If I had taken sandpaper to my eyes, it would feel better than they do right now. It’s probable that I’m dehydrated from the sheer amount of crying I’ve done over the last few days. Penny tried to stay with me, but I made her leave. No one else needs to witness my shame. I can barely stomach my own company as it is.
No matter how many times I replay the night in the club, I cannot make sense of it. Not once in the last three years has it even occurred to me that I wanted anyone other than Dare. I can barely recall the guy’s face, and the thought of him touching me now makes my skin crawl. The amount of scrubbing myself raw in the shower has done nothing to alleviate the filthy feeling. If only I could scrub my insides.
Dare deserves better than what I did to him. I wrap myself in one of his hoodies and curl up on the sofa to wait for him. I know before he even walks in the door that it’s over. We won’t come back from this. I have destroyed the most important thing in the world to me.
The seriesin LA dragged on for what felt like years, so I’m practically vibrating with energy as we get off the bus at the Sea Scorpions stadium. I’ve barely heard from Harlan, and I’m doing my level best not to be angry at him for ignoring me this weekend. He responded to my texts with short answers, and I finally got him to talk to me last night before bed. He was quiet, and the conversation lasted only a few minutes before he said good night. I tried reaching out to Penelope, but she didn’t answer. Nella and Enrique couldn’t get an earlier flight, so I’m entering this situation completely blind.
It’s raining, and the first signs of autumn are officially appearing. I would normally take the time to appreciate that, but I hardly register the faint smell of leaves in the air. I don’t even bother with goodbyes to the team before I’m loading my luggage in the back of my car and flying out of the parking lot. The need to be home with Harlan is a crushing weight on my chest. I impatiently navigate traffic, cursing every light I hit on the way.
There’s a spot almost directly in front of our brownstone, and I quickly maneuver into it. I open the door as I turn the car off, hurrying to grab my luggage. The lights in the foyer are off when I step inside, and I’m met with total silence. I leave my suitcase and duffel bag near the stairs so I can deal with them later and toss my shoes on the shoe rack. Adrenaline is coursing through me, and I find my hands shaking.
I didn’t bother to let Harlan know I was leaving the stadium, but he knew when we were landing. I’m unsure what I expected when I walked in, but a dark, silent house was not it.
“Harlan?” I call for him as I walk to the living room. He’s curled up in a blanket in the corner of the couch. For a second, I think he’s asleep, but he sits up when I approach.
I sit on the ottoman across from him, neither of us saying anything. I want to pull him into my arms and kiss him, but something about his demeanor is off, like a repellent. I study his face, but he won't meet my eyes, and a wave of unease settles over me. What the fuck is happening? “Lan?”
“We need to talk.” His voice is hoarse, like he’s been crying or screaming. I reach out to touch his knee and he flinches, pulling away. “Don’t,” he pleads. His shoulders start to shake. My brain is struggling to understand what’s going on.
“Baby?” I refrain from reaching for him again, but it goes against every protective urge I have. The desire to hold him is strong, but the energy in the room feels explosive. Not in the way I’m used to with him. More like whatever he’s about to say is going to change everything in such a permanent and terrible way. I take a deep breath and wait for him.
“I cheated on you.” I can’t be sure I heard him right, because Lan would never. He doesn’t repeat himself, and I’m reeling. “Thursday night, when Pen and I went to the club, I got really drunk.” Tears are flowing down his beautiful face, but he still won’t look at me. My body wants so desperately to comfort him,but nothing right now makes sense. I feel my heart breaking as I absorb his confession. Keeping my hands grasped tightly in my lap, I watch in real time while my world falls apart. I find myself fighting for air, and rage and devastation battle for dominance over which will suffocate me first.
“I…” I don’t know what to say. “Who was it?” My voice is shaky and uncertain. I don’t even want to know who it was. The thought that someone else touched him has bile rising in my throat.
I’m taken back to my first year in the MLB. My college boyfriend and I wanted to give long-distance a chance. We had been together for a little over a year, and the thought of breaking up didn’t appeal to either of us. We had so many conversations, promising to be honest if it started to feel like too much. It was hard, but we were making it work. Well,Iwas making it work. Instead of coming to me like he promised, Matt started sleeping with someone else. I found him in bed with a guy when I showed up, unannounced, to surprise him.
When Matt realized he was caught, he blamed me for my schedule and never having time for him. Guilt ate at me for so long after that, it didn’t seem worth getting into a new relationship. Baseball wouldn’t be forever. I could worry about dating when I retired. I was content with that life until I met Harlan. The moment I laid eyes on him, I knew he was special. That together we would create something special. How can the person in front of me be the same one I fell in love with?
“Does it matter?” He doesn’t sound defensive, more like resigned. And no, I guess it doesn’t. “It was a guy at the club. We danced, and he bought me a drink. I don’t know his name. I don’t deserve your forgiveness, Darío, but I am so fucking sorry.” He’s crying harder. His sobs are relentless as he struggles to take in a full breath.
“Did you fuck him?” The thought that he let someone else have that part of him has me retching. Unwelcome images of a random guy fucking the love of my life fill my head. My vision blurs as fury settles in my bones.
“No, I didn’t fuck him. I gave him a blow job in the bathroom. I didn’t leave the club with him. I have sat here all weekend trying to figure out how to tell you. I’m so fucked up over this visa situation. And god, that’s no excuse. I was selfish and shitty.” Harlan’s hands are twisting in his lap, and he still won’t look at me, which only infuriates me further. He made a choice. Alcohol or not, he chose that, knowing what it would do to me.
“Did you stop to think aboutme, Harlan?” My hands are fisted at my sides, and another wave of anger washes over me. “Youknowwhat Matt did. Youknowhow important trust is to me. I’ve been a fucking wreck since I got your text. And you were so wrapped up inyourfeelings that you went and whored yourself out at a fucking club while I’m falling apart at the fucking seams.” I’m on my feet and flipping the ottoman before I can rein in my temper. The crash of the furniture does nothing to ease the hurt and rage coursing through me right now.
“Dare.” Harlan doesn’t move to get up, but I spin to face him. He recoils at my movement. If I weren’t so angry, I would feel guilty for scaring him. I would never put my hands on him. What Matt did to me, the way I felt after that, is nothing compared to this. Harlan ripping out my heart with a rusty knife would hurt less. This is nothing like Matt at all. This pain, this betrayal, is sharp, breathtaking. Brutal. Fuck. What do I do with this?
“No. Don’t fucking ‘Dare’ me. I’ve given you fucking everything, Harlan. This weekend was the worst of my life, and all I could think about was how I needed to get home and be whatyouneeded me to be because Iknowthis is harder for you than it is for me. Iknowthat, and I fucking hate that I can’t do anything about it. You are so fucking selfish. I can’t even look atyou. You let another man touch you.” I stop screaming and take a deep breath, my chest heaving. My throat is raw, but I welcome the pain. “We’re done. I’m done. That’s what you wanted, right? Well, you win, Harlan. I hope it was worth it.”
I wish I could take back the last fifteen minutes of my life and not walk through that door. Go back to a time when I thought the world of Harlan. When I never would have imagined a time that this man, the one I love so completely, so fucking deeply, could decimate my heart with four fucking words.I cheated on you.I think I may be sick.
He’s shaking his head, his beautiful face contorted in pain. He wears his emotions all over his features. It’s something I’ve always adored about him. He’s an open book. But I don’t know this Harlan. This isn’t supposed to be our story, and I don’t know how to deal with this. “It wasn’t. Of course it wasn’t,” he whispers.
I swipe my hand across the shelves hanging on the walls, sending picture frames, trophies, and anything else in my way flying across the room. The sound of glass shattering is the perfect soundtrack to the undoing of our relationship. Irreparable, jagged, deafening. The pieces will never fit together the way they did before. It was so perfect, and somehow, it was so fucking fragile. So easy to break. Despite the intense desire to avoid him, I look to find him sitting with his head in his hands. Like I’m the one who just brokehisfucking heart. I can’t be in this house with him, but I don’t have a choice. My brother and sister are flying in tomorrow morning.
Before I say something I’ll regret, I leave the living room and climb the stairs, the nausea threatening to undo me. When I reach the bathroom, the smell of his soap is everywhere, and I gag. I barely make it to the toilet before the meal I had on the plane comes up. When my stomach is empty, I dry heave and sob on the floor until I get the energy to drag myself into the shower.I sit on the floor under the spray until the water runs cold. I welcome the way the frigid water numbs my body, but it does nothing for my heart. The sound of the bedroom door opening as I wrap a towel around my waist gives me pause.
When I enter the bedroom, Harlan is sitting on the bed. “Get out, Harlan. Just get the fuck out. You can stay in one of the spare rooms. Or on the couch. Or maybe you can find your friend from the club.” I can’t even look at this stranger. This version of Harlan is not the one who tackles me after we win a game. The one who bakes the best chocolate chip cookies. The man who wraps himself around me like an octopus when we go to bed each night.
“Jesus Christ, Darío. I already told you that I don’t expect you to forgive me. I was wrong. You have every right to be angry, I know that. But I can’t handle you hating me. Not right now. I’m literally unraveling. I can’t…” Harlan starts to cry, and the protective desire to hold him is going to kill me. “I’m a fucking mess, Dare. I know I’m not handling this well. I know. I fucking know. No one can hate me more than I hate myself right now. I just wish you wouldn’t hate me. Please. Please don’t hate me.”
“That’s the fucking kicker, Lan. I don’t hate you. You have fucking destroyed me. I would have doneanythingfor you. I was so ready to show you that I was all in and that we could make the distance work. How can I trust you after this? Things get hard, you get drunk and end up on your knees for some fucking guy.” My voice cracks, and bile rises again at the mention of that faceless stranger. I find myself sitting down next to him on our shared bed. The place where we have spent so many intimate moments. He’s everywhere in this house. I want to burn it all. Walk away and never look back.
“I’d take it back without hesitation. I’d do it differently if I could. I know that doesn’t mean anything. I was spiraling, I didn’t think.” He gets on his knees on the floor between my legs.I don’t reach for him as he looks up at me. His eyes are bloodshot and swollen. He looks like he hasn’t slept in days. He’s wearing one of my old college hoodies, and it engulfs his smaller frame. I see the man I fell in love with under the layers of sadness, but I’ve never felt more disconnected from him.
“What would you have me do, Harlan? You’re leaving. I don’t even know this version of you. Should I spend the next two weeks with you pretending it didn’t happen? The entire foundation of our relationship has been built on the need for trust. With our jobs, with how often we’re apart. We worked because we knew we could trust each other. That’s gone.Youtook that from us. Even if we could have survived the distance, we can’t survive this. I can’t.” Cupping his face, I wipe a tear from his cheek. The truth of that sinks in. Trust was the foundation for everything, and that was ruined with some guy who doesn’t even matter. I can barely meet his eyes.
