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“Okay, okay,” he said then, finally pulling my hands to his chest and opening his lungs. “Okay, so hear me out. Today, you got to watch me do something I love, right?”
“Right.”
“And it was special for you, wasn’t it?”
I nodded, completely baffled. “Of course.”
“Well…Gem. God, I can’t believe I’m doing this tonight of all nights.”
“Leo,” I said, my stomach officially in my throat.
“But that’s what it’s like for me watching you perform music.”
Oh no. No, no, no, no. Not this. Not right now.
“Leo—”
“It is,” he insisted. “I know you’re scared, but I was scared once too. I didn’t think I’d be able to do this, and look at me now. We won the fucking Championship! You can do it! I know you can!”
“Leo!”
“That’s why I booked you another shot at Monarchy. I know you weren’t ready before, but I’ve given you time—”
Emotions on overload, I jumped up from the bed on a scream and ripped my hands from his.
“I cannot believe you did this again!” I yelled, shaking so hard I could barely breathe. “Didn’t you learn anything last time?”
“Yes!” he yelled back, his temper fully engaged now too. “I learned that you’re way too stubborn for your own good! God, Gemma, why can’t you let me help you? Why can’t you give yourself a shot?”
My bones ached and my heart pounded and everything in me screamed at myself to give it more time. Not to make another mess out of this. To be calm and rational.
But I was drained dry, and I didn’t have any waiting left to give.
This time, he’d pushed too far.
The walls closed in around me, and anxiety wrapped her fingers around my throat like a fucking vise.
“I may be stubborn, but I’m allowed to be. This is my life!”
“Oh yeah? I thought maybe we were building something where it might be our life!”
“Not anymore,” I said, my voice as soft as a church mouse but as effective as a bullet.
My words had been a gut-punch reaction, flying out of my mouth and past my lips before I could really process them.
But I’d said it, and I couldn’t take it back. And by the devastated look on his face, I knew I could never fix whatever I’d destroyed with those two measly but fucking powerful words.
He took a step back, and before I knew it, I found myself taking fifteen steps away from him.
Leo didn’t say anything. And I didn’t know what to say.
Honestly, I didn’t have anything left to offer or any piece of my heart left to break.
He’d pushed me past the point of no return, and all I could do was finish the distance toward the door.
Out of the room.
Out of Leo’s life.
As the door clicked shut behind me, a sob bubbled up from my throat.
I covered my mouth with my hand, and I walked toward the elevator, trying like hell not to make eye contact with any passersby in the hall.
Once I reached the lobby, I made my way outside to hail a cab.
That night, I might’ve physically left the hotel, but my heart stayed behind, battered and bloodied and broken and, still, with Leo.
But it didn’t matter. None of it mattered. A permanent line in the sand had been drawn.
And that line, well, it severed the ties between Leo and me for good.
Cameras flashed and people cheered as the Championship victory parade through midtown Manhattan carried on around us. I’d never seen this kind of fanfare, and I’d never enjoyed it less.
Goddamn, I’d never known I could do something as momentous as win the Championship during my rookie season as a pro footballer and still be so unhappy. The whole city was out here to celebrate—the fucking mayor had dedicated the day to us—and it all still seemed incomplete.
How fucking pathetic.
“Dude, cheer the fuck up,” Sean said, shoving me in the back as the float moved on between 34th and 35th streets. “You’re ruining the group picture.”
Cam nodded as I looked back at him, and it took all I had not to hit him in the fucking face. Some people need the push, Leo, he’d said.
Fucking bastard.
But given the huge crowd of people and this being a professional outing and all with little kids lining the streets, I lashed out verbally instead of hitting him. “This is all your fucking fault anyway.”
“My fault?” Cam said on a jerk of his whole body. “How the hell is your PMS my fault?”
“Because you’re the one who said I should push Gemma. That people needed to be pushed. You’re the reason we’re not together.”
His face softened a little at my raw emotion, but his resolve didn’t. Not even a little. “Sorry, dude, but you’re going to have to turn that finger around. I may have given the advice, but the advice was sound. If you know in your heart that she needed a push, this is a part of the process.”
