Checked (Gold Hockey Book 7)

by Elise Faber

  And he knew. She deserved for him to react in the same way he would if she didn’t have anxiety. She deserved for him to give a shit that she was crying by herself on the bathroom floor.

  She deserved to not be alone.

  So he crossed back to the door and tried the handle.

  Locked.

  But not well because the knob had one of those circles with a divot in the middle of it, one that he could use his thumbnail or a coin to turn.

  No coins handy, he used his nail.

  Approximately two seconds later, he was in the bathroom, holding Rebecca as she sobbed. His heart settled. No, it wasn’t where he wanted to be. He definitely didn’t want to be the cause of her tears.

  Yet, he also knew there was nowhere else he would ever be.

  No matter what Rebecca seemed to think.

  “You should have left,” she said into his chest, what felt like an eternity later. The heartrending sobs had stopped, and her voice was hoarse. “You should still leave.”

  Carefully, he leaned back, cradling her jaw in both hands and tilting her head so her eyes met his. “I thought we talked about this,” he said. “I love you, Rebecca. Every part you’ve shown me willingly and all the pieces I still have to coax out underneath.”

  “I’m—”

  “Perfect.”

  She shook her head.

  “How about perfect for me?” he said, voice edging into cheesy game show host, complete with waggling brows.

  Her sigh was put-upon, but at least amusement had crept into her eyes.

  “This is a lot,” he said. “I get it. We skipped about ten steps from friendship to lovers tonight, and I gave you too much. I should have waited—”

  “You shouldn’t have to do anything!” she screeched, pushing jerkily at his chest and climbing to her feet. “You shouldn’t have to adjust just because I might have a freakout and lock myself in the fucking bathroom. You should be able to be you, to express your emotions, and I should be able to take them.”

  Ah.

  The crux of her anxiety.

  “And how many first dates have you been on where your date declares his love for you, huh?” He stood, took her hand when she would have turned away. “I'm guessing none.” A beat. “Or at least under a dozen.”

  “Gabe,” she snapped. “I’m being serious.”

  “I know, sweetheart.” He tugged her close. “And I know this isn’t a joke, but it’s also not the end of the world. People make mistakes and go too fast or freak out or argue and run off. That’s called being human.” Fingers threading into the silk of her hair, he went on, “You once told me you weren’t broken. I think you meant it at the time, but”—his tone went careful—“I’m not sure you actually believe that as much as you want to.”

  Her eyelids slammed closed, a long sigh escaping her lips. “My parents,” she eventually said. “It wasn’t healthy, you already know that. But what you can’t understand it that my dad spent close to two decades accommodating, changing himself so that my mom wasn’t triggered, so she didn’t shut down and . . .” Another sigh, this time eyes opening. “Do what I just did. You’re not my emotional shield, Gabe. I have to be able to handle these things on my own.”

  “But if we’re in a relationship, why should you have to?”

  “It’s not that simple. You can’t be my crutch.”

  “Why not?” he pressed. “Why can’t I be one with this? There will come a time where I will need the same help back, and you’ll bolster me then. Life isn’t always transactional. Sometimes someone gives more, but then things shift and change and things even out.”

  Her shoulders curved forward slightly. “And if they don’t even out? If you don’t need me in the same way I need you?”

  “Then you find other ways to take care of me,” he said. “I’m a horrible cook, maybe it’s meals—”

  “You’d become vegan?”

  “I’m mostly there anyway, and if becoming vegan meant getting to eat your cooking day in and day out, I’d do it in a heartbeat.”

  She placed her palm over his heart. “But do you want to?”

  Gabe covered her hand, struggling to make her understand. He didn’t give two shits about eating meat or not, and it was a fucking lame example, but he also knew what she was getting at. And it was less veganism and more concern for their future.

  He also knew he would never be able to fully assuage those fears.

  At some point, Rebecca would have to decide if she was willing to dip her toe over the line.

  “I can’t have you living half a life for years,” she said. “Until you hit your limit and then finally leave—”

  As if him leaving was already a foregone conclusion.

  Fuck.

  He’d missed that, too.

  Not just a fear of replicating her parent’s unhealthy relationship, but also a fear of abandonment. Because both her mom and dad had left her, albeit in different ways. Unfortunately, Gabe didn’t have a magic solution to cure that particular fear—especially when the only true way to resolve it was time and patience and proving he wouldn’t leave her, too.

  Which left the anxiety.

  And the fact that this woman didn’t understand how truly strong she was. Not that he was any better. He’d ignored the signs at first, having been so distraught by her physical resemblance and personality similarities to Maggie—

  Fucking blinders.

  Mandy could be a pain in his ass, but she’d been damned right about that unique character flaw . . . and had not let him hear the end of it since. But when he’d finally pulled his head out of his ass, he’d truly seen Rebecca.

  Yes, she had anxiety and was quiet and often reserved, especially with those she didn’t know well. Yes, she didn’t like speaking in front of groups or going to new places.

  But. She. Went.

  She spoke.

  She came to work and did her job. She went to therapy, tried new places, gave presentations.

  She fucking lived her life and lived it well.

  That was worth celebrating.

  But how to convince her? He couldn’t. She needed to see that. “You’re not your mom.”

  Her shoulders stiffened.

  “You’re not your mom.”

  A jerk of her head.

  “You’re not your mom.”

  A tear trickled down her cheek, the glistening trail highlighted by the brightness of the bathroom. But no matter how much light was in the room, none of it was getting through the darkness of Rebecca’s mind.

  “It doesn’t matter what I say, does it?” he asked quietly.

  Silence.

  Long, agonizing silence that sliced him straight in his gut.

  Then finally, her lips parted, a tiny puff of air escaping, words following in its wake.

  Unfortunately, they weren’t the words he was desperate to hear.

  “I can’t be what you need me to be, Gabe.”

  “What I need is for you to be you.”

  Another tear escaped, slowly creeping down her pale cheek. “Maybe you think that’s true now, but—”

  It was the but that made him step back.

  “I’m an adult,” he reminded her. “I can make my own decisions, and I’m fully aware of what I can handle.”

  “I know,” she said. “But you said earlier, I would find my own ways to take care of you.” She swallowed. “This is my way.”

  Fucking hell. His pulse was pounding in his throat, anger and the fear of not having her in his life, mixing with the complete and utter helplessness he felt knowing he was losing her. He’d just had the best night of his life, and she was standing in front of him, just slipping through his fingers. “This isn’t taking care of me,” he said. “It’s pushing me away because you’re too fucking scared to take a chance on something that is real and important and might mean more to both of us than anything else in our lives.”

  She didn’t react to his biting tone except to lightly brush her fingers down his jaw.
“I’ve enjoyed being your friend,” she said softly, “I’ll miss it when I just have you as a coworker again.”

  As though it were a certainty.

  Fuck.

  He spun away, slammed a hand through his hair, probably disheveling the locks and not giving one fucking damn. This was agonizing. “Why won’t you let me love you?”

  A hand on his shoulder, burning his bare skin. “I can’t,” she whispered. “I can’t do that to you.”

  Gabe’s chin dropped to his chest, the inevitably of the argument sinking in.

  “I hope you find what you need.”

  He turned and left the bathroom, shell-shocked at how incredibly quickly things had unraveled. Thirty minutes before, he’d been in the best place of his life. Now . . . his insides felt shredded, his heart smashed to a pulp.

  And it was all supposedly for his own good.

  Rebecca just didn’t understand that everything that was good in his life revolved around her and without her—

  Fucking torture.

  But nothing he said would change her mind, would make her grasp the absolute certainty of his emotions.

  So, there was nothing else to do.

  Except, pull on his clothes, step into his shoes, and leave, knowing that he would never, ever be the same.

  Such was the power of Rebecca.

  Eighteen

  Rebecca

  She’d just sat down with a bowl of oatmeal she had absolutely no intention of eating when her phone rang.

  It was her broken heart that made her pick it up without looking at the screen.

  Because her heart and brain were connected, right?

  Unfortunately for her, that was the truth. Also unfortunate was the two organs were arguing for the entirety of the day about how it had been necessary to let Gabe go—her brain—but not liking it in the least and lambasting her for her decision—her heart.

  She hadn’t realized how much she loved Gabe until he’d left her apartment after quietly getting dressed, after softly reminding her to lock her door, even though she’d just eviscerated them both. He’d managed to get in deep, and she was hurting them both by breaking things off between them, but she also knew the call was the right one. He deserved someone—

  Ugh.

  Her phone buzzed in her hand, and she swiped a finger across the screen, answering the call and putting it on speakerphone.

  “Rebecca.”

  The cell clattered to her kitchen counter.

  “Rebecca?” came her sister’s impatient voice.

  “I’m here,” she said. “Sorry, my hands were full, and I dropped the phone.” Partial lie, because only one hand was occupied with oatmeal paraphernalia, but Sandra didn’t need to know that.

  “If your hands were full, why did you take the call?”

  Tone condescending? Check.

  Ice lacing the edges of her words? Double-check.

  Continuing to talk without bothering to wait and listen to Rebecca’s explanation? Priceless.

  “You’ve been avoiding talking to me,” Sandra said. “Why? Are you still seeing your therapist?”

  Considering that she had been going to the same therapist for near on a decade now, the question was mute, but Rebecca answered anyway. “I’m still seeing Dr. Patel. Thanks for asking. What’s new with you?”

  Silence.

  Cute.

  Then, “How often?”

  She shouldn’t answer. First, it wasn’t her sister’s business or responsibility to make sure she was still going to therapy. But also, it wasn’t for Sandra to know how often she was going.

  Except, Rebecca had been down this track before.

  It meant she either hopped on the train to its final destination or derailed the engine and dealt with the extended time and effort to right all of its cars.

  Hence, she answered.

  “Once a month.”

  “I think you should see her more,” Sandra said. “You don’t sound like yourself.”

  The space between her shoulder blades itched, or maybe that was just her finally growing a spine, because for the first time in a long time, she snapped back at her sister. “I think you should get a life so you can stop living mine.”

  “I—”

  Rebecca shoved a spoonful of oatmeal in her mouth, not bothering to wait until she was done chewing to continue. Impolite, she knew, but this was more important than table manners.

  “I love you, Sandra, but I’m serious. This is too much. You call me too much—”

  “You’re my sister. We should be talking—”

  “I would love to talk to you,” she snapped, throwing her hands up even though Sandra couldn’t see them. “I would love to have a conversation with my sister about what’s happening at her job or with her dating life or what show she’s bingeing on Netflix. The only problem is that the only thing she wants to talk about is how fucked up I am and how much more therapy I should be getting.”

  Teeth clinking together, Rebecca stood and paced away.

  “You don’t sound—”

  “I sound fine!” she shouted. “I’m finally living my life”—if being heartbroken was what she could call living it—“and I don’t need to be in therapy all the time anymore. I’m not Mom!”

  Her chest heaved when she finished talking . . . okay, shouting, her breaths coming short and rapid.

  Her sister, however, was completely silent.

  For a long time.

  Long enough for Rebecca to cram another bite of oatmeal into her mouth. Not that she could taste it.

  “This isn’t like you.”

  She sucked in a deep breath, released it slowly. Gabe had transformed her, giving her the patience and support to find the strength to peel off the many layers of veneer and expose her true self to the world.

  “Maybe you don’t really know me,” she said quietly. “I’m actually—”

  “I’m your older sister. I know you.”

  More of that true self shone through. “Look, Sandra, I know you’re older, and I understand that you lost out on a lot of fun during your college years by being forced to look after me when mom and dad were having their issues—”

  “Dad didn’t have—”

  “Neither of them were innocent,” she said firmly. “But this isn’t about them”—her voice rose when Sandra began to talk over her again—“this is about us. I get you needed to be a mom to me when ours was out of commission. I understand what a sacrifice it was and am so beyond appreciative.”

  Sandra snorted.

  “That being said,” Rebecca continued. “I’m a grown-up now. I don’t need another adult making unilateral decisions for me and my life.”

  As the words came out of her mouth, a feeling of dread bubbled up in her chest.

  Wasn’t that exactly what she’d done to Gabe?

  Fuck.

  But she couldn’t focus on that in this moment. She needed Sandra to understand this way of interacting wasn’t healthy for either of them.

  “I’m just suggesting—”

  Four months—hell, four days ago, she wouldn’t have been able to stand up to her sister. But today, she found she had the strength. Because of Gabe, because of her own growth. It was as if he’d held up a mirror, one that only displayed who she was deep inside.

  And deep inside, she was strong.

  “Yes, I know. You’re looking out for me. The trouble is, you’re still doing it like a parent.” A beat. “I need a sister.”

  Sandra was quiet for so long that Rebecca actually glanced down at her cell’s screen to make sure she hadn’t hung up.

  “I’m not sure that is what you need.”

  Irritation welled. “Okay, you win, Sandra. Be what you want to be, but know that I’m not doing this anymore.”

  “That’s not exactly fair, Rebecca.”

  “Maybe not,” she said. “But fair doesn’t factor in here. I’m telling you what I need, and that’s a sister, not a mom. It’s up to you if you want that role.”r />
  “I’m eighteen years older than you.”

  “Congratulations.”

  “I don’t know why you’re being like this.”

  “What? Strong? Or going after what I want? Look in the mirror. You’re part of me. You taught me how.” She sighed. “The difference was I spent my whole life wanting to be like you but never having the courage to do so. That’s changed.”

  “It’s a man.”

  “It is a man,” she said. “And it’s also me.”

  “That’s idiotic.”

  Rebecca shrugged, another pointless gesture her sister couldn’t see. “It’s the truth.”

  Sandra scoffed. “That’s ridiculous. What did he do—?”

  “I’m hanging up now,” Rebecca said. “I hope you’ll actually listen to me and not—”

  “You’re acting like a petulant—”

  “Look. You want to talk about a gorgeous new pair of heels you bought or some screw up your intern made or even which couples will make it on Love is Blind, then I’m all ears.”

  “I don’t even know what that is.”

  “And point missed.” She sighed again but kept her tone quiet and firm. “Be my sister, Sandra. Please, just find a way to be that.”

  Rebecca hit the end button.

  Immediately her cell began to ring again.

  She silenced it, picked up her bowl and took it to the sink, setting it carefully into the stainless-steel basin. That was when her hands began shaking, then her knees, then her breaths.

  Slowly, she sank to the tile floor and for the second time that day, rested her head onto her thighs.

  Holy shit.

  Her sister. She’d actually said all of that to her sister.

  Her first instinct was to grab her phone and call Gabe, to tell him that she’d stood up to Sandra for the first time in her life. He’d get how huge it was.

  But he’d gone.

  Because she’d pushed him away.

  Right thing or not, that realization stung like hell.

  It had been really fucking hard to convince him to go when her heart had been screaming at her to stop, to beg him to forgive her for putting them both through it, to stop the madness and confess her love for him.

  She hadn’t fully grasped exactly how much agony she was going to be in without Gabe in her life. Not until that moment.