She’d known about this for two weeks, and she hadn’t said a damn word? Why not? Did she think he would try to stop her? Did she think he would try to convince her to stay with him?
He wouldn’t. He’d sworn not to.
Of course, he’d also sworn not to fall for her, and he’d broken that promise. She didn’t know that, though. Now she never would, because if she could accept a job and leave without telling him, then he could damn well take any feelings he had for her to the grave with him.
By the time the elevator doors opened, he was trembling with rage and an unknown emotion he had no interest in examining further. One that made it hard to breathe, caused his throat to close up, and made the room spin. Something that felt a hell of a lot like what people called heartbreak. Instead of naming that emotion, he clung to the anger he felt.
In the past, he would deal with his frustration by getting drunk alone in a bar, and banging some chick he wouldn’t remember come morning. He didn’t want to bang a chick, though, so he pulled his phone out of his pocket and dialed quickly.
Within two rings, his brother answered. “Eric? What’s up?”
He tightened his grip on his iPhone, walking across the lobby with the bottle of champagne he’d bought for Shelby still in his hands. “I need you, Wyatt. Are you home?”
“I can be at Mom and Dad’s in twenty. Why? What’s wrong?”
Eric walked to his car, flexing his jaw as he frowned up at the darkening sky. “I fell in love.”
“Well, what the hell did you go and do that for?”
“I don’t know,” he admitted. “See you in twenty?”
“I’ll be there.”
They hung up, and he slid into the driver’s side. As he turned his car on, he glanced up at his building and stared at the first window on his floor. She had her curtains drawn, but he knew it was hers. He was supposed to be up there, in her place, holding her in his arms. Instead, he was leaving, only seconds after he’d told himself he wasn’t a runner, but a fighter.
He wasn’t running. He was just taking a step back so he could think. When—if—he confronted her, it had to be done right. He couldn’t fuck it all up.
Then again, who said there was anything to fuck up in the first place? He shifted into gear, pulled out onto the road, and drove away without looking back.
If it was so easy for her, it could be just as damn easy for him.
Chapter Eighteen
Shelby paced in front of her cracked door, biting her nail and checking the clock for the millionth time. Midnight. Eric was supposed to be done working and at her place by eight. Her calls had gone unanswered, and her texts had gone unread, and she had no idea what the heck was going on. It wasn’t a good feeling. The pit of her stomach was in knots, and she couldn’t get a full breath no matter how hard she tried.
She wasn’t much for worrying needlessly, or coming up with what if scenarios in her head, but what if something had happened to him? She couldn’t think of another reason for him not to show up, and for him not to answer her texts. After the mover had come and given her a quote, she’d gotten cold feet and had called them to tell them to hold off on filing the paperwork until tomorrow morning. It was about two glasses into a bottle of wine that she realized why:
She didn’t want to leave anymore.
What she had with Eric was special, the type of thing that you only found once in a lifetime, and she didn’t want to walk away from it. That was why she hadn’t told him about the job. Deep down, she already knew she didn’t want to take it. She wanted to stay here.
With him.
He was a man who would never hold her successes against her, a man who she could trust to keep his word when he said something to her, and that was invaluable. But the main reason she didn’t want to leave him wasn’t logical at all. It was a matter of the heart.
Despite her promises, she’d gone and fallen in love with him. She’d planned on telling him that tonight, but then he didn’t show up.
Where was he? She paced back to the door again, opening it and searching the hallway as if she expected him to pop up and shout, ha-ha, I got you!
He didn’t.
Squinting toward the elevator, she spotted what looked like a wrapped bouquet of red roses with baby’s breath. Pretty generic, sure, but they were her favorite, and why would someone throw away a perfectly good bunch of flowers? She walked toward them, dread filling her heart as she got closer. As she reached out for them, the elevator doors opened, scaring her half to death.
She leaped back, pressing a hand to her heart, and gasped, taking it all in.
Shiny black shoes. Black pants. A light-green dress shirt that was halfway undone. A striped green and black tie that was pulled loosely around a muscular neck she would recognize anywhere. He was as breathtakingly handsome as always, but that wasn’t what took the breath out of her lungs. His cheeks were flushed, and he was being supported by another man because he couldn’t stand on his own. He stumbled forward a little bit, then came into the hallway, blinking like he didn’t know where the heck he was. A man was with him, one she recognized just as easily as Wyatt Hamilton, starting quarterback of the Saviors…and Eric’s brother.
He supported Eric’s weight, grunting when he almost hit the floor. “Jesus, man, stand straight.”
“I am,” Eric slurred, grinning slightly.
So that was why he hadn’t called her. He’d been out with his brother. Relief hit her, followed by amusement at how far gone he was. Apparently, he couldn’t keep up with the star athlete.
Clearing her throat, she prepared to introduce herself.
Wyatt looked up, locked eyes with her, and froze. He held a hand up, struggling to keep Eric upright. “I love fans, I do. Right now isn’t a good time, though. I have to help my brother. Next time, okay?”
“I don’t want your autograph. I want him.” She hesitated. “Is Eric okay?”
“You know him?” Wyatt asked in relief. “Thank God. I haven’t been to his place in years, and I don’t remember what number his apartment is. Is this even his floor?”
Eric looked at her, stiffening. “You’re supposed to be sleeping.”
Wyatt glanced at his brother, then her, understanding dawning. “You’re her?”
Wait. He’d told his brother about her?
If so, why was he looking at her like she was a monster, instead of the woman his brother was dating? Hesitating, she held her hand out. “Hi. I’m Shelby Jefferson. Nice to meet you.”
Wyatt stared at her hand for a second, then reached out and shook it. He let go immediately. “Yeah. Likewise. Anyway, his apartment?”
“It’s over here, but if you want you can put him in my apartment. I’ll take care of him.”
Wyatt hesitated. “I don’t think that’s a good idea. He’s pretty—”
“No.” Eric straightened, looking a heck of a lot soberer than he had moments before. “Absolutely not. Don’t put me in there, Wyatt.”
“I won’t,” Wyatt said, his voice softening.
Her heart twisted. “Why not?”
“Because I don’t want to be with you,” Eric said flatly, his jaw harder even than the way he looked at her. “Clearly.”
She reared back, pain piercing her chest.
His nostrils flared at her shocked silence, and he looked at her like she was nothing. Nobody. “Go home, Shelby.”
She tried telling herself he was drunk, and clearly not thinking straight, but in her experience, the truth usually came out when a man was drunk and he had no filter.
The words just came.
“What’s gotten into you?” she asked, fisting her hands.
“You. You’ve gotten into me.”
Wyatt flinched and started walking, dragging Eric along. “Come on. Stop talking before you say something you’ll regret. Let’s go.”
She blinked, stepping out of their way. “Excuse me?”
“You heard me, baby,” said Eric.
Her jaw dropped.
“Baby?”
“Yeah. Baby.” He stared at her mutinously as they passed. “I—”
“Enough, Eric.” Wyatt offered her a tight, apologetic smile. “He’s really drunk and doesn’t know what he’s saying. You should go home. I’ve got him.”
She started to nod, still hurt, but knowing he was right. “I’ll check on him—”
“Don’t. Don’t check on me.”
Wyatt rolled his eyes. “Jesus Christ.”
“Like I said,” she finished, spitting out every word. “I’ll check on him in the morning.”
“Give him time to sober up first,” Wyatt advised.
“Stop talking like I’m not here. I know what the fuck I’m saying.” He locked eyes with Shelby. “I stayed away until you were supposed to be asleep for a reason. Go to bed and leave me the hell alone, okay?”
Shelby flinched.
Wyatt dragged him forward. “Shut up, Eric.”
“I—” Eric cut off when Wyatt elbowed him hard and whispered something in his ear. He frowned, but didn’t finish the thought. “Third door on the left.”
“All right. Let’s get you in bed,” Wyatt said, grunting as he supported his brother down the hallway. As they passed Shelby, Wyatt glanced her way. “I’ll take care of him, okay?”
Shelby nodded once, confused about why Eric was pushing her away and not liking the way it made her feel at all. She was…she felt…empty.
As his brother unlocked his door, Eric leaned on the wall, staring at her. When their gazes collided, he fisted his hands and stared back, looking at her like she was a complete stranger.
What had she done to make him so angry?
Last they’d spoken, they’d been naked in bed. He’d just given her three orgasms, and the world had held a rosy hue. As she rolled toward him, he’d smiled, pushed her hair out of her face, and kissed her gently. “I have to go to work,” he’d said with regret.
She had an appointment with a mover scheduled anyway, so she’d simply nodded. “Will you come by after?”
“Nothing could keep me away,” he whispered, kissing her again. As he pulled back, he’d whispered, “See you around eight?”
They’d kissed, and he reluctantly got out of bed, naked. As he made his way toward his clothes, he’d asked, “Did you hear anything about any jobs yet?”
Just like that, she’d frozen. She should have told him the truth, should have told him she got an offer, but instead, she’d said, “Nope. Not yet.”
Smiling, he’d threaded his hand in her hair, leaned down, and whispered, “You’ll get an offer soon. I’m sure of it.”
With that, he’d kissed her and walked away.
She’d let him, without telling him the truth.
The sound of Eric’s door closing snapped her out of the past and into the confusing present. She started toward her place but stopped after two steps. Slowly, she turned her head and looked at those flowers…the ones she’d seen before Eric came home drunk. She’d forgotten about them the second she saw Eric, but suddenly they were all she could think about.
He was angry at her. To the best of her knowledge, she hadn’t done anything wrong besides accept a job—which he didn’t know she’d done in the first place. But what if…?
What if he knew, and was pissed?
What if he showed up earlier and found out she’d lied this morning and had indeed gotten a job offer? Would that be enough to make him so angry at her? There was only one way to find out if he’d shown up at her place earlier and overheard her conversation with the moving company.
She needed to look at the flowers.
As she walked over to them, her pounded harder with every step she took. Reaching out, she saw the card nestled in between the stems.
Whichever way you fall, I’ll catch you.
–E
Swallowing hard, she picked them out of the trash, staring at the handwritten card. It was the perfect note, just like she’d thought he was the perfect guy.
Tightening her grip on the roses, she marched toward her apartment, anger chasing away her confusion and pain at his actions. So. He wanted to tell her he was on her side, that he’d never try to hold her back, but the second she actually had an offer, he abandoned ship and got drunk? All those things he’d said about being happy for her if she got a job…
Lies. All lies.
In the end, he was just like every other guy out there.
Selfish.
Chapter Nineteen
Eric woke up slowly.
Painfully.
It felt like someone had stuck a million pins through his eyelids, holding them in place so he couldn’t open them. He swore there was an actual jackhammer pounding against his skull, too. Jesus, how much had he drunk last night, and why had Wyatt let him? All he remembered was driving to his parent’s house, picking up a bottle of his dad’s favorite whiskey, and then sitting in the chair by the fireplace to wait for his brother.
After that first glass of whiskey, the rest of the night became a blur. Groaning, he sat up and looked around. He was in his bed. Alone. That was a good start to the morning.
“You’re alive,” Wyatt said drily from his left.
Screamed from his left was more like it.
“Sh.” Eric massaged his temples. “Don’t fucking shout.”
Shaking his head, Wyatt stood and picked up a glass of water. Holding it out, he shoved three white pills into his hand. “Drink this and take these.”
Eric didn’t argue.
As long as they stopped his head from feeling like it was being crushed slowly and agonizingly, he didn’t even give a damn what the hell they were. He swallowed them, grimacing as the water hit his unsettled stomach. Lying back against the pillows, he sighed and closed his eyes as his brother took the water out of his hand. “What the hell happened last night?”
“You tried to drink until you forgot,” Wyatt said, irony in his voice. “I’m guessing at some point, you realized you’d never forget and just drank for the hell of it.”
“Why didn’t you stop me?” he asked, pressing a hand against his forehead.
“By the time I got to Mom and Dad’s, you were already a bottle into your night.” He sat on the edge of the bed. “I got stuck in traffic, and it took me longer than expected.”
“Shit,” he mumbled. “Did they see me?”
“No. They weren’t home.”
“Thank God.” He touched his stomach. “If I had to listen to one more lecture from Mom about the merits of drinking sensibly, I would have needed another bottle to make it through.”
Wyatt grunted, saying nothing else.
“Thanks for bringing me home, and for staying. You didn’t need to do that.”
“Actually, I did.” He eyed Eric, rubbing his jaw. “You tried to leave your place to go fight with her at least ten times before you finally passed out. Someone had to stop you before you ruined everything with your drunken anger.”
Damn. He’d tried his best to stay away before he fucked up everything. Good thing his brother had stopped him. Despite his anger over her failing to tell him about her job, he was happy for her, and he’d keep his word. He’d be the guy who didn’t get upset because his girl was leaving.
Even if it killed him.
He was pretty damn sure it would.
“Thanks, man.” He dragged his hands down his face. “I’m glad I didn’t see her last night. I could have ruined everything if I did.”
Wyatt hesitated. “Well…”
“Shit.” He dropped his hands down to his lap. “What did I do?”
“We ran into her in the hallway, and you were kind of an asshole.” Wyatt shrugged. “From what you told me, she’s leaving anyway, so it might be for the best. It could be a clean, easy cut.”
“I don’t want a clean, easy cut.” He struggled to his feet, stumbling only a little bit. “I need to go see her. What did I say?”
“Nothing too bad,” Wyatt said, watching him curiously. “Just that you wanted
her to go to bed and leave you alone. She knew you were drunk, so I think she shrugged it off.”
“Shit. No, she didn’t.”
“Again, she’s leaving,” Wyatt said unnecessarily. “So why all the stress?”
“Because I love her, damn it,” Eric snapped. “Have you ever been in love before?”
Wyatt clammed up, staring at him like he’d seen a ghost. “What’s that matter?”
“Because when you love someone, it doesn’t matter how far away they may or may not be moving. You still love them,” he said slowly, fisting his hands at his sides.
Wyatt stared.
Just stared.
After a while, he swallowed. “Well, if she really loves you, too, then I’m guessing she’ll forgive you. I think that’s also what love is all about. Forgiving.”
“I hope so,” Eric managed to say. “I’m going to shower, brush my teeth, get dressed, and go make sure I didn’t fuck everything up.”
Wyatt nodded.
Eric cleaned himself up at record speeds, and the whole time he stood under the water, letting it wash away the lingering dregs of the hangover he was sporting, he pictured Shelby’s face. A flash of her looking at him with pain in her eyes came to him, and he hoped like hell it wasn’t an actual memory, but rather a figment of his drunken imagination.
He fisted his hand, leaned it against the wall, and rested his forehead on the cold tile next to it. He’d finally met a woman who made him come out of his shell, who made him feel, and he went and fucked it up with a bottle or two of whiskey. “Shit.”
Turning off the water, he stepped out, dried off, and got dressed.
When he came out, he was expecting to find out that Wyatt left, but instead his brother greeted him with coffee and an omelet. Eric froze, lifting a brow. “What the hell, man?”
Wyatt shrugged a shoulder. “A guy should never grovel on an empty stomach.”
He took the plate, smiling slightly, and headed toward the table. “Thanks.” The food smelled delicious, and the coffee smelled even better. He was in a rush to go to Shelby and apologize, but Wyatt had a point. It might be best done on a full stomach, with a belly full of caffeine. “Have you groveled before, then?”
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