I didn’t lie. I just didn’t mention it because it was NOTHING.
That’s not going to sound good when I tell her. “He didn’t mention having coffee with his ex because it was nothing.” Yeah, that’ll go over great.
She’s right. It sounds bad. It sounds exactly like whatever excuse Garrett gave Juliette when he broke up with her. And now I’m going to be just like him. Another guy who kept secrets. Another guy who broke her trust.
Don’t contact her. Please. I’m asking you nicely. Just leave us alone.
Come meet me. One more time. Just to talk. If you do, I’ll leave her alone.
No.
Then I guess I’ll see her soon. I know where she works. The training facility, right? I’m sure I can find her there.
My stomach drops like I’m in free fall. I never told her Juliette’s name. Never mentioned where she worked. Which means Sienna’s been watching me. Following me. Stalking me.
Sienna, I’m serious. Stay away from the arena. Stay away from Juliette.
Then meet me. Today. Noon. Same Starbucks.
No.
Your choice. Either you meet me or I find your girlfriend and tell her everything.
I stare at my phone. Rage and panic warring in my chest, making it hard to think straight, hard to breathe properly.
I could meet her. Could hear whatever she has to say. Could try to reason with her one more time.
Or I could call the cops. Could report the harassment. Could get ahead of this before it gets worse.
But if I call the cops, Juliette will find out. She’ll ask questions. She’ll want to know why my ex is harassing me.
And then I’ll have to tell her about coffee. About how I hid it. About how I fucked up.
I’m not meeting you. And if you contact Juliette, if you go to the facility, I’m calling the police and pressing charges. This is your last warning.
I block the number and turn off my phone completely. Power it all the way down like that’ll make this stop.
My hands are shaking. I have to put the phone down on the bathroom counter because I can’t hold it steady.
I need to tell Juliette. Need to warn her that Sienna might show up. Need to explain everything before Sienna gets to her first.
But it’s 6:30 AM and she’s probably still asleep and I don’t want to wake her up with this nightmare I’ve created. Don’t want her first thought of the day to be about me and my fucked up ex and my poor decisions.
I’ll tell her today. At practice. Or after. I’ll explain everything and she’ll understand.
She has to understand.
Practice is a disaster.
I can’t focus. Keep missing passes. Fuck up a drill so badly that Barrett makes the whole line run suicides while he yells about how we’re playing like a goddamn peewee team.
“What’s wrong with you?” Dex asks during a water break. He’s breathing hard, sweat dripping down his face.
“Nothing.”
“That’s bullshit. You’re playing like trash.”
“I’m fine.”
