“You didn’t do that,” Naomi pointed out, rather unhelpfully.
“She’s protecting herself. Her mom just died, and you…” Millie’s voice dropped. “You didn’t even take her out on actual dates.”
“Which made it easy for her to think she wasn’t important to you,” Keelie added. “Though that clearly isn’t the case.”
I blinked at the women surrounding me as I gradually processed their words, my blood running cold. By swallowing my feelings instead of airing them, I’d created the space between Zaila and me. At the time, I’d thought it best to focus on the team, but I’d failed Zaila—failed to show my grieving woman that she was the center of my existence. She needed that reassurance right now, after losing her parents. She’d been reeling before we left for Sweden and all those fears rushed back when we returned to Houston—with good reason. I hadn’t made Zaila feel like she belonged with me—to me—as I’d said I would. She’d been able to doubt that I loved her because I hadn’t told people I did.
I didn’t just love her, though. I needed her. But I hadn’t shown her how much—not in the ways she needed to see and feel it.
Swallowing the lump of frustration and self-directed anger proved difficult, but I managed—barely. I’d made a point to talk to Ida Jane about how Zaila’s early years of abandonment had affected her, and yet, I’d let my concern for a business, for public appearances, take precedence. At least that’s how Zaila took it, from what she’d said earlier.
My priorities were skewed, and I hadn’t pushed firmly enough for what I knew was right. I’d let fear when she questioned us, even a little, take hold. When Zaila asked for us to remain professional in public, I’d failed to realize that she was as afraid of us, of our future, of me leaving her, as it seemed I was of her leaving and hurting me.
I pursed my lips as I flipped back through all our interactions. I’d never told her that I considered her my equal, that I wanted her by my side during meetings, downtime, and kayak rides, as well as complex negotiations, not just in my bed. I’d never once told her that every time she smiled at me, her eyes bright, I felt whole. Like I deserved a family—like she was my family.
While I’d waffled, other people had planted doubt in her head. I’d let her worry she was temporary, dispensable, when she was the one person I couldn’t imagine losing.
Now, I worried I had.
The thought scraped my insides raw. The minute I could get out of here, I was heading to Zaila’s house, and I wouldn’t hold back. I’d fight for her—with every word, every gesture, every damn thing I had.
Because the truth was simple: the Wildcatters, the franchise, the wins—they were pieces of my life. But Zaila? She was what made me feel whole. And I wanted to do—be—the same for her.
Ida Jane sank into a crouch beside my chair, her manicure of team-colored polish noticeable as she wrapped her fingers around the armrest. “We’ve all been there. You think you’re prepared, you think you have it all together, but then you get hit with the biggest board slam of them all: a love that means you have to go all in or lose everything.”
Paloma shuddered. “That’s terrifying—giving someone else control over your happiness. After my boys grew up, I was afraid to love again. Even once I met Trix—that’s Silas’s, and now my, daughter—I struggled with letting myself love her.” Her smile warmed. “Thankfully, that girl is simply too lovable to hold back. By the end of the first day with them, I was a goner.”
“You’re doing a version of what Pax did,” Hana said. “You decided the solution for her without actually talking it out.” She seemed to be the most emotionally lethal of the group, which wasn’t fair.
Why was it always the quiet ones?
“I wouldn’t have ever walked away from her,” I exclaimed.
“You did yesterday,” Naomi said.
“And you’ve been really aloof at the wedding,” Keelie added.
I opened my mouth, then shut it.
“I’m going to make an educated guess here, since I’m the licensed therapist,” Ida Jane began.
“You work with kids,” I mumbled.
“And since you’re acting like one, you’re within my wheelhouse,” she shot back.
No wonder Maxim was so enamored with his wife; she had a backbone of steel.
“Now, as I was saying, my hypothesis is that you believe you deserve to be alone just as much as Zaila’s afraid of being left all alone.”
I stared at her for a long minute. No one moved, no one seemed to breathe.
“I was sure I deserved to suffer when I was hurt in that car accident,” Hana offered. “That I was being punished for not being the woman Pax needed or deserved.”
“Not unlike you losing your parents, who were on the way to your hockey game,” Paloma said. She patted my clenched fist.
“And I have to assume losing your brother, Karl, a few years later made it easy to ice people out,” Millie said. “I thought that’s what you were doing with me until I realized that’s just how you move through life.”
I remained silent, digesting what they’d said, how I’d let my coping mechanisms lead me to loneliness, regret, and heartbreak. This emotional place sucked, and I’d figured most of that out myself, but having these wise women shove it in my face as they empathized with me and Zaila made it all click: I had to tell Zaila the whole ugly truth.
