Not Leo.
Rhyse stands from the couch when he sees me and offers a hesitant smile. His handsome and put-together appearance angers me as much as his presence.
“What are you doing here?” My tone is soft and disbelieving even though inside, I feel all the bottled-up anger rising inside of me. Misguided? Probably, but he’s the perfect target.
“It was good to see you again,” my mom says and shoots me a sideways glance that says, mind your manners, before she leaves us alone.
Rhyse and I stand across the room from one another, taking the other in.
He speaks first. “I’m sorry to just show up here, but you weren’t answering my calls or texts.”
I open my mouth to tell him the reason I haven’t is because I have absolutely nothing to say to him or because he showed up here, blew up my life, and then had his team wipe away his presence in all of it, but one side of his mouth lifts in a hesitant smile, and he steps forward.
“I can still read you as well as ever. I know what you’re thinking, and you’re right. I’m so sorry. That’s why I’ve been trying to call. I’m going to make a statement explaining why I was in Minnesota.”
Well, that isn’t what I expected.
“Explain it how?” I take a seat on the couch.
“That’s up to you. I could be an old friend, an ex-boyfriend, someone you just started dating again.” He moves to sit beside me. “Give me another shot? No more hiding.”
“Your team is okay with this?”
“I didn’t give them an option.” His blue eyes search my face.
“Wow,” I say. I’m glad he’s standing up for himself, but it’s too little too late for us. He’s no longer the man I’m in love with.
“I’m too late,” he says.
Damn. He’s good. I’ve never been good at hiding my emotions. I wonder what Leo saw this morning.
“You’re truly happy with the hockey guy then?”
I nod and smash my lips together to keep them from quivering with the weight of the white lie. I was happy with Leo. Happier than I’ve ever been. I love him so much. The kind of love I dreamed of my whole life. I thought I was in love with Rhyse, but it feels small in comparison. Or maybe it’s just that too much time has passed.
Traveling the world with him was exciting. I got to see so much, and I felt so special that he chose me. I owe a lot of good memories to him. They outweigh the bad by a lot. I hope for his sake he really is ready to stand up to his team and live his life, but it won’t have me in it.
I wanted Rhyse to blow up his life to make room for me, and he didn’t. Now Leo is doing just that and I broke up with him to stop him. Rhyse wasn’t wrong. Maybe I just didn’t love him enough to realize what I was asking of him.
“I’m sorry,” I say.
“You’re sorry?” Full lips exhale with a long breath. “I’m the idiot that let you walk away.”
“I understand better now why you made the choices you did. I hope you let yourself have everything you want.”
“Yeah. Me too.” He runs a hand along his jaw.
“Can I ask you a question?”
“Anything.”
“Why now? You’ve spent years letting other people dictate your life. What’s changed?”
He’s quiet for a beat. The leather of his jacket creaks as he rubs at the back of his neck. “I don’t know. I probably should have done it years ago, but I was winning.” He chuckles quietly. “Am winning. I’m having the best season of my life. I’m on track to beat my dad’s record.”
“I heard, or I read. Congratulations.”
“Yeah, thanks.”
Beating his dad’s record and proving himself consumed Rhyse while we were together. I doubt that’s changed. I think he has a long way to go before he has complete control of his life, and that makes me sad for him.
“It won’t be enough,” he says. “I know that now. It won’t bring him back. Won’t change anything.” He stands abruptly and pulls an envelope from his back pocket. “Take care of yourself, Scarlett.”
The folded manilla envelope is heavy in my hands. “You too.”
I walk him to the door, and we hug awkwardly. He steps out onto the porch and then faces me one last time, lifts a hand in a small wave, and jogs to the waiting car.
I spend the rest of the day eating my feelings and watching sappy movies. And avoiding opening the envelope from Rhyse.
At dinner, Dad tugs on the end of one braid, but he doesn’t say a word about Leo. The team is leaving tomorrow for an away game, and I’m hoping the distance makes my heart hurt less. There’s something about being so close and not talking to him that makes it that much more brutal.
Later, I lie in bed and scroll through all the photos I’ve taken since I’ve been back. Friends, pets, businesses, landscapes. I’ve taken so many. Lots of them really good. But the one I fall asleep staring at is of Leo on the beach. The lighting isn’t perfect, and I didn’t center him in the frame. It isn’t even close to being the best photo I’ve taken, but the man inside of the imperfect picture smiles at the camera, at me, exactly like I always wanted someone to see me.
Jade wanted him to fuck me back on my feet. He did so much more than that.
39
B.S.
LEO
I arrive at the plane anxious to get out of town and play some hockey.
Jack falls in next to me as we walk out to the plane. We’re heading to New York for a game tonight. My captain’s face asks all the questions before he opens his mouth.
“My head is on straight,” I tell him.
“Everything worked out then?”
I consider lying, but the sardonic laugh that escapes my mouth wouldn’t make it very believable anyway. “No, everything didn’t work out.”
“You and Scarlett…” He treads carefully.
“She ended things.” My voice sounds scarily calm for the rage warring inside of me.
“I’m sorry to hear that.”
“Yeah, okay.” I give him a look that tells him I know differently. He never thought it was a good idea, and I guess I get his point, but it isn’t like I chose to fall for her. It just happened. Nothing could have stopped me after that one night together.
“What the fuck do I know?” He shrugs. “This team is my whole life.”
Jack doesn’t date, at least not seriously. I never bothered to ask why. It always made sense to me before. The schedule, the travel, and everything else that comes with the job make it an easy excuse. But now I know that he just hasn’t met the right person. Or fuck, maybe he did and screwed it up like me. Our job might make dating tricky, but we’re playmakers. We know how to make things work if we really want to.
I stew with that thought the entire flight. It isn’t like I haven’t thought about calling Scarlett before now. Last night I eventually had to turn off my phone to stop myself from texting her. But this is a different impulse. I’m going to make this work. I know she wants to be with me. Or she did before I started acting like an asshole. Step one, stop doing that. After that? I’m not sure, but I’m a playmaker, and there’s something I really want: Scarlett.
I’m on the pre-game interview list, and it’s brutal. No one outright asks about Scarlett, but I have to say “no comment” and remind them I’m only answering questions about the game more than once.
True to my words, I have my head on for the game. I push everything else out. It’s cathartic in a way, not allowing anything else in for a few hours. Avoidance? Probably. But it works.
At least until we hit the locker room and the guys start celebrating the win, then everything else creeps back in. I check my phone for the usual texts from family congratulating me on the game. My parents might not come to the games, but they follow along. The only person missing is Scarlett. And fuck if taking one person out of the equation doesn’t screw with me.
On Tuesday, Ash and I workout in his garage after our run. I call uncle first, wiping the sweat from my forehead and lying
on the rubber floor.
“Thank fuck.” He collapses onto a box and squirts water into his mouth.
We have a three-day break in between games, and we’re spending most of our time working out at the arena and on our own. Talia is out of town, Scarlett’s gone, and it’s almost like the old days. B.S. Before Scarlett. Fitting, because it’s absolute bullshit.
“Shower and go out for dinner?” he asks.
“I don’t feel like going out.” I glance at my phone next to me as it lights up with a text. I don’t even bother reading it after I see it isn’t from Dream Girl.
We stay in, eating dinner in Ash’s living room and playing video games. I can’t focus on anything. Ash doesn’t even trash talk me when he beats me.
I toss the controller on the couch beside me. “I should probably go home.”
“It’s early. Stay, we can catch up on Ted Lasso.”
“You haven’t watched it?”
“Nah. It’s our thing,” he says and navigates to where we left off a month ago.
I was so busy with Scarlett I didn’t realize I neglected my buddy. Ash always has my back.
“Do you have any beer?”
His brows lift.
“I’m not going to blaze through a case,” I say. “Beer and Lasso, they go together like…peanut butter and jelly.”
He chuckles. “All right. Whatever you want, man.”
He comes back with two beers and hands me one. He holds it up, and I clink the neck of his with mine.
“I can’t believe you held off on watching the rest of the season,” I say as the show starts.
“Not the same without you.”
“You could have said something. I would have made time.”
He smiles. “Then what would we watch to cheer up your mopey ass?”
The next night I come back over, hoping for more of the same, but we only make it through a single episode before he gets a call, and we have to pause the show.
I’m staring down at my phone when he gets done. He must read the disappointment on my face. Another text, but still not from Scarlett.
“Nothing from her all week?” he asks.
“Nope. Radio silence. She probably blocked me again.”
“Highly doubtful. She said that she needed space not to fuck off and die.” He kicks up his feet on the coffee table. “Have you reached out?”
“I haven’t figured out what to say. Nothing has changed. I’m still me. How do I ask her to be with me, knowing what that means for her?”
“I don’t know.” He finishes off his beer and stands. “God, we’re pathetic. Come on.”
“Another run?” I ask hopefully. Three to five miles ought to clear my head again.
“Fuck no. We’re going out.”
Before I can protest, he adds, “You’re going.”
We meet up with Declan, Maverick, and Tyler at Wild’s.
“He’s alive,” Declan says when he sees us. “How are you?”
“Breathing.” I slump into the seat across from him.
“He hasn’t heard from Scarlett all week,” Ash says. “He’s shit. Hence the need for forced fun.”
My buddy pours himself and then me a beer.
“You need a plan,” Maverick says. “Do you have a plan?”
“If he did, he wouldn’t be here.” Tyler lifts a brow, begging me to argue.
“What’s the problem?” Declan asks. “The news has died down. You stayed out of jail. Though I’m a little disappointed you didn’t have mug shots taken. Can you imagine how awful those would have been? A normal person can’t take a good one of those.”
I flip him off but can’t help but smile. It eases a little of the hurt in my chest. These guys are like my own little dysfunctional family, and I wouldn’t have it any other way.
“She deserves more than being called a slut every time she’s seen out with me or watching me get carted off to jail and leaving her alone on our date.”
“Fuck that noise,” Declan says, tone hard as he sits forward.
We all stare at him. He’s so chill and quiet most of the time that when he gets riled up about something, he has our undivided attention.
“You did the same thing any one of us would have. You protected your girl.”
The guys all nod.
“And she still left.” To protect me. I can’t even wrap my brain around the endless loop of that fuckery.
“Then go after her. Swallow your damn pride.” This comes from Tyler.
“What is it with you two?” I ask of the quietest two members of our team. All of a sudden they’re fired up on my behalf?
Tyler shakes his head. “She’s your dream girl?”
“Yeah.” I let out a breath.
“I had one of those, and I let her go for the same sort of bullshit reason. I regret it every single day.”
I can hear the genuine regret in his voice, and I nod. “Sorry, man.”
“It’s too late for me, but not you.”
“You know what that means then?” Maverick asks as he rubs his hands together.
“What?” Ash asks for all of us.
Maverick dances in his seat. “It’s time to come up with a plan.”
I appreciate their interest and enthusiasm. Though I leave the bar without a solid plan, I’m more determined to find a way through this. I don’t want to live with regret.
At home, I fall into bed. Exhaustion falls over me from a long day of pushing my body and staying occupied. She took all of her stuff, but I still feel her and my bed smells like her shampoo.
I pull out my phone to text her, but I have no idea what to say. I’m sorry. I fucked up. Both things are true, but I know it isn’t enough.
The next day Coach asks me to hang back after the morning skate. Ash sends me a pitying glance as he skates off with the rest of the guys.
I’ve talked to him since the breakup. In fact, the very next morning, I sought him out as soon as I got to the arena, so I could tell him about the altercation at the brewery. I left out the awful things that fuckface said about his daughter, but I didn’t want him to hear that I hit a guy and went to jail from someone else. If Scarlett had already told him, he didn’t let on.
He nodded and asked if I needed a day or two off after our New York game, which I adamantly refused, and since then, it’s been business as usual.
I’m definitely hoping to earn back his trust and respect and wear the A again, but I don’t blame him for taking it from me.
So far, there hasn’t been any blowback from the almost arrest. A local gossip rag ran a small article about a fight involving one or more of the Wildcat Hockey players, but they must not have been able to get anyone to comment because the details were vague.
“Tomorrow night after the game, we’re doing some extended interviews. More reporters, longer sessions.” He rests his hands on his hips. “I’ve added you to the list to be available. I can probably work it so that you go last. It’ll give you a clean out.”
“Not necessary. I can handle it.” I wipe the sweat out of my eyes. “Anything else?”
“Just one more thing.” He shifts his weight from one leg to the other. “I wanted to thank you.”
“For?”
He makes a clicking sound with his tongue before he speaks. “Things may not have worked out between the two of you, but the past couple of months, Scarlett has smiled more than I can remember since she’s been back. I think that was your doing.”
Like a dagger to the heart. Fuuuck.
I clear the lump in my throat but still don’t trust my voice, so I nod.
“You’re a good kid, Leo.” He claps me on the shoulder. “Keep your head up.”
40
MANIFESTING MY DREAMS
SCARLETT
“No regrets?” Jade asks as I read the sports headlines. She forced me out of the house, and I’m going with her to scout out another possible story.
“About Rhyse?” I ask as his face stares back at me on the screen o
f my phone.
“Yeah. I know how much you cared about him.”
I shake my head. “It never would have worked between us.”
Also, I’m not so sure his team is going to make it that easy on him now that he’s ready to call his own shots. He took the first step, though.
Yesterday’s top headline reads, Women of the world rejoice, playboy Rhyse Fletcher is still single. The short article explains his recent trip to Minnesota to visit an old friend and former staff photographer and says he’s not currently dating, so he can focus on bringing his team another win.
Okay, so it’s basically the same verbiage they’ve been using in every article ever written about him, but I feel more confident than I ever did before that my title, old friend, could have been girlfriend if I’d given him another shot.
And...I finally got credit for all of the images I took of him that his team used. When I finally braved the manila envelope, I found a letter of reference from his social media manager, recommending me and detailing the metrics and reach my photos garnered for Rhyse. I never cared that they used them, but seeing my name under the photo on this news story is pretty damn cool.
And today, for the first time in a week, I don’t have a single Google alert, notifying me of a news article written about me and all my whore-ways (major eye roll).
Rhyse inspired me, though. It’s time to start living my life the way I want without worrying about the headlines. The impact of those headlines on the people I care about will always matter, but I’m not going to hide.
“I was thinking it’s time for me to come out of hiding,” I say.
“We’re hiding?” She looks around.
“Online.”
“Ooooh. Really?”
“Nothing crazy,” I say. “I thought I’d start by making my Instagram profile public. It’s mostly photos I’ve taken from traveling or with friends, but it’s a little piece of me that I think I’m willing to share.
I don’t feel like I owe anyone anything, but I am tired of feeling like I need to hide behind the curtain.
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