“Like I ever could. You’re too stubborn, anyway.”
“Remember that.”
“And for what it’s worth, I have never wished that Mom had chosen anyone else.”
I stop breathing long enough to make my lungs burn before I force the words out. “Me either.”
The latest text I wrote out disappears as I delete the three words.
I miss you.
It’s not enough to describe what I’m feeling.
The lack of contact between us is the absolute opposite of what I want. Her silence is killing me slowly. I have one more night here before I’m back in Vancouver for two weeks, yet I’ve already wasted five hundred dollars on an economy flight set to take off in half an hour. It’s going to leave without me. I knew that when I bought it hours ago.
Brielle was clear with her decision, even if I have wanted to do nothing more than disregard it every day this week.
If I close my eyes, the only thing I see is her. She’s in my bed, wearing nothing but my shirt, on my couch flipping throughmovies on the TV, in the passenger seat of my car with a pair of my sunglasses perched on her head while she browses the playlist I made for her.
The reason for this drift is infuriating. I should never have even been on that site, let alone watching and conversing with a woman hidden behind a camera and username. My inability to allow anyone to get close to me kept me alone and hungry for a love that might overcome the pain I was feeling. Before I even knew who she was, Brielle was filling that gaping hole in my chest. I should be ashamed of that, but I’m not. Not when for even a few minutes every day, she brought me some form of peace, whether she knew it or not.
My only regret is not telling her the moment I realized who she was. Instead of deleting my account and hiding from it, I should have come out and told her that first night in my car. The loss of those early days will haunt me for the rest of my life if she chooses to say goodbye.
I missed so many nights with her because of my refusal to accept the pull I felt. And if I can’t make up for them . . .
“We went from never seeing you to finding you everywhere, Coach,” Wesley says.
I let my hands sag between my knees and look at the group of guys coming toward me. Wesley, Finn, Beckett—they’re all focused on my hunched-over figure. The parking lot is packed full tonight, but they don’t so much as pay any of the cars a glance as they approach.
My breaths came easier once I got outside and said good night to Evie. The curb is hard beneath my ass, making it utterly numb by now. Still, I don’t stand.
“Isn’t that what you were wanting?” I ask dully.
Beck’s expression tightens the longer he looks at me, so I check on Finn instead. He’s even worse.
“Are you waiting for someone?” Wesley asks with a sweep of his eyes over the parking lot.
“No.”
It’s Finn who asks, “Want company, then?”
Beck moves behind me and then to my side before dropping to sit without waiting for confirmation. “He does.”
“We just had a three-game sweep. This is what I like to consider the perfect time to be celebrating, Rome. Not hiding out on the curb alone, looking like you’re waiting for someone to drive by and hit you,” Wesley says, sitting on my other side.
He replicates my posture while Beck stretches his legs out in front of himself, and Finn shifts to stand in my direct view, his hands in the pockets of his jeans.
“What time do we leave tomorrow?” Beck asks.
I clear my throat. “Nine.”
“Are you seeing my sister after that?” Wesley pops the knuckles in his fingers one by one. “I’m assuming so.”
Slowly, I glance at the other two men. Beck has already made his knowledge of me and Brielle well known, but Finn . . . clearly, Aubrey has told him. Not a single one of them looks surprised to hear Wesley ask me about her.
“I was hoping to. If she’ll let me.”
“Whatever it is you did,” Finn starts, “make sure you bring wine with you. When it comes to Aubrey and Brielle, wine is the easiest way to get bonus points.”
