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I hate myself for being so weak and pathetic, and for letting a man make me feel this way. I’ve rolled my eyes at women who let themselves get so consumed by a man. I’ve laughed at TV shows and movies depicting the same thing, knowing I would never be the type of person to fall apart over one guy. I never have before.
The problem is, he’s not just any guy. He’s a good man, the best man, and he’s sweet, and he’s kind, and he doesn’t deserve all this chaos that’s surrounded him ever since I fell into his life. How in the hell can I possibly be mad at him? All of this stems from the fact that I told him I trusted him, but I didn’t back up my words. I kept something from him, because I was still afraid, and he has every right to be mad and think the worst of me after being blindsided like that in front of everyone.
I have no one to blame but myself for this pain in my chest that won’t go away. Not even Ellen or Tyler. If I would have been honest with Quinn the second I got that email, he never would have looked at me the way he did. Like I just killed Crouton and laughed in his face about it. Now, he’ll never trust me, and now he has to deal with a bunch of bullshit and chaos he doesn’t deserve. Because of me, he lost his agent and his best friend. Because of me, the fans are more focused on this unnecessary drama, instead of on how much work Quinn has put in with the team, at the gym, in training, meeting with the coaches daily, and with OTAs.
Not only do I have to apologize to Jeanie for deceiving her, and for her offering me the job under false pretenses. I have to apologize to her for the turmoil this has brought to her team, and the extra work it’s put on her plate, right when she’s worked so hard bringing the Sharks back to glory. Right when she took on Ellen Westwood for me, and I should be meeting with her to kiss the ground she walks on. Not groveling at her feet, hoping she doesn’t sue me for the time she lost having to deal with all this and for the bad press it brought to the Sharks.
I hear the elevator ding, and the doors open on the fifth floor. I slowly open my eyes and stare down at my feet with a deep sigh as I quickly step out into the corridor, wishing I was meeting with Jeanie under different circumstances. Wishing I wasn’t wearing last night’s clothes, and looking like complete garbage, and wishing I was meeting with her without pretending for once. The last two times, I was pretending to be in a relationship with Quinn. Now I have to pretend that I’m okay.
I’m so lost in my thoughts as I rush forward so I can get this over with as quickly as possible, that when a big, heavy hand wraps around my arm, my instincts pick up the slack my brain can’t handle. I’m immediately whirling around, bringing my fist up with me as I go, my knuckles slamming right into a solid brick wall.
“Son of a bitch!” I shout, shaking out my hand and then hugging it to my chest, the throbbing pain making me bite down on my bottom lip.
“Jesus Christ, that hurt!” Quinn pants, rubbing the spot on his chest my fist slammed into, the sound of his voice and the sight of him standing right in front of me making my heart flutter. “Remind me to send a big donation to whoever taught you self-defense. Worth every goddamn penny.”
Laughter bubbles up in my throat, but I quickly swallow it back when Quinn drops his hand from his chest to step right up into my personal space. Grabbing my wrist and pulling my hand away from my chest, he studies my knuckles and gently runs his fingertips over the top of them.
“You need ice, right now.”
I tug my wrist out of his hold, since him touching any part of me at this moment is going to make me crumble. Something that looks like pain flashes across his face when I take a few steps back and put some much-needed distance between us, but it’s gone in a flash with my next words.
“I’m fine,” I say with a tight smile, my hand freaking throbbing as I lower my arm to my side.
“Stop,” Quinn orders.
He says that one word in the same, pissed-off tone he did last night when I tried to explain to him about the job offer, and it hurts just as badly.
“Stop saying you’re fine when you’re not. Stop being a cheerleader when you don’t have to be. You’ve been crying. You’re still fucking crying, and it’s because of me, and that’s not fucking fine!” Quinn growls, my hands pausing from swiping at my tears, more than a little shocked that his anger is because of them and not because I messed up his life.
