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She looks to the ground, tracing a line with her big toe. Something is up. Something has changed since I saw her only a couple of hours ago.
"I just didn't feel like coming out. I wanted an early night," she mutters without making eye contact, and that's enough for me to know she's lying to me. She won't even look at me. What the actual fuck is going on?
"Really? What happened since I last saw you tonight, Andy? Something is wrong, I can tell." I put my finger under her chin, forcing her to look up at me. I don't like that she is avoiding my gaze.
She blinks back. "Nothing happened. I'm just tired and ashamed at how badly I played today. I just needed a quiet night."
"So why not reply to my calls, then? At least let me know you were home safe. You must have known I would be worried."
A flash of something I don't recognize goes through her eyes. "Brad, I need some space, you're acting crazy right now," she says quietly.
It would have hurt less if she had slapped me. "I'm acting crazy? What are you talking about? I was worried about you when you didn't turn up. I don't see how that is me acting crazy." I drop her face and take a step back.
"I'm sorry, this is all just too much for me. I need to get my head around everything. I need some space," she says quietly.
She's pulling away from me again. And I don't get it. "What about tonight then, Andy? What was that? You wanted every bit of me then. You can't deny it, I could feel it."
"You're right, I did. But Brad, I can't think straight when you're around. That's half the problem. Everything has happened so fast with us, it's overwhelming for me. Between everything that is happening with you and the stalker." She looks me over and I really have to wonder what on earth is going through her head. Whatever it is, I don't like it. "I feel like I'm starting to lose my mind. I can't concentrate on playing, and I fucked up tonight because of it. If you really cared about me like you say you do, you would give me some space to get myself figured out."
I stare back at her, her words cutting straight through me. She's acting so cold, like a different person completely. I don't get what could have changed so much from when I saw her just a few hours ago. I'm not going to stand here begging. "I'll leave you to it then, if that's what you want," I say, glaring at her, waiting for her response.
Her hands cross over her body protectively and she straightens up. "That's what I want," she says with quiet determination.
I take a step back, not even sure what else to do or say to convince her not to block me out. It looks like she has already made up her mind. Somehow, I'm the reason she is messed up? She's blaming me for all of this. I knew right from the start that getting involved with her was going to be a bad idea, but I couldn't help myself. Somehow, I thought I could see something more with her, and I thought that was worth not only fighting for but losing my career as well.
I thought she was worth it, but I guess I don't mean the same to her.
I look back once more and she appears lost, devastated, broken. And it finally dawns on me. She's right, I have to leave her alone to work through all of this. Without another word, I walk away.
Chapter Twenty-One
Andy
I droveto Palm Springs last night after practice and stayed at my parents' place. The home I grew up in. It's beautiful here, and I can already feel myself relaxing knowing I'm out of LA and away from all the drama of the last few weeks.
On Monday when I got back from our away game, I finally sat down and talked with the team psychologist. It was Jasmine's idea, after I told her everything that happened while we were away. Jasmine's not entirely sure the girls are right about Brad. She says it doesn't add up. Like, why would he be sending me messages asking me to stay away from him if it was him? She's right, that part makes no sense at all, so I have to agree with her. It couldn't be him. Thank God.
In the light of day, I knew all of that. And I probably should have gone and talked to him about what Darcy and Luna had said straight away, but the truth is, I needed this time for myself. To process my feelings. So I have kept my distance this week, because someone is still out there trying to keep us apart, and if they are a total nutjob, I don't want them escalating anything. Brad could end up fired, or they could be a real psycho and he could end up hurt or worse. I can't stand the thought that anything could happen to him because of me.
I was more than grateful when Beth, our psychologist, said I should take the weekend off. I'm suspended anyway, but she thinks I need some space from everything. And she doesn't even know the half of it, only that I have a creepy stalker invading my privacy, not the whole sleeping-with-my-coach thing. I couldn't go into all of that with her, because I don't want the club to know and for Brad to get in any trouble.
Jasmine came home with me. She has an exciting interview near here anyway and needed to come to Palm Springs for it.
"Bacon and scrambled eggs?" asks Mom with a warm smile. She dips her head into the fridge, inspecting its contents. And I realize I've been staring out the window to our yard for quite some time.
"Sounds perfect, thanks," I reply.
My parents live on a large property with a stable and my dad's pride and joy, his horses. It's a stunning mid-century modern home with five bedrooms, three bathrooms, and gardens framing the house. There is also a large pool out back. You couldn't have a house here in Palm Springs without one; it's so hot in the summer. It's way more than my parents need now, it's just them and Cassie living here, but they love it and have no plans to leave any time soon.
Dad is out feeding the horses, like he is every morning. They have been his main focus since he retired from the entertainment industry ten years ago.
Mom pulls the items she needs from the fridge, and I hop up to help her, deciding not to be a lazy bitch just because I'm sulking about my life. I crack the eggs into a bowl, add milk, and whisk. The bacon is soon sizzling in the pan, and the delicious smell wafts through the house, bringing my little sister Cassie out of her bedroom.
"Smells like breakfast," she says. She's still in her pajamas, hair like a bird's nest, and the remnants of last night's make-up smudged under her eyes. She takes a seat at the kitchen island. I didn't get to catch up with her last night because she was out with some of her friends from college. She could have lived on campus with them, but she has a casual job as a ballet teacher that she loves here close to home so decided to stay with Mom and Dad until she has completed her studies and gets a full-time job as a teacher.
I give her a smug smile; seeing her hungover is just funny. "Looks like you had a big night, Sis?"
"Let's just say I need whatever you're cooking in that pan to bring me back to life." She drops her head to the counter and rests it on her arms as her eyes close.
