Tears prick Chelsea’s eyes. “You don’t want to see me anymore?”
I take a deep breath to steady myself. “Are you gonna call Roman’s guy at the Thunderbolts?”
With a wobbling chin, she shakes her head.
“Then, no, I don’t. If you stick around here for me, I’ll feel guilty about that, and I can’t afford that kind of a distraction. Plus, I can’t waste valuable time sneaking over to see you every night, either. There’s way too much at stake for me now, so I need to get serious and cut out all unnecessary distractions, including you.”
“I’m an unnecessary distraction?” she echoes, and the flabbergasted, pained look on her face makes my heart squeeze painfully.
I feel desperate now. Like I’m clawing at the final frayed fibers of a lifeline. “If you truly won’t cut the cord and leave the Mastodons, then at least ditch my ass and work with someone else—a starter who can help pad your résumé and get you where you really want to go.”
She swallows hard. “You know very well there’s only one starter on this team who could help pad my résumé, Luca.” Her chest heaves. “And if you’re instructing me to work with him, then you can go fuck yourself. Not only because I can’t stand him, but because I still genuinely believe inyou. I know you don’t actually mean a single word you’re saying to me right now, Luca. It’s not possible.”
I take a step forward, feeling pissed at her for stubbornly sticking with me like this.
“Don’t be stupid. Whether you like him or not, Moriarty is your ticket out of here. So, put your big-girl panties on and coach that motherfucker with everything you’ve got. And hey, while you’re at it, you might as well fuck him with everything you’ve got, too, since that seems to be your most effective coaching strategy.”
“Luca Maguire,” she spits out, clutching her chest.
“Unless my hunch is correct and you’ve already fucked him?”
The top of her head practically pops off with her outrage, and I have to admit, her reaction is more than warranted. That was a low blow. Like dropping an atomic bomb when a cherry bomb might have done the trick. But what else can I do at this point? I love this headstrong girl, desperately, and I want only the best for her. Sadly, what’s best for Chelsea isn’t a washed-up practice player like me.
Her eyes flashing with restrained rage, Chelsea grits out,“You promised you’d never disrespect me again.You promised me, Luca.”
She’s right. I did. And I meant it at the time. But see, I said that in the Before Times. Back when I stupidly believed I’d make the roster and render myself worthy of her. Back when I thought I was a prince from a rival kingdom, not the fucking court jester.
“Well, promises are made to be broken, I guess.” Fighting back tears as I head to the door, I resist the urge to drop to my knees and apologize to her. To beg for forgiveness, not only for everything I’ve said in this equipment room, but also for failing her when she needed me most. But I force myself to swing the door open and stride away without looking back.
Only a few steps into my journey down the quiet hallway, Chelsea’s commanding voice behind me compels me to stop and turn around. I want to walk away, but her tone is too forceful to ignore.
Clenching my jaw to keep my emotions at bay, I stare her down as she marches vigorously toward me, swinging her arms wildly and grunting angrily with each step she takes.
“How dare you,” she hisses, coming to a stop before me and looking up with fire in her blue eyes. “Congratulations. You just got your wish, Luca. I’m done with you. In fact, I’ll never even speak to you again, as long as I live, until you get down on your knees before me, apologize for every horrible thing you’ve just said to me, and beg for my forgiveness.” She turns to walk away but changes her mind on a dime and whips around again. “Until you do all that, Luca Maguire, I promise you this: The limit to how much you can go fuck yourself …does not exist!”
CHAPTER 31
Chelsea
ASIMARCHaway from Luca, my stomps reverberating in the quiet hallway, I’ve got my head held high and my indignation strapped to my back like two rocket launchers. But the second I turn a corner, my vision blurs with welling tears.
Suddenly, bile rises sharply in my throat.
My stomach churns.
Oh, crap.This isn’t a drill.
I look around frantically for a bathroom, but the closest door leads to an office. Coach Perry’s, specifically. Thankfully, the linemen’s coach is still out after the recent birth of his baby boy, so there’s no chance his office will be occupied, which makes it the perfect place for me to lose my breakfast and otherwise react freely to that shattering sensation in my chest.
Mercifully, the door is unlocked, so I’m able to quickly barrel inside and shut the door behind me. With my palm plastered across my mouth, I frantically scan the room for a trash can. When I spot one, I beeline to it, already heaving, and somehow manage to hit my target and avoid a messy accident.
When I’m finished hurling, I collapse into a nearby desk chair and stare blankly at the cloud-streaked sky through the only window in the small office, my mind racing and my stomach somersaulting.
Goddammit! I thought I was finally getting to experience what all those stupid love songs are written about! But now I know the truth: My feelings for Luca weren’t true love, like I was beginning to believe, because a man who’s willing to break my heart to make himself feel better when he’s feeling heartbroken isn’t capable of feeling true love.
I can’t believe I’d planned to tell Luca I was falling in love with him today right after he made the roster. I imagined myself kissing him enthusiastically in celebration and saying those three little words. But now, I’d sooner tell Luca Maguire, “I hate you.”
I know today’s news was shattering for him. I get that. I’m pretty broken up about it myself. But what I can’t believe, what I never would have believed, is that he took it out onme. Does he blame me and my coaching for where he’s landed? Because if so, that’s ridiculous. He’s the one who inexplicably lost it last night, not me! He’s the one who made his own bed!
