I knew that, and yet I couldn’t do it.
An endless loop played in my head of all the women who’d told me they’d loved me…then left. Baseball babes didn’t even register on my radar, though most of them had usually thrown those three hideous words out at random, and then disappeared the next morning. Or I disappeared. Didn’t matter. They weren’t important.
But my high school girlfriend, Sydney, had been, as well as my college girlfriend, Dianne. Dianne had been a huge baseball fan, and we’d come together for that. She’d been a great one for saying I love you. And then I found out she’d been saying it to three other guys on the team as well. I still winced when I remembered how she’d trilled the words at me. Had she been mocking me even then? I didn’t know, but my body reacted—then and now—as if she had.
Going backward in time, I thought of my first love, Sydney. She’d let me take her virginity after prom. She’d whispered those words every time I made her come, and every time we ate ice cream after one of my games. And three weeks after prom, she moved to California. She’d said it that last time we were together, too. Between choking sobs as she wiped away her tears, she’d whispered, “I love you. Goodbye.”
Those were the exact words my mom had said, too, the day she left my father.
I didn’t trust those three emotional words. Men didn’t use them. My father and brother, whom I loved despite all our difficulties, had never spoken of it. That way, they never went back on the promise of those words.
My logical mind reminded me that I had run, not Ellie. But logic didn’t stand a chance against the tide of emotion that came from hearing a woman say those words to me.
So I sat on the couch in my father’s hotel room and stared at his stinking, snoring body. How many times had I been in this place? Emotionally raw and staring at the same exact thing? A repeating loop, the only difference being our ages. But it was just as bad now at twenty-five as it had been when I was fifteen.
But I didn’t just see this loop in my life. I saw another loop, too. My father used to complain about having to take care of his father every holiday. And I’m sure Grandpa had done the same for his father.
Pops was an alcoholic. And so was I.
Pops had had skills and talent when he was a young man. He had a beautiful singing voice and was a decorated fireman. But after Mom left, there’d been nothing left of him except for a need for beer, and his penchant for telling stories around the bar. Sure, he still took shifts at the firehouse, but that was out of necessity. And I suspected that Larry covered many of his shifts.
I was a pro athlete, but who knew how long that would last? My skills were among the best in the league, but I was only twenty-five. Any number of things could destroy my career. Injury, bad hitting, bad luck. Then where would I be? A washed-out has-been, telling stories of his golden years.
Pops’s drinking had ruined his marriage and destroyed the only woman he’d ever loved. Had I just done that? At least Pops had gotten married and had kids. I suspected I wouldn’t allow myself to get even that far.
Our family was made up of an endless loop of drunken, washed-up men. And I was acting like one of them because I didn’t have the guts to get off my ass and face Ellie. To ask her about those three little words and find out if she might be the one who’d stick around. Instead, I sat on the couch, stared at my future, and wondered why I couldn’t move.
Ass. Jerk. Dickhead. Pussy.
Four hours later, my phone buzzed. I jolted awake on the couch, while Pops still snored like a freight train.
I grabbed my phone and read a series of texts from Gia. She was reminding me of an interview I’d promised to do in a few hours. Text number two mentioned that she really wanted Ellie to come. Number three gave directions and details of whom I’d be chatting with. The fourth reminded me to be sure to bring Ellie. The fifth simply stated, in all caps, “DON’T BE LATE.”
Right. Publicity was part of my job, and giving interviews before the All-Star Game was a normal thing. A year ago, I would have killed for the attention. I was still in the minors, so any press was a godsend. Today, I wanted to hide from the cameras and just lock myself in with Ellie until I figured out what to say to her. I needed to explain my panic last night. I needed to make myself take the risk.
Not all women bailed. Maybe even not most women. Just the women I’d been hanging out with. But Ellie was different. And so I pushed to my feet and headed to the bathroom. At least I could wake her without smelling like crap. I’d bring her hot coffee and order room service. We’d talk, and I’d find a way to explain.
So I showered and headed barefoot down to the Starbucks in the lobby. I wasn’t the only barely-dressed guy there, but I was determined to show up with her favorite almond-milk vanilla latte. It took a while. The line was stupidly long. But I got through and then carried it upstairs while my stomach knotted up. Hell, I’d faced clinch situations without getting this anxious.
But I wasn’t going to run, because she wasn’t going to run.
It was awkward balancing my key card and the coffee, but I managed it. And then I pushed open the door to our room as quietly as I could. It was stupid, really, since I was about to wake her up.
“Ellie? It’s time to get up. I’ve got coff…”
My voice trailed away. The sunlight streaming through the window made the room look very bright. And very empty.
Ellie was gone.
Chapter Twenty-One
Jake
“You’re late. And why isn’t Ellie here?”
Gia’s stern tone met me at the door as I walked into the interview room. I’d already texted her that Ellie had gone home, but she was having none of it. In fact, she was shoving me back out into the hallway as she hissed her fury at me.
“You told me that you were okay with the two of you doing interviews. You swore to me that you’d have no problem playing the happy couple.”
