“Okay.”
Then he hung up.
I couldn’t sit in the room. It was too small and too stifling. My chest hurt, like someone was sitting on it, and my heart raced.Is this a panic attack?I stumbled into the hallway and knocked on the door closest to the elevator. Our coach’s. He didn’t look happy when he saw me, but his face changed to worry. “Brigham, what happened?”
“Can I…” I swallowed. “I need to talk to you.”
“Sure, sure. Come in.”
He pushed the door open and I fell into to red armchair. “I’m fucked. Totally fucked. And I didn’t do anything wrong. Baseball is my life. I can’t… It’s going to end.”
“Tell me about it. Take a breath. We’ll figure something out.”
And I told him everything. All of it, while he listened, and instead of sympathy or worry in his eyes, he had a fire. It was the spark of hope I needed to not fall apart, and I clung to it.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Sarah
Megan and Ethan showing up at Mr. Alexandre’s apartment the next morning with two bottles of champagne could’ve been a good sign. Morning mimosas were almost always a good idea. But their pale and grim faces when I opened the door had every part of my body on high alert.
“You okay?” Megan asked, barging into the place and taking off the foil from the bottle. “Fuck. I’m pissed.”
“Uh, what happened?” I frowned as Ethan gave me a solemn look, like there was a huge joke at my expense. I gripped the edge of the door tighter at her statement. “Why are you both here looking at me like someone died?”
“You haven’t heard.”
“Again, Megan, no. I clearly haven’t,” I snapped, hating the dread that weighed down each step like I was walking through a pit of quicksand. “Tell me.”
“Brigham was photographed with beers and chicks. Last night. In Miami.” She hissed and popped the cork, handing the bottle straight to me. “Drink.”
“No.” I held up my hand, shoving it away, and shook my head. “We were on the phone last night.”
“Blue, you need to see the pictures.” Ethan walked over to my pacing and handed me his phone.
“Fine.” I snatched it out of his hand and exhaled before eyeing the images on his screen. Brigham’s jaw was tight as a barely dressed woman leaned over him, hands in his hair and tits spilling out of her dress. He held his hand up on her side. Three beer bottles were in the shot and my stomach fell out of my body.Disgust. Betrayal. Hurt.“What?”
“Taken last night at the hotel. Guess there was a bar there that he went with some teammates.” Ethan took the phone out of my hand, but it did no good. The image was burned there. Permanently etched into my mind. He’d seemed off last night, and the call with Charles…Charles was calling because he found out?
Or maybe Charles had pissed him off so he’d gone out to get drunk.
Or maybe, after our talk, he’d decided he was done with me.
My head felt funny and I plopped on the couch, wishing I could erase the last five minutes from my life. I’d woken up happy and ready to kick ass on some renovation sketches, but now… I might get drunk with my friends before nine a.m. It would be a new record for me. “He wouldn’t do this.”
“Don’t care, babes. It looks bad. Real fucking bad.”
“But with the case, and his desperation for baseball, I can’t see him doing it.” I ran my fingers through my hair, unable to sit still.
“The media is going crazy. It’s all over. He’s trending, too.” She took a swig from the bottle and shared a look with Ethan, who tilted his head in confusion. “I know we are anti-sweating, but I’ve been really into the sports world lately. All the muscles and grunting.”
“Ew, stop.” He shook his head and sat on my other side. “How are you feeling? What’s going through your mind?”
“I don’t know. Hurt, but I swear I know him. He wouldn’t cheat, I don’t think.” I bit my lip and hated the doubt that hadn’t been there minutes ago. That little seed was enough to cloud every memory I had with him. “He asked me to travel with him to a game sometime. Why would he do that if he was going to sleep with other girls?”
“Maybe whatever you two have means different things to each of you. I’m telling you, Blue, I read all about him when you first mentioned him. This guy had model after model on his arm at clubs. Partied all the time. Got drunk all the time. Strip clubs—”
“She gets it, damn,” Ethan yelled, rubbing my shoulder. “How is that helpful?”
