He lets out a gigantic roar and they laugh and laugh like it's the funniest thing they've ever seen. They maneuver their wheelchairs into position, lining up in front of him like they practiced all of this beforehand.
He comes up behind them, laughing at himself, saying, "Thanks Samantha, Matthew, and Blake," while placing his large hand atop each of their heads. "I couldn't have done it without you. I'm glad you were around to help me out. Now who are we challenging next?"
Samantha's face fills the screen as she calls out, "Elmo!" Matthew follows with, "Spiderman!" And last but not least, Blake shouts, "My dog, Champ!"
"So there you have it, everybody. Now go donate and give these kids a fighting chance at a cure." He's known for being standoffish, but with these kids, he appears totally at ease, having fun, their enthusiasm bringing out his true personality, his compassion for them shining through his insecurities.
I sit back in my seat and try to cope with what I've just read. I did do the Ice Bucket Challenge in real life, almost to the letter like Hailey described it in her book. She must've found out that my Instagram video didn't get many hits because no other celebrity had dared me to do it and the people the kids nominated were either imaginary or the family pet. It really never gained much traction online, not going viral like some of the other players' videos did. Hailey even included an interactive link to my video inside the pages of the book, clearly dropping any and all pretense about whom she's writing about.
She wants everybody to know it's me, and I don't know how I feel about that.
I keep going, page after page, chapter after chapter, struggling to cope with the range of emotions it's bringing out in me. At certain parts, I want to put it down, but I don't; I keep going. At some intervals, I want to go back and reread her words over again, but I forge on, determined to get to the end. It's with a bittersweet craving that I'm lured into this world she created, so like my own yet so different.
It's illuminating, and frightening. It's something I've never experienced before. The revelations keep coming one after another, and I'm powerless to stop them. She has me in her web, a prisoner to the story that's unfurling before my tired, bloodshot eyes. What she's stirring inside me through nothing but a screen is profound. Yeah, these words are meant for me, they're being directed at me, but I dare anyone not to be moved by them. I find myself wiping away tears at one point and laughing aloud at another. I forget that I'm sitting in Rick's apartment and give in to the spell she's cast over me.
When I finally reach the end, I drop my head onto the table, overcome, utterly spent, not sure what I feel. I was a fool to think that I ever knew Hailey Halpert before.
Because I really know her now.
Chapter Thirty-Three
Hailey
I hear the rumble of a motorcycle before I see its lone headlight shine through the kitchen window.
Oh my God. He's here.
I try to steady my heart because I've never felt this nervous before. I'm not used to having Jilly sit in judgment of me, but I can't say that I blame him. I pushed the most accepting, kindhearted guy I've ever met to the limit. No wonder he needed some time away from me to clear his head before coming back over.
"Go to him, Hails." Mom places her hand on my shoulder, peering out the window with me.
I turn around, startled. "But, Ma, you never let me go for a ride on his bike before. You always said it was too dangerous, even with a helmet, even if he went the speed limit, even if—"
"You're over twenty-one now. I can't stop you." She shrugs, giving me an anxious smile. I know she's not keen on the idea, but she's swallowing her fears, knowing how much this means to me.
"I love you, Mom!" I throw my arms around her and give her a big hug.
"I love you, too," she says, rubbing my back. "Now go straighten everything out with Bruce so I don't have to watch you moping around my kitchen anymore."
"I want to." I raise the back of my hand to one eye and then the other, trying to stem my tears. "I just hope he'll let me."
"That boy loves you, Hailey, and that sort of love you only experience once in a lifetime, if you're lucky." She dabs at her own eyes with the corner of her apron. "Now don't waste any more time standing here, talking to me. Go out there and talk to him."
"Are you sure you're gonna be okay with the rest of these orders?" I pause with my hand on the door.
"Go!" Mom shoos me with her hands.
I take courage in her optimism and bound out the door, ready to face my fate, but I'm momentarily blinded when the bike's light strikes my eyes. I place a hand to my forehead, shielding them, and proceed cautiously toward him. He's sitting astride his Harley, a helmet in his lap. I know he never used to wear one, so it must be for me. His posture is pretty relaxed, but he's always looked at home on his bike. As I get closer, his eyes give nothing away.
We stare at each other, unsure of what to do next. A little less than twenty-four hours ago, he was in my bed with his hands everywhere I ever wanted them to be, and now it's like we're in this standoff, neither of us wanting to make the first move.
I look down at my Converse-covered feet. He knows about the book. He doesn't have say it. That impenetrable wall of his is up. I've seen him hide behind it before, just never when he was alone with me. I wish he would scream and yell at me—anything but shut me out.
"Get on," he says, offering me the helmet.
I step forward and take it from him, shoving it on top of my head. But then he does something I don't expect—he gets off, holding on to the bike with one hand.
"You're gonna have to sit in front." He motions me forward, and I do as I was told. "I'm gonna need your help driving the rest of the way with this brace on."
Secretly, I've always wanted to be in control of his bike, and now that I'm finally getting the chance, I'm not going to argue with him.
I slide one leg over and then the other, feeling the hum of the engine between my legs. I gasp when he doesn't wait and climbs on right behind me, not giving me a minute to adjust myself. My hands automatically go to the handlebars and he drapes his fingers over mine. I close my eyes and take a deep breath, remembering where his fingers were last night.
"This one makes it stop, and this one makes it go," he explains, raising his voice so I can hear him through the helmet. "Got it?"
I nod, and his feet come off the ground to rest against mine. I steer us toward the road, squeezing the correct handle as smoothly as I can. The bike roars to life, and we coast out of the parking lot and onto the street.
Even with all that's going on, I can't deny the exhilaration that comes over me. What a rush! The cool evening breeze whips around us, making me wish I were wearing a sweatshirt and jeans instead of a Halpert's Pizza and Subs tee over my shorts. But it's not long before Jilly shifts around me, trying to block the wind with his body. My full concentration is on the road in front of us, but I take advantage of the opportunity to nestle myself deeper between his thighs. He stiffens against me, and I smile. There's no denying what I feel jutting into my backside.
"I'll take it from here," he says gruffly, placing his good hand over mine, his brace at my waist. "You keep us steady. I'll direct the bike."
I comply with his request, wondering where he's taking me. We motor past the bank then the post office before turning down a street I haven't been on in quite some time. He makes a left turn, gliding onto the road where Loftus Central High's athletic fields are located. I know immediately where he's going as we climb the hill toward the baseball diamond all the way in the back. He cuts the engine, pulling alongside the bleachers, nudging the kickstand down with his boot before getting off.
He leaves me sitting there as his long strides eat up the ground, and soon he's all the way in center field. His back is to me when he places his hand on his hip and glances around. All of the lights are on due to the recent string of vandalism that added a fresh layer of graffiti to the bleachers, so he's fully illuminated out there, going back to where it a
ll began.
He's quiet—even quieter than usual.
I give him a minute, swept away by all of the memories we've shared here together. This is where his greatness was born, the place where a hulking kid from Butesville started his journey toward becoming number twenty-four of the New York Kings.
His upward trajectory is breathtaking to behold because I witnessed it from day one. My eyes start to fill up, gazing at the broad plane of his shoulders, taking it all in, remembering where it all started for him. He achieved every goal he'd set out to achieve. I just wish he hadn't had to feel so lonely doing it.
I pry the helmet off of my head and leave it on the seat of his bike. I bend my head over and fluff out my hair before sending my curls tumbling over my back. He looks over his shoulder at that moment, his eyes hungry for more. He watches every step I take as I narrow the distance between us, starting at home plate and working my way toward second base. He's on the warning track in the outfield, all the way against the fence, so I keep going, not stopping until I'm standing before him.
When I reach up to touch him, he grasps my wrist in his hand. I look at him questioningly, and he just sighs and shakes his head.
"I need more time," he utters like it's hurting him to have to say it.
I blink, wondering what this could mean. "How…long?" I ask, my voice shaking.
"I don't know. I just need to be alone for a while and figure some stuff out about you, about me, about us." He lets go of my hand, his arm returning to his side.
"About Kurt—" I begin, needing to get this out.
"I don't wanna talk about him right now," he says, his eyes darkening as he looks away from me at the bleachers where I used to sit and watch him play.
"But—"
"I said I don't wanna talk about him." He looks at me angrily, and I bite my tongue, hating that he thinks he saw something between Kurt and me that wasn't even real.
"Then why did you bring me out here?" I rub my arms, getting mad because I thought he wanted to talk.
"To tell you that I read your book about me." His expression softens when he sees the blood drain from my face. "And that's why I need more time."
"Bruce, I didn't mean to—" I grab his shirt, needing him to hear the truth about why I did it.
He stands there stoically before putting his fingers over my lips. "Stop, Hailey. Just listen. I'm not mad about the book. I'm mad that you put it out there and didn't even tell me about it."
I drop my head, too ashamed to look at him. "I know. I—"
"I don't know why you do these things to hurt me. Kissing Kurt, not telling me about these books. I love you, Hailey. I'll always love you. I just don't know if I can handle being with you." His voice is raspy and raw as I stagger backward, clutching my stomach.
"For now…or forever?" I choke out.
"I don't know. That's what I gotta figure out…on my own." He clears his throat, looking tortured.
"You do what you gotta do," I respond, mustering up a weak smile, letting him see that I'm okay with this as long as there's still hope that he'll change his mind. "I'll wait for you. I'll wait a lifetime for you if I have to."
He takes a step toward me, and I feel his lips graze the top of my head, which makes me want to break down, cling to him, and refuse to let him go. But I have to be strong. I caused this, and if a separation is what he needs, I have to give it to him in order to start repairing all of the damage I've done. It's time for me to grow up and stop running from my problems. He's making me face them, and if there's any chance I can still be with him, I will for his sake. I swear I'll make this right.
"Let me take you home. It's late. Your mom will be worried." He places his hand on my shoulder, and I bite my lip, trembling, remembering when he did the same thing outside of Sake, when I thought things were finally back on track for us.
God, how far we've come since that night.
"I love you, Bruce," I whisper, staring up at him with tears in my eyes.
"I know," he says, exhaling sharply. "But we're not in high school anymore, Hailey. You can't keep playing these games with me. I play a game for a living. I don't wanna play one in my personal life. I deserve better than that from you."
We walk silently across the field, side by side. Not holding hands. Not arm in arm. There's a distance separating us now, and I intend to do everything in my power to close it. This is not how we're going to end. Not tonight. Not on this field.
We get back on his bike and I savor every moment I have left with him, not knowing when I'll see him again. When we arrive back at Halpert's Pizza and Subs, I reluctantly disengage myself from his arms. I can't believe I actually thought that, after that night on the Staten Island ferry, I'd be able to walk away from him—because it's killing me to have to do so now.
He twirls one of my curls around his finger, kissing it before letting it go. I smile at him, and he gives me a nod, revving the engine and tearing off into the night.
I swallow my tears, determined not to give in to them. I have a lot of work to do if I'm going to be the type of person he needs in his life.
And the transformation starts now.
Chapter Thirty-Four
Hailey
The next day, I didn't need Rick to tell me that he was gone.
I knew it in my heart. And that's why the past two months have been so difficult.
Jilly didn't just leave Butesville—he dropped off the radar completely.
The Kings gave vague updates on their social media sites that his rehab was progressing smoothly, but they never said where he was or what he was doing. I felt like I was in a state of withdrawal, this being the first time I wasn't able to keep tabs on him. But I had a strong suspicion that that's the way he wanted it—because he knew I'd be watching him.
So, in order to draw him out, I knew I had to put myself out there. If I couldn't go to him, then I needed him to come to me—by doing something I swore I'd never do.
Embracing my inner R.D. Bukater.
I gaze nervously around the Manhattan flagship store of the country's largest bookseller, popping the lid of my pen on and off, trying to get a handle on my anxiety. I search the row of unfamiliar faces that are standing alongside me until I land on Gayle's. She gives me a big thumbs-up, but I must be turning green because she hurries over to me before my very first book signing gets underway.
"You all right?" Gayle brushes an imaginary piece of lint off my number twenty-four Jilly shirt, acting like she's an overeager assistant fawning all over me and not one of the most powerful media moguls in all of New York.
"I just have to keep telling myself that I'm doing this for him because that's the only way I'm gonna get through it." I peer into Gayle's eyes. My hands are starting to shake, so I hide them under the table.
"You have nothing to worry about!" Gayle exclaims softly, giving me a wink. "All of your readers are dying to meet you. I even heard that a fourteen-year-old boy passed out at the end of the line because he got so excited."
"You're kidding. Is he okay?" I stare out the window at the line that is wrapping around the building.
"He's fine," Gayle chuckles. "Just know that you're not the only one with opening-night jitters."
"It's freezing out there. I hope they don't have to wait outside all night just to see me," I groan, watching the wind rustle the flags outside the store.
"If they can sit in Kings Stadium for a playoff game in October, trust me, they'll brave a little bit of chilly weather in order to meet you." Gayle rubs her hands together before sticking them in the pockets of her cashmere cardigan. "I think a lot of them are still reeling after the Kings got knocked outta the playoffs, and they're looking for something to fill the gap until spring training. Your books are the perfect remedy for that."
"Well, the Kings went from world champions to barely getting a wildcard spot in one year. It's quite a step down. The fans can't be happy about it," I ramble on, hoping that talking baseball with Gayle will settle my nerves. "And i
n that wildcard game with Detroit, the bullpen had to lose it with another blown save. I bet that's been eating away at him all—"
Gayle clears her throat, interrupting me. "I thought we weren't going to mention his name until after this is over? I don't want you getting your hopes up for nothing."
"You're right. Sorry." I run my hand over the glossy cover of Game of Love, hardly believing it's real.
I'm about to let people pose for pictures with me and ask me questions about my stories. I never thought I'd be able to do this. Me—backward, antisocial, introverted Hailey Halpert—front and center as the romance world's newest sensation.
But now I have the motivation to step into the limelight that I didn't have before—the aching desire to see Jilly again. If this doesn't work, I'll travel to events all over the country if I have to until he shows up and faces me. But I kind of hope it doesn't come to that because this one is going to be more than I can take.
I'm doing this for him, not for me. I want Jilly to know that, whatever happens, I love him and I always will. If he doesn't feel the same way, then I'm just going to have to accept that. But I can't leave things hanging the way they are. I need to see him—even if it turns out to be for one last time.
"Ms. Bukater, are you ready?" The store manager steps forward, breaking up Gayle's pep talk with me. "It's already five after seven."
"Showtime!" Gayle whispers, giving me a squeeze before chatting up the members of the media who are present, ready to place a positive spin on things. Really, I don't know what I'd do without her. She's been nothing but amazing.
I sit up straight and take a deep breath as the door opens, but my jaw drops when the first person who breezes through is Terry Bloom. He smiles broadly as the flashbulbs go off. Wow. This is big.
The general manager of the Kings is here in support of an author he said that the team had wanted no affiliation with a few short months ago. Boy, how things have changed. Now that all threats by Drake's lawyer have been squashed, he's ready to embrace me and end the distraction that might take Jilly's mind out of the game. He's already thinking ahead to next season, and he needs Jilly sharp, determined, and ready to go. If he has to make peace with me in order to do it, so be it. He's a pro at working the right PR angle to the team's advantage, so why would he stop now?
Game On Page 21
