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My heart sinks in my chest. “Do what? Spend the night?”
He glances toward Rhett and curses. “This. All of it. I can’t do it anymore. I should have never asked you to fake date me in the first place.”
“What?” I take a step back, like some distance will make this better, make it hurt less. “You said it didn’t feel fake anymore.”
He laughs. It’s sardonic, and cuts me as deep as his words. “I lied. I told you exactly what you wanted to hear so I could keep fucking you.”
I gasp, my hands flying to my chest like they can absorb the blows. The first tear slips down my cheek leaving a visible trail of devastation, and as it drops from my chin onto the zamboner sweatshirt with his name on the back, several more fall. I don’t bother to wipe them away.
“Look, we had a good time, but you and I both know it had an expiration date. I’m doing us both a favor and ending it early.” He glances at me, his jaw snapping shut before he adds, “I’ll send your check for payment. Thanks for yourhelp.”
My mouth opens, but I have no idea what I’m going to say. It doesn’t matter though, because he’s already gone. He’s turned his back on me and walked away without another glance.
I meant nothing to him. I was in the right place at the right time. There was nothing special about me. It could’ve been anyone, but I was the one to walk by him on the dance floor that night.
More tears fall and I sink to the ground, my legs weak and my body broken—just like the rest of me.
I was convenient, a job—nothing more.
I’m the fool who took the walls down around my heart, let him pull it out of my chest and stomp on it.
Rhett’s coming back over here, and I know I should get up and go back to his place to get Mason, but I can’t. Not yet. I can’t even look my brother in the eyes. I don’t want to see his judgment, his pity.
The closer he comes, the more tears that fall, and as soon as he stops in front of me, my shoulders shake, and I can’t help the sobs that tear out of my throat.
I half expect him to leave until I can pull myself together, but he sinks down to the floor next to me, and without a word, pulls me into his lap. His comforting hands run up and down my back while I grip the jacket of his suit and wet his shirt with my tears.
He’s holding me together the best he knows how, but I’m broken deep inside my soul, and I know it’s a place no one will be able to reach again.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
I punch the speed on the treadmill, turning it up. I need to sweat. I need the pain and the burn—the fucking punishment. Anything to try and drown out my own self-inflicted misery.
It’s been about thirty-eight hours since I said the words I knew would break Avery’s heart and walked away. There’s a hole in my chest about a mile wide, and an ache that won’t go away. It’s my constant reminder to never let someone get close to me again. My battle scar. I let emotions control me, and every ounce of pain is exactly what I deserve.
Fuck if it’s not the hardest thing I’ve had to do.
The right thing usually is.
Tag and Lincoln make their way over to me and stop in front of my machine. I ignore them and bump up the speed a little more. There’s nothing I need to talk to either of them about, and I’m sure they’re only coming over here to stick their noses directly in my business.
Now I understand why Rhett was so annoyed when we tried to give him some tough love.
Lincoln drapes his arms over the side of the treadmill. “Did you hear what happened to Mr. Ron Cooper?”
That he’s back together with Avery? That he’s moving them back across the country? It’s your fault if he does.“Nope.”
“He might have been arrested last night.” This comes from Tag as he peers over my machine, his eyes widening as he takes in my speed. Not my fault he’s a pussy and can’t keep up. There’s a reason I’m one of the fastest skaters in the NHL, and I can’t let my skills on the ice fall by the wayside. Not if I want to be traded to a top-notch team.
I wipe the sweat from my brow and slap his creeping hands away from the buttons. “For what?”
“You really should slow down.” Lincoln gives me a pointed look. He should really worry about someone else. As captain of a team that may or may not make the playoffs, he has plenty to fret over.
“I’m good. Either tell me what you came to say or leave me the fuck alone.”
Tag whistles, shaking his head, and clucks his tongue at me like a goddamn mother hen. “You’re a little surly fucker today. Guess that’s what happens when you break a girl’s heart and leave her crying on the floor.”
My chest tightens, and I nearly trip over my own feet. I wasn’t sure grief was a palpable thing, but it’s got its claws in my throat, and it’s hard to breathe.You did her a favor, it was inevitable.“Did you activate the gossip tree last night? What I do isn’t any of your business.” My gaze moves from Tag to Lincoln. “Or yours.”
