We walk backto her place in silence. Broody, uncomfortable silence that makes me itchy. I’m trying to figure out when the last time I apologized to anyone would have been, and come up short. It’s not that I can’t apologize. I’m man enough to admit when I fuck up. It’s just. . .what would I have apologized for? I’ve probably apologized to my mom and Liam at some point in my life. Never a woman. I need to apologize to her, though. I fucked up. I knew I was fucking up the moment I kissed her and demanded that she marry me and go back to Fairview. I knew it but I did it, anyway, because my anger overrode everything else.
She didn’t deserve it. Shedoesn’tdeserve it. And yet, I can’t right this wrong. I still need her to marry me. I still need to go back to Fairview. I know that until that’s not handled, she won’t be with me. I scoff at my own thoughts. I don’t even know if that’s an option anymore, but the thought of being apart from her any longer hurts too much for me to consider anything else. I’ll chase her for the rest of my life and prove to her that I can be worthy of her, if that’s what it’ll take. We’re quiet as we walk into the lobby, the elevator, down the hall, and finally, into her apartment.
“I’m sorry,” I say, as soon as the door shuts behind us.
She sets down her purse and looks at me. Expressionless. Fuck, I can’t let her do this. I can’t let her go blank on me. I have a feeling that if she puts up walls between us, I won’t be able to tear them down this time. It’s a terrifying thought. A possibility I can’t live with. I follow her into the bedroom.
“Lyla.”
She ignores me, walks into her closet, and starts taking off her jewelry. She sweeps her hair to one side and tilts her neck a little as she unclasps her necklace. Even the way she does that is hot. Is that even possible? I stand at the entrance, leaning against the wall, waiting for her to acknowledge me. She doesn’t even spare me a glance to scowl at me. This is bad. This isreallyfucking bad.
“I’m sorry,” I repeat.
“I heard you,” she says.
“I really am.”
“I said I heard you.” Her eyes flash to mine. “I’m trying to figure out if I even give a fuck anymore.”
My heart sinks. No, fuck no.
“Don’t say that.”
“I can’t do this with you, right now. I’m tired. It’s been a long day and tomorrow will be another one. I’m sure every day that follows until this contract is over will be, as well. Just let me have peace in my own fucking apartment, for fuck’s sake.”
I don’t respond. What can I even say? She grabs her pajamas and I take a step back to let her walk out of the closet and go to the bathroom. She shuts the door and locks it. The sound is so jarring that it makes me realize this might be the first time she’s locked it since I’ve been here. God damn, this is fucking bad. I sit at the edge of the bed and wait for her. I don’t even remember what I’m supposed to be angry at her for. I was mad about my hockey situation. I was mad that I had to jump hurdles to find her. I gave up hockey to fucking find her, and when I finally did she was. . .it doesn’t matter.
None of it matters anymore because she flipped this on me. She plays this game much better than I do, and I’m okay with that. God, she went to the fucking hospital. Was she attacked as badly as I’d been? My throat closes up at the prospect of that. She was probably alone in the hospital. I’m sure Marissa was there. Definitely, Prescott, since he was the one who gave me the news that she was gone. But that’s it. Her dad visited me with all of my coaches, so he couldn’t have been with her. Not that she would have wanted him there. All I know is that I wasn’t there. She probably didn’t even get any flowers. Fuck. She was in a fucking hospital bed when she sent me those flowers. I’m sure of it. I set my elbows on my knees and bury my face in my palms. I can’t lose this girl again. It can’t be too late to redeem myself. I don’t know how I’m going to pull this off, but I have to.
When she’s done in the bathroom, she ignores me and walks to the kitchen. By the time I’m finished showering, she’s either sleeping or pretending. I lie beside her, my mind running a mile a minute as I try to stay on my side of the bed and process all of this for the hundredth time. The woman I love, who I’d give anything to have — who I gave up everything to find — is finally next to me, and she might as well be on another planet, with how far she feels. I turn on my side and face her. I can’t see her in the darkness, but I can make out the shape of her back since she’s facing away from me.
I can’t handle it anymore. My chest feels like it’s going to cave in. I just want to touch her, hold her, something, anything. If she wants to kick me out, I’ll leave. If she tells me not to put my hands on her, I won’t, but I need to try. I move to her side, put my arm around her, and pull her to my chest, the way I used to before she left. Before my life lost its meaning. Before I let my anger drive my actions. A sense of peace instantly rolls through me when I bury my face in the crook of her neck and inhale her scent. She smells so good. She feels so good, so perfect.
“I’m so sorry, Lyla James. I don’t even know what to apologize for first, but I’m sorry for all of it,” I say against her neck. “Please don’t stop caring.”
She inhales deeply and lets it out. She doesn’t say anything, but she lets me hold her, and that’s enough for now.
CHAPTER37
LYLA
DELILAH-WHATEVERTHEFUCK YOU WANT TO CALL ME
We landin Chicago around ten. It’s a three-and-a-half-hour flight, all of which I spent curled up in my own little first-class cubby, trying to watch a movie that won a million awards. For what, I have no idea, unless they give awards for best snooze fest. I’m awoken by the skid of the tires as the plane touches down. The captain starts talking about our gate as I unfold myself and start to gather my things.
I switch my phone off airplane mode and text Marissa to let her know we landed. She texts back immediately with a string of emojis that I can’t concentrate on, right now. The airplane parks and people immediately do what they do, getting up and trying to get their bags so they can be the first ones out of the airplane. I have no connecting flights, and I’m scared of what awaits me outside the airport, so I’m not in a rush to get out. I take my time, putting away my headphones, grabbing my charger, and looking for the chapstick I accidentally dropped during the first five minutes of the flight.
That’s what I’m doing when Lachlan walks over and stands in the middle of the aisle to wait for me. We haven’t spoken since my tantrum at the restaurant, which I loathe myself for. I still can’t believe I did that. The only other time I’ve ever lost my cool like that was at Marissa’s party a million years ago. I swear he’s the only person who can make me this angry. I lose all reason around him. I look up and see people excusing themselves as they try to get past him, while he just stands there and stares at me like we’re in the middle of an open field. Even this frustrates me. I say nothing. I find my Chapstick and follow him out of the airplane. When we step out onto the loading bridge, our suitcases are waiting for us. These aren’t carry-on suitcases. They’re big ones that rode in the bottom of the plane and are now somehow up here while everyone else rushes to baggage claims. The employee smiles as he rolls them to Lach and smiles wider when he gets tipped for it. Lach rolls them both while I follow, trying to wrap my head around what just happened. It’s probably best I don’t know. The entire thing felt like a drug exchange. Knowing him, he would put me in the middle of a fucking drug cartel situation, as selfish as he is.
I truly feel like I’m going crazy. Maybe it’s the lack of sleep or all of the things that were thrown at me at once, but I can’t get my emotions in order. I let him hold me last night and let him apologize while I pretended to be asleep, but I’m not ready to talk about it yet. I’m too upset and still processing it. All of the spare glances I’ve caught from him have been wary, which is good. He’s right to be scared. He probably thinks I’m going to bail on him at the last minute. Honestly, if he thinks that, he doesn’t know me at all. We walk through the airport in silence. Since we already have our things, we head outside where a guy in a dark suit, who looks like he could kick anyone’s ass, is waiting for us. He looks scary, but his smile reaches his eyes as he shakes Lach’s hand. As he takes our bags, Ronnie introduces himself to me. When the doors open, the bitter wind hits me so hard that I take a step back and cross my arms. I checked the weather. It’s not even that cold, but the Chicago wind doesn’t seem to get the memo about the changing seasons. I remember the last time I visited with my parents, it was summer and still brisk at night.
Our bags are loaded into the trunk of a black SUV with heavily tinted windows, where another terrifyingly large man is waiting to open the doors. What even is this service? When Dad played pro, we were picked up and driven around in any city we went to, but the men didn’t look like this. Not that I’m complaining. Maybe Lachlan is as paranoid as I am, after all. Once we’re sitting in the back seat, I look at what he’s wearing — charcoal dress pants, a brown belt, matching dress shoes, and a white button-down with the sleeves rolled up. He dresses so formally these days. It’s weird. Hot, but weird. I’m wearing jeans, an oversized white dress shirt with rolled sleeves, and plain white sneakers. I open my backpack, take out my black cable-knit sweater and tie it over my shoulders.
I don’t know where we’re going, but I know I’d fit right in at a country club or a Ralph Lauren ad. I keep my eyes outside and get lost in the view. It’s such a beautiful city. I don’t remember much of it — The Bean and some face sculptures that spit water from their mouths. I never even got to go to a ballgame at Wrigley, because Mom didn’t feel good and we had to stay at the hotel while Dad played. Unfortunately, it’s not in the cards this time either, with spring training going on.
“What’s the plan?” I ask.
“We have a few places to go to.” He looks at his watch. “Breakfast with some of my former teammates who are in town for a charity event. After that, we have a rooftop gathering, and tonight, we’ll go to a cocktail/engagement party my parents are hosting for us.”
