by Erika Kelly
Gigi: Guess what? I’m coming home early!
Her finger hovered over the Send button. Wait a second. Where was he right now? What was he doing?
Right. Camp had ended, and they’d started their vacation. Which meant the guys would be out on their adventures.
If she texted him, he’d insist on picking her up from the airport. He’d spend the night with her—not his teammates. And, since he was already letting them down by staying in Calamity, she didn’t want to make it worse by taking him away from them.
Maybe she should stick to her travel plans?
No. If she got in tonight, she could see him in the morning, before he left for…actually, she wasn’t sure what their plans were for tomorrow.
Which meant…ugh. She had to ask Amie about the schedule.
She canceled her text and started a new one.
Gigi: Hey, girl. You figure out you’re not getting in my man’s pants yet?
She chuckled, as she hit delete and then tried again.
Gigi: How’s it going? Can you keep a secret?
Amie: Of course! This better be good!
Gigi: I’m coming back to Calamity tonight, and I want to see Cassian, but I don’t want to interrupt his time with the guys. What’s the plan tomorrow?
Wait, did she need to continue the ruse? Her family, his teammates, now Dale knew…did she still need to hide her relationship?
Nope. She was done with that. No more hiding from anybody.
Amie: Knew you two were a thing! Awesome! And white water rafting starts at ten.
Gigi: Ah. So that’s all day.
Amie: Yes, but you can come early. I’ve got a breakfast buffet scheduled in the suite for nine. Do you want to come by around eight?
Gigi: That sounds great.
Amie: Don’t worry about waking the guys up. I promise, after tonight’s party, they’re going to be zombies in the morning. I’ll have a key for you at the front desk. Just come on up. He’ll be thrilled to see you!
She wanted to ask if Cassian was partying that hard. He never seemed wasted when she talked to him. But she would never give Amie that kind of power.
Gigi: Awesome, thanks!
Amie: Welcome!
As she entered her cottage, an uncomfortable sensation tripped down her spine. With the guys partying like that, women would be involved.
They hadn’t found the photographer yet, so he could find his way into the hotel.
Stop it. Don’t borrow trouble.
Everything will be just fine.
Chapter Eighteen
A rap on the door startled Cassian out of a deep sleep. “Yeah?” Hitching up on an elbow, he checked his phone, a little disappointed he hadn’t heard from Gigi last night.
The door opened, and Amie walked in.
Ah, hell. “What’re you doing here?”
“Tito texted me last night.” Her eyes were puffy and red. “They wanted cigars, so I brought them by. I wound up crashing on the couch. It was too late to go to my place.” Tears streamed down her cheeks, and she held her phone against her stomach. “Steve dumped me. He’s done.” She stood in the doorway, fragile and overwrought.
He threw the covers off. “Let me get dressed. I’ll meet you in the living room.”
“Everyone’s sleeping. Never mind.” Her features crumpled in distress. “It’s fine. I’ll just go back to the condo.” But her head lowered, her shoulders shook, and she swiped under her eyes with the back of her hand.
He didn’t know if she was manipulating him, but he knew nobody could fake tears like that. “What happened? I thought you guys were good.”
“So did I.” She sat down on the edge of his bed. Wracked with sobs, she hid her face in her hands.
Shit. Still groggy, Cassian set his feet on the floor. “Okay, what…what happened? You said moving into the condo was a good thing for your relationship, that you two had never been closer.”
“Some of the guys posted pictures of the party last night. I wasn’t doing anything. I was dancing with Andre and a few other guys, but there was nothing bad about it. I was dressed…I wasn’t… I mean, I was wasted, but I wasn’t gross.” For a moment, she got too choked up to talk.
“He…he says he’s a simple guy who wants a simple life, and I’m anything but simple.”
“You’ve been dating him for two years. Isn’t it a little late in the game for him to figure that out now?”
“Yes. It’s so unfair.” She fell against him, her forehead hot and damp on his bare shoulder, which meant…shit. He was shirtless, wearing nothing but boxers.
“He says…he says we want different things. He says I won’t be happy being his wife, that I’ll always want to be the center of attention, surrounded by fancy things. He said I’m too materialistic.”
He wanted to say, The guy’s probably right. She and Steve didn’t sound like the best fit, especially if he was always threatening to break up with her. But he knew she needed to vent, not get a lecture, so he stayed quiet.
There might not be any cameras angled on them, but it still wasn’t right to be comforting her in his bedroom…on his bed…in his boxers. Eyes on the jeans and T-shirt he’d slung across the chair, he started to get up.
“But he’s wrong. I don’t need all that.” She tucked her face into his pec, her body shaking. “I just feel like I’ve invested so much into this relationship and for him to throw me away? I can’t…I…”
Shit. He hated to see her destroyed like this. Not going to push her away right now.
He’d give her a minute to calm down.
He was safe here in his bedroom.
“Good morning.” Gigi smiled at the man behind the reception desk. “I’m Gigi Cavanaugh. I believe you have a key waiting for me. Cassian Ellis’s suite.”
His eyes went wide, but he worked hard to school his features. “We sure do. Let me grab that for you.” He reached for a folio with her name scrawled across it. “Normally, I’d ask for ID. But you’re….gah. I’m sorry. I’m supposed to play it cool with the guests.” He leaned back, glancing into the office. Then, he whispered, “Could I please have your autograph? I’d tell you it’s for my niece, but I’d be lying. My friends make fun of me, but I don’t care. I love the Lollipops.”
She grinned. “There’s no shame in loving any kind of music. I literally have to pull the car over every time “Faithfully” comes on the radio, just so I can act it out like I did when I was a thirteen-year-old girl in my bedroom pretending to be on stage.” She didn’t let him see the way his reaction stung.
She got it a lot from people. They didn’t even realize the insult behind the compliment. Hopefully, one day she’d be known for her music, and people wouldn’t be embarrassed to like it.
“And you made it, playing arenas around the world. Talk about realizing your dreams.” He tore a sheet of paper off a notepad and handed her a pen. “Thank you so much. When does the next album drop, and is your tour coming anywhere near Calamity?”
“I wish I had answers for you, but nothing’s confirmed yet.” She wrote, It was great to meet you, Arturo! Have a great day, Gigi. And then handed it back. “Here you go.”
Grinning, he flapped the note like he was trying to dry the ink. “Thank you so much.” When she started to walk off, he called, “You’ll need to swipe that key in the elevator to get to the top floor. And when the door opens, you’re in it. It’s like a huge apartment.”
“Perfect, thank you.” It seemed crazy, because she’d only been gone less than a week, but she already missed Cassian so badly. And she couldn’t wait to tell him she was all-in.
The minute she saw him, she was going to jump into his arms.
Maybe she’d lock his bedroom door, so she could give him a proper wake-up call. Her whole body heated at the thought.
She hit the call button, aware of the eerie quiet of the lobby. Still, even though Cassian had booked the entire hotel, she didn’t feel safe. They hadn’t caught the photographer. He could be lurking
anywhere.
She got a tingle at the back of her neck. The moment the elevator doors opened, she stepped inside, like she was fleeing from danger. She swiped the keycard for the penthouse.
Their time together was almost over, and it made her scared that they were going to live so far apart. Right when she’d decided she couldn’t live without him, it was time for him to start training camp.
How would they survive three thousand miles apart?
Unless…what if she moved to Boston? For the short term, she could rent studio space. But, eventually, they could buy a place together. She could build a studio in it.
What does it matter where I live? I can literally do my business anywhere in the world.
The thrill of it swept through her. She was going to do it. She was going to move to Boston.
Excitement popped like champagne bubbles underneath her skin. She could make this album with Dale, live with Cassian…God. She hadn’t fully believed they could truly be together. A part of her had held back, thinking they only had this summer.
But it had finally happened. After all this time, all the heartache, she and Cassian were together.
Forever.
Nothing felt more right. She’d never felt more complete.
The doors opened, and she nearly choked at the strong smell, a mix of booze, greasy food, and old gym bag. She stepped onto the marble-tiled floor into the huge living area.
Holy shit. Bodies were passed out everywhere. And were those…Jesus, used condoms on the floor?
Liquor bottles and pizza boxes littered the tables. A huge man lay curled up in the fetal position near the fireplace, and a couple women cuddled on the couch.
For a moment, all she could hear was the pounding of her heart.
If Cassian were here…what if the photographer had gotten pictures of him partying this hard? If he’d been this drunk, had he been dirty dancing with any of these women?
She felt sick.
What if Cassian had gotten so messed up, he’d passed out with some woman wrapped around him?
Stop it. Stop it right now. He said he’s done with this lifestyle.
Every night while she was in LA, he’d gone home at nine so they could catch up with each other.
He loves me. She knew that. Down to her bones, she knew he loved her and would never jeopardize what they had. Which meant he wouldn’t get so drunk he didn’t know what he was doing.
She didn’t bother looking to see if he was one of the guys in this room.
He wouldn’t hurt us. He wouldn’t.
So, which was Cassian’s bedroom? She headed left, where she saw two closed doors along a dark hallway. She would guess the master bedroom would be off by itself, so she made her way across the living area, stepping around the refuse and sleeping bodies. She felt a little better, knowing—even if it was just logistically—that he was somehow separated from the decadence.
As she approached, her body tightened in fear of what she’d find behind that door.
Stop doubting him. You can’t build a relationship on a shaky foundation.
I trust him. I do.
Except….she thought she heard murmuring.
The closer she got, the clearer the sound. Quiet conversation.
And, then, she was sure she heard a female voice.
Amie’s.
No. It can’t be. She’s not staying here.
In the back of her mind, she was aware of noises—the suite’s door closing, sneaker soles squeaking on marble—but every cell in her body had gone on red alert, as she focused keenly on what was going on behind that crack in the door.
The rush of adrenaline was so strong she saw stars behind her eyes. Her heart hurt from beating too fast and hard. She peered inside to find Amie in nothing but a football jersey sitting on the bed, nestled within the shelter of Cassian’s muscled arm.
The shock of it hit her system, stinging her nerves.
Cassian was naked, other than a pair of black boxer briefs. Amie, in a jersey—wait, was that Cassian’s number? Yes, God, it was. With her bare legs, she was snuggled against him, and they were talking like lovers.
A sickening punch of betrayal shot through her. She looked to her boyfriend, the man who couldn’t live without her, the man who’d rather retire from football than lose her. The volatile mix of rage and hurt spun, gathering velocity, turning into a whirlwind. “Cassian?” She smacked the door open and strode in. “What’re you doing?”
He jumped off the bed, pointing at something just over her shoulder. “Turn that off.”
It was only then that she felt the presence behind her. She swung around to find a man recording on his phone.
Cassian stalked around her. “Right the fuck now.”
Chaos erupted, feet pounding, as some of the players came rushing in. Amie, in his jersey, stood there watching the scene unfold. Gigi didn’t buy for a second her look of shock and upset.
Guys were shouting. Andre was wrestling the phone out of the man’s hands.
Gigi went numb, sounds turned muffled, and right then she heard a crack inside her body.
She was done living like this. She was done with drama and heartache and pain and betrayal. She was just done.
“Gigi.” Cassian closed the gap between them, but her fight or flight instincts kicked in, and she shoved him hard. Hard enough that he—still moving toward her—lost his footing and had to sidestep, catching himself before he fell.
She bolted.
Oh, God, oh God, oh God, this isn’t happening. Some of the guys were just getting up. She heard someone say, “What’s going on?”
In the distance, she heard Amie cry, “You told me you’re not together. You said you’re not with her.”
Cassian’s bare feet slapped on the marble. “Get out of my way.”
His voice was so scary, so fierce, she swung around to see who he’d talk to like that. She watched as he shoved the photographer aside.
Hands shaking, she hit the elevator button. The doors opened right away, and she stepped inside.
“Gigi, dammit. Wait.” Cassian sounded desperate, panicked.
She didn’t care. She pressed the Close button, relieved when she blocked him out.
Because she was repulsed. She didn’t want to see him. She didn’t want him to touch her. And she didn’t want to hear his pathetic, lying voice.
She was done.
She was never going to trust that bastard again.
Zach grabbed Cassian’s arm and hauled him back. What the fuck? “Get off me.”
The guy released him like his skin was covered in shit. “You’re wearing boxers.”
Cassian glanced down at his bare chest and legs, the briefs the only thing keeping him from nudity. “Fuck. I have to get her.”
“You’re not running through the lobby of a five-star hotel like this. There’s staff all over the place.” He looked disgusted. “You want to draw more attention to yourself?”
“I have to get Gigi back and explain.”
“Explain what?” Zach lifted both arms in exasperation. “You had a woman in your bedroom. A woman you spend a lot of time with.”
“Yeah, because her boyfriend broke up with her. She’s upset.”
“You think, if my wife lived in this town, that I’d let another woman into my bedroom? No. I would not.”
He’d known that. He’d almost gotten dressed and brought Amie out to the living area. But he hadn’t. “It was you. You set me up, you fucking asshole.”
“Me? Why would I draw more attention to your drama?”
“You want to get me traded.”
“I…what?” He looked genuinely confused. “I don’t want you to get traded. I want you to stop being an embarrassment to this team. Is that what you’ve been thinking all this time?” He didn’t wait for an answer. “You can’t be this stupid. Everyone knows how much Amie wants to be on that TV show.”
Panic flared inside him. He shot a look to the scuffle behind him, Amie, Andre, and th
e photographer.
Gigi was right. From the start, she’d told him, but he’d just kept defending his “friend.”
Fuck.
* * *
Cassian barreled down the highway, fingers in a death grip on the steering wheel.
What have I done?
Why hadn’t he gotten Amie out of his room? He’d known he needed to get dressed…
A clammy feeling crawled over his skin. The moment he’d started to pull away, she’d turned on the waterworks. Those wracking sobs had about killed him. He’d believed her.
And she’d been playing him. Using him.
Was there even a boyfriend?
How could his instincts have been so off about her?
He knew—even in this moment, when he was panicked and out of his mind—that Amie had never been hitting on him. He knew when a woman wanted to hook up.
But she had wanted to get on the show, and she’d used him to do it. She’d figured the press would be just more of the same for him.
Why hadn’t he figured that out?
What was the matter with him?
Why did he keep fucking up?
The image of Gigi racing out of the suite—
Fuck, the suite. She’d seen people passed out, used condoms on the floor….
He might’ve cancelled the trip, but he hadn’t stopped the party. He’d just thrown it in his hometown.
He’d fucked up. Badly.
Okay, okay. He’d talk to her. Explain.
Early morning summer traffic on I-191—campers and vans, tourists heading into the mountains—slowed him, when every second mattered. With every minute that ticked by, the distrust sank deeper, hardening from molten to rock. Veering across the divider line, he saw a car coming in the distance, so he floored it, accelerating past the RV in front of him.
The oncoming car laid on its horn, but he didn’t care. He had to get to her.
And say what? He’d promised no more drama, and not only had she walked into his bedroom to find him in nothing but boxers consoling another woman, but the whole scene had been recorded for NFL Cheerleader. Andre might’ve gotten possession of the phone, but not before the photographer had emailed himself a copy of it.
