getting custody of Ben.
“I was surprised it didn’t work, you know,” Chris said out of nowhere. He’d been preoccupied with whatever was on the TV, but his attention seemed back on me. “I gave her my best advice.”
“About what?”
“Winning you back.”
The last time I’d seen Nola played in my mind. The low-cut dress, the corny music, and the extravagant meal. “Wait. You put her up to all that?”
Chris held out his hand and rocked it back and forth like a boat on troubled waters. “You know, I’ve got this problem, Jack. When people ask me for help, I try to help them. I know that’s an impulse you probably can’t relate to. How can I put this in a way you’d understand?” Chris made a show of searching the ceiling for some appropriate answer. “Okay. You know that feeling you get when someone asks you for something? The urge to growl, grumble, and possibly punch them in the face? I get an urge just as strong to be helpful. It’s weird, I know.”
