“No.”
“I don’t think he did what the woman on social media says he did. He’s too good for that.”
Her words only make me start crying harder. “I know,” I blubber.
“Give him a chance to explain.”
“I am. I’m meeting him in Pittsburgh in two days.”
“I’m glad. Hear him out. And if you still think he’s done you wrong, then cut ties with him.”
I nod, blowing my nose. If it were only that simple.
“Come here,” she murmurs, throwing her arms around my shoulders, hugging me. “You’ll get through this.”
I nod and take comfort from my best friend who has always been there for me through thick and thin. No matter what.
CHAPTER 22
GABE
PITTSBURGH, PA
GABE
We lose the game 5-4. And that just adds to my shitty mood. It was a winnable game. The guys just weren’t energetic enough. Throughout the game, I glanced up into the seats, hoping to see Layla. But she wasn’t there. My heart heavy, I board the team bus back to the hotel. On the way back, I text Layla.
Gabe: Are you in Pittsburgh?
Layla: Yes, I’m here.
I let out the breath I didn’t even know I was holding.
Gabe: Where are you staying?
Layla: The Kinzer.
Gabe: That’s the same place the team is staying. I’ll be there in a few minutes. Meet me?
Layla: I will.
Gabe: Good. What room are you in?
Layla: 608
I don’t reply, just anxiously wait for the team bus to get back to the hotel. As soon as the bus driver opens the door, I’m up and out of my seat eagerly following the players as they exit. As soon as my feet hit the hotel floor, I’m racing to the stairwell. I’m not waiting for an elevator to take me to the sixth floor. I can get there faster than that.
Stretching my legs. I climb the six flights of stairs in record time. It’s times like these that it pays to be in top shape. Striding down the hallway, I stop in front of room 608. I’m about to knock, then hesitate. What if this doesn’t work? Can I live without her?
My mind made up, I knock on her door and wait. “Layla? It’s Gabe. Open up.”
I hear her footsteps, then the door swings open, a tired-looking Layla on the other side.
“Layla,” I breathe, eating up the distance between us. “I’m so sorry. I swear it was just a fan photo. Nothing else,” I say, my voice clogged with emotion as I pull her into my arms, letting the door swing shut.
I try to cradle her against my chest, but she refuses to let me. And that cuts me deep.
“Tell me why I should believe you,” she says, her tone cold.
