“Okay.” I squeeze his hand. “Sure.”
* * *
When we return to the hotel, Dylan sits down on the bed and pats the empty spot next to him. “I never wanted to retell this story,” he says. “To anyone.”
I sit cross-legged and face him. “I know that feeling.”
He nods, already looking lost in his own thoughts. “Five years ago, when I was new to L.A. and to the Cougars, I started dating a woman. Her name was Annabella.”
I widen my eyes. “Was that woman back at the restaurant…”
He’s already shaking his head. “Not the same woman. But I haven’t heard the name since, so it startled me.”
He takes a deep breath. “We dated for a few months, and we were exclusive, but we both knew it wasn’t going anywhere long-term. We weren’t in love, and I knew our relationship would eventually run its course, but we were friends. We were both new to L.A., and we were both lonely, and I enjoyed her company. Except she hated—and I mean hated—my job.”
I furrow my brow. “She didn’t like sports?”
“No, she didn’t, but it was what came with my job that she really despised. The cameras, the fans, the attention—it made her really uncomfortable. She was fine with any planned photos, but when we were taken by surprise, she always hated the way she looked in those pictures. And she didn’t like reading about herself in any interviews I did. I didn’t know better yet to avoid talking about my personal life.”
I nod as I remember how he refused to discuss anything about his private life with that reporter.
“She really hated social media trolls, though, and how cruel they could be. I tried to shield her from all of it as best I could, but as you’ve already seen, some of it is unavoidable.”
“Of course.”
“She begged me to quit.”
“What?!” I shake my head. “How could she possibly ask something like that of you?”
“Like I said, she didn’t want that part of me, the part of me that comes with a public face and public obligations. Of course, I told her quitting wasn’t an option for me; I was only twenty-three years old, and it was my first year in the league. I was still building my career. She said she wanted to keep dating anyway. I tried to end things with her then, but she begged me not to give up so soon. So I agreed to try a little longer. I shouldn’t have agreed, but I did.”
His expression turns so dark it looks like a thundercloud settled in over his head.
“Dylan?” A feeling of dread hits my stomach. “What happened then?”
“I had an away game. In Arizona, actually. Up in Phoenix. The game didn’t go well, and we lost badly. Social media started talking shit about how maybe if I weren’t in a relationship I would throw more touchdowns. The usual crap, but it was a direct shot at the woman I was dating. When I came home, a squad car was waiting for me at the airport. The cops wanted to make sure they told me first before I learned about it some other way…”
He locks eyes with me when he says, “Annabella had tried to commit suicide.”
“Oh, God. Oh, Dylan…” I reach for him, but he holds up his hand like he has to finish the story. “She didn’t succeed, thank God. A friend found her at her apartment in time. I’ll always thank the Lord for that blessing. Because she’s a good person, Annabella. She was sick, though, and nobody knew. She’d been on medication before for depression, but the doctors learned after her attempt that she’s bipolar, and the meds she was on weren’t hitting the right buttons to help her.”
“How awful. Is she…” I trail off, afraid to continue the question.
“She’s alive,” Dylan confirms, his dark eyes filled with a thousand different emotions, all of them pain. “The one good thing I did was I was able to cover it up with the press. It never got out that she was mentally ill, and she was able to leave L.A. quietly and go home to Iowa to heal in peace. And she’s healthier now. I check in with her mom now and again. I haven’t seen or spoken to Annabella in years. Her family agreed that was what was best for her.”
My heart breaks for him. He actually thinks it’s his fault.
“What happened is not because of you or your career, Dylan,” I say firmly. “You know that right?”
He shrugs. “Colt’s tried to tell me a million times. I just think that if my job hadn’t been so overwhelming, it might not have pushed her to do something so drastic. Or if I’d ended things with her sooner, before the gossip really got to her…”
“No,” I say as I reach over and lace his fingers with mine. “She was sick. She needed help. And yes, people, especially online assholes who can hide behind a computer screen, can be incredibly callous and cold-hearted. Brutal, really. I get it. I do, but none of that is your fault. She could have dated anybody in the public eye and been faced with the same scrutiny. And to try to take her…” I inhale. “She must have been in a great deal of pain, a pain that you couldn’t have saved her from.”
He runs his thumb over the top of my hand. “I didn’t want to ruin our time here. I wasn’t going to tell you. But…”
I lean closer to him. “But what?”
“I trust you.” He brushes his knuckles against my cheek. “You’re the only person I’ve told simply because I wanted to. And I guess I felt like I needed to because…”
