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I can’t let her stop me. “Let’s be practical. Neither one of us has changed our mind about wanting an actual romantic relationship together.”Lie. “Hell, same page, right?”
Her lips part on a small gasp, but I go on. “I appreciate that you still want to help me, but if ever there was a clearly marked exit ramp from a physical arrangement intended to fill what would otherwise have been a two-year dry spell— this is it.”
Lie.
Her stricken expression tells me I’ve said enough.
It’s there in the deep draw of her breath. The slow blink that clears the hurt and confusion from her eyes.
She nods. And after looking around our apartment, she lifts her chin and stands. “You want me to leave.”
“Yes.”Lie, lie, lie.“It’ll be better for you.”
And sadly, that part is the truth.
* * *
We’reon the road again the next day, this trip marking the beginning of my life without Stormy. And it’s rough.
There’s too much time between practices, games, and meetings. Too much time to think about what I had and what I’ve lost. Too much waiting.
One day rolls into the next, and I wait for the floor to drop out of my life if Jess gets tired of toying with me. She called again. Hinting around without coming right out about the video. And when I asked what she planned to do with it, she ended the call.
I wait for the mental reset with Stormy. For the acceptance that I’m not going to be talking to her, hearing about her day, knowing how she’s doing, or scoring that last sleepy laugh before I let her off the phone so we can crash each night.
I text to check in on her. To see if she wants me to hire someone to help with moving her stuff back to her apartment. To see if she wants a new apartment, someplace bigger, more updated. But she keeps her replies simple, short. She’s fine. She doesn’t need my help with anything.
It’s probably for the best, but it sucks.
It sucks when I get to the hotel, and I have to put my phone across the room because I keep reaching for it to call.
It sucks even more after the win securing our spot in the playoffs and all I want is to share the victory with her.
It sucks not to be able to call when Vaughn Vassar loses a bet to his sister-in-law and has to learn a dance and make a TikTok with Rux.
And it sucks worst of all after the loss two days later when I am back in my room, avoiding my teammates because of my shit mood, knowing full well it wouldn’t take more than a minute of Stormy’s voice in my ear for everything to be okay.
But instead, I stare at the ceiling and listen to the sounds of the hotel around me. Sounds that never bothered me before. People all around, close enough to hear. Laughing, making plans, watching TV, having sex— thanks for that, Boomer. Living lives beyond this box I’m in.
It shouldn’t bother me, but fuck if letting go of something I swore I never wanted isn’t wrecking me.
25
Stormy
“Helloooo?”
I look up from where I’ve been flaked out, standing at the break room counter for God only knows how long, the pastry my dad picked up for me sitting neglected beside me.
Turning around, I find Mary chuckling from a table in the back. It’s ten a.m. and she’s eating leftovers from a restaurant in her brother’s neighborhood… out of his lunch bag.
“Morning, Mar. Sorry, I’m a little out of it.”
“A lot out of it, I’d say. You just watched that whole pot brew. And I’ve been in here for five minutes already.”
Right.
The coffee.
