What a fucking coward. Not just for leaving me, but for lying. For softening the blow with some noble excuse because he couldn’t admit the truth:I don’t want you.I felt sick with myself for believing him.
I stumbled to the bathroom, heart pounding in my ears. The cold tap rattled under my hand as I splashed water over my face again and again, droplets streaming down my neck, soaking my T-shirt. I scrubbed until my skin burned raw, but the ache in my chest didn’t budge. It just settled heavier.
Because I had to see Tyler in less than an hour.
I couldn’t. Not like this. All puffy-eyed, shaking, that raw, familiar shame dragging me down like quicksand. How was I supposed to maintain my composure and professionalism around him when I was this broken? It sent a cold jolt down my spine.
I grabbed my phone, scrolled to his name, and typed out my excuse before I could talk myself out of it.
Me:
Hi Tyler. I’m not feeling great this morning. Going to have to skip the session. I’ll get Ben to see you if you need.
The reply came in under ten seconds.
Tyler:
Are you ok? Do you need anything? Do you need me to come in? I can skip the session. Leg’s holding up today.
Of course he was being sweet. It was unfair how easy he made it to trust him. Unfair how much I wanted to. I sat down hard against the bed and typed out my reply. I kept it brief, revealing nothing about the true state I was in.
Me:
It’s ok. Just a migraine that needs sleeping off. But thanks.
Tyler:
Ok. If you’re sure. Feel better. If you need anything, just call.
My tears pricked, then. Stupid, stinging, and impossible to stop. Because he meant it. He always meant it. And that only made it worse.
Josh had lied to me so easily. But Tyler? Sure, he was a lot—full-on, cocky, relentless—but he’d never once lied to me. Not about the stupid things. Not about the hard things. He never hid his feelings for me. He told me when I was the reason he tried harder. He’d kissed me like it mattered and never pretended it didn’t.
I didn’t even know what to do with that kind of realisation. Didn’t know if I trusted it. Or if I ever would.
I threw the phone back onto the bed and curled onto my side, tears spilling hot onto the pillow.
Not because I missed Josh, he could go to hell for all I cared, but because his lies still clung to me like a stain. Proof I wasn’t the kind of woman men stayed for. Not the one they chose.
It all felt too much, the lies sinking into my skin all over again. One wall away was a man who kept choosing me every hour of every day, whether I let him or not. That scared me more than any lie ever had. I pulled the duvet further over my head, hoping to shut out the entire world that felt like it had just cavedin. Because if he was telling the truth, and I still wasn't enough to makehimstay, I wouldn't survive the fall this time.
Chapter 24
Tyler
I deserved a fucking medal.
Three days in a row she’d practically bent me over that table, her warm, graceful hands all over my leg, and I’d been nothing but a saint. A tortured saint with a permanent hard-on, sure, but still a saint. I’d shown up on time, listened, stretched, iced. I was focused, winning matches like my life depended on it.
She, on the other hand, was still cool as ice. I’d gotten a handful of reluctant laughs, but the wall was back up and reinforced with steel. I told myself it didn’t matter. That I could be patient. That eventually she’d see I wasn’t waiting around to get in her pants. I was waiting for her.
I pulled on the black Nike vest I’d laid out, I’d caught her staring at my arms in this one before, her eyes lingering a second too long for a ‘professional assessment,’ and I wasn't above using it to my advantage today. I tossed in a roll of grip tape and a heavy towel into my gym bag, the nylon crinkling under the weight. I was just zipping it shut, when my phone gave a sharp, insistent vibration in my pocket.
Orla:
Hi Tyler. I’m not feeling great this morning. I’m going to have to skip the session. I’ll get Ben to see you if you need.
Wow. That gutted me. More than I’d ever admit out loud.
