Leave Me Breathless: The Ivy Collection

by KL Donn

  And he wondered why I stayed in your room the last few nights?

  At least I know he was thinking of me last night, which does wonders for dismissing the doubts I was starting to have. I need to remember he’s a professional athlete and he is here for a huge game, and not to cater to me. I glance over at the roses, now in full bloom, on the desk across the room, and smile. He definitely had done more than most in the few days we’ve been together, even though he’s got other, very important priorities. I shake off my the shitty attitude I had the night before and get up, excited to start the day. I decide to text him back, hoping maybe he’ll be awake.

  Good morning. Missing you, but wanted you to know I was thinking of you and hope you have a great game today.

  My heart leaps when almost instantly he replies.

  Morning beautiful. Thinking of you too. Find me after the game. Can’t wait to hold you again.

  If my heart was leaping before, it’s doing fucking somersaults now. I press the phone to my chest, hugging it like it’s him, a wide grin splayed across my face, and let out a short squeal of happiness. Today is going to be an amazing day.

  I grimace, my hands flying to my mouth when Jasper is slammed from behind, the football popping out of his grip, flying into the air, and then into the hands of a player on the opposing team. The other player looks down at the ball, his eyes popping wide for just a second before he reacts, his legs pivoting then pumping as he runs toward the end of the field. Seconds later, that same player is spiking the ball onto the field in the end zone as he scores a touchdown. But I don’t see that part. I can’t tear my eyes away from Jasper as he struggles to stand, his teeth clenched in obvious pain as he limps off the field.

  When he reaches the sideline, he takes his helmet off and throws it against the bench, obscenities floating across the field that reach even my ears. I’m not sure if he’s pissed or hurt, but either way, I’m worried. I barely know a thing about football, but even I can tell he hasn’t played well. The guy throwing the ball has aimed it for Jasper over twelve times, and he’s only caught it twice. The score isn’t good either. It’s 24 to 7, and there are only four minutes left in the entire game.

  He doesn’t play any of the last four minutes, because he’s led off the field by two men in suits. I’m assuming team doctors? He’s limping, but he brushes any attempt at help away with an angry swipe of his arm to both men. I turn to Michelle, Doug’s wife, whom I met last night. “What should I do?”

  She offers me a small smile. “It depends on the injury. If they think he tore something, they may try and x-ray him. I don’t think they’ll take him to the hospital, even if he is injured. They’ll most likely wait and have him checked out back in Boston.”

  I nod, ingesting her words. “Should I go down there then?”

  “Wait a few minutes.” She pats my arm. “I’ll go down with you after the game is over. I’ve been through this a few times and can steer you in the right direction.”

  “Okay, thanks.” I sit back down in my seat to wait. Which isn’t very long. The rest of the game is over within twenty minutes, the Patriots losing. I follow Michelle as she weaves her way through a maze of endless hallways and people, grateful to have her guiding me. When we reach the secure part of the facility, we show our badges and our waved through without an issue. We walk down an incline that widens to an open area where many of the family members are already waiting. I’m surprised when I spot Jasper, already showered, in the far corner of the space. I’m about to call out to him, but my words catch in my throat, my smile evaporating as I watch his arms slide around none other than Poppy McAdams.

  I stop in my tracks, my mouth hanging wide as I continue to watch the scene unfold in front of me. Her arms wrapping around his shoulders, her face burrowing into his neck, his eyes closing as his head leans against hers. What in the actual fuck? He said she wasn’t coming. He said they were over. That sure doesn’t look like the actions of a man who is over anything. I feel like a complete and utter fool.

  Michelle notices that I stopped and twists around to see where I am. “Megan, you coming?” I shake my head, my eyes staying laser focused as I continue to watch Jasper hold Poppy. I’m waiting for him to push her away. To see if this is some kind of mistake, but so far, that’s not happening. Michelle turns to follow my gaze, then swings her head back to me, her eyes wide. “Oh shit.”

  Before she can say anything else, or try to make an excuse for Jasper, I tear my eyes away from the image now burned in my brain, and look at her instead. “I have to go.” I start walking backwards, slamming into someone behind me, spinning around to apologize before turning back to Michelle. “I’m sorry.” I don’t offer any other explanation, because honestly, is it even necessary?

  I sprint as fast as I can away from the mistake I am now realizing I made, tears starting to spill, making it even harder to find my way out of the stadium. Somehow, I manage to escape the confines of the structure now containing my shattered heart. It’s complete chaos outside, and getting an Uber to pick me up almost impossible, but I finally get one, and burst into a sobbing mess the minute I’m in the car.

  “Patriots fan?” The driver asks, assuming I’m crying because they lost. He laughs at his own joke, but quiets instantly when I sob louder. He doesn’t say another word to me, and has me at the hotel in thirty minutes. I go straight to my room, unlock the door, and begin throwing any items I hadn’t already packed into my bag. I still when I feel my phone vibrate in my back pocket, then slide it slowly out and into my field of vision.

  I know before I even look that it’s going to be Jasper. Lying, fucking Jasper Chase. Too good to be true. I’m surprised to see that there are five missed texts from him. I guess I missed them as I was crying over him.

  Where are you? I can’t find you?

  Are you here? I need to see you.

  Did you get lost? Please tell me where you are so I can find you.

  We’re leaving soon. I have to go back with the team. I hurt my ankle, need to get it checked out in Boston.

  Just talked to Doug. Please call me. We need to talk. I can explain. Boarding plane in thirty minutes.

  I throw the phone on the bed. Fuck you Jasper. I don’t need to hear you tell me what I already know. I scream at the top of my lungs, then flop back onto the bed. I’m so mad at myself for falling for him, for being sucked in by his charm, and his damn perfect body. I am so much smarter than this. I sit up quickly, my eyes landing on the roses, my anger flaring at the very sight of them. I push off the bed, swipe them off the table, then walk into the bathroom. I hurl the vase at the shower wall, the glass shattering as it makes contact, the roses cascading into the tub in a messy heap. “Fuck you.” I’m whispering, trying to fight back the tears with the betrayal I feel. “Fuck you, Jasper Chase.”

  I spin on my heel, close my suitcase, then grab it and my laptop bag, then leave the room. I check out of the hotel, then get a car to the airport. I’m lucky and am able to get a seat on a ten o’clock flight back to Boston. I board when my section is called, looking ahead as I enter the jet way, wanting to forget Los Angeles and everything that happened behind me.

  14

  Three days later…

  I blink awake, rolling over at the same time, my arm landing on a soft body sleeping soundly next to me. I groan, close my eyes, wishing all the mistakes I’ve made in the last few days will fucking disappear when I open them again. They don’t. My head is still fucking pounding, and Poppy is still laying in the bed next to me. I toss the covers back with little disregard for her comfort, and drag my ass out of the bed. I look down and notice I’m naked. I glance over at Poppy and take in her naked form, and put two and two together. Great. Just fucking great. Like I haven’t fucked things up enough already, it looks like I took it to whole new level.

  I barely remember what I’ve done since leaving Los Angeles and landing here in Boston. After I left the hospital, my ankle in an air cast while it heals from a bad sprain, I came
home to find Poppy waiting for me. After the surprising news she sprang on me in Los Angeles, it felt wrong to turn her away, so I invited her in. I remember downing two pain-killers with a bottle of tequila, but after that, not much at all. I rummage through the clothes scattered across the floor of my apartment, and finally find my phone. Miraculously, the battery isn’t dead, but when I see the date, and realize I’ve been off the grid for three days, it’s a shock I’m not dead as well.

  I take a seat on my couch then open my texts, scowling when I don’t find one message from Megan. I open my history and see that I’ve sent her plenty though. God fucking damn it. I have so completely fucked this up. I double check to see what actual day it is. Yeah, that’s when you know you’re a mess. I shake my head when I see it’s Wednesday and realize again how bad of a corner I’ve painted myself into. It’s almost eleven, and even though I know she’s probably working, I try calling her anyway. I’m not surprised when she doesn’t answer, but I’m definitely disappointed. I leave a message, the last one I’ll bother her with, and hope for the best.

  “Hi, it’s Jasper. I know I owe you an explanation, and several apologies, and really hope you’ll call me back so I can.” I let out a sigh then continue quickly so the message doesn’t shut down on me. “I like you Megan. I really, really like you and I want to try and make this work. Please call me. I won’t bother you again if you don’t, but I’m begging you for just one conversation so I can try and explain.”

  I drop my throbbing head into my hands, snapping back up when I hear Poppy’s voice. “Don’t you think it’s kind of in bad taste to call another woman when I’m still naked in your bed?”

  I shake my head, a long, tired sigh sounding from me as I stare over at her. “What the hell happened, Poppy?” She’s still naked as she saunters over to me, and I’m relieved when my dick doesn’t even twitch. At least some things are working the way I want them to. She stops when she reaches me, then weaves her fingers into my hair and begins to stroke my scalp.

  “Don’t.” I swat her hand away as I stand, pissed that I’m still naked too, not wanting her to think it’s an invitation. Everything that has happened in the last three days has been a mistake and I need to make sure she knows that. “I told you already that this thing between us is over.”

  Her eyes squint in anger as she assess me, then soften as she tries to convince me otherwise. “That’s not what it felt like last night, or the night before.” She steps back into my space and tries to place her hand over my heart. “You said you’d take care of me Jasper.”

  I sneer and step away, heading back to my bedroom so I can put some clothes on. “I don’t remember anything Poppy, including what I might have said to you.” I reach my dresser and pull out a pair of sweats and yank them on. I have to lean over to work the end around the leg my cast is on, and stand up straight again when it’s fixed. “But I can assure you this is over.” I point a finger to her and then me. “This thing that you think is happening between us, isn’t.” I walk over to the pile of clothes and snag her dress off the floor tossing it to her. “Put something on. I’ll make some coffee and we can talk about how you want to handle things.”

  She glares at me as she tugs the dress over her head, stomping behind me as I walk to the kitchen. “You can’t just dismiss me. You’re going to have to deal with this.”

  I spin around, grabbing my head when it throbs in protest at the quick action. I grit my teeth through the pain, then unclench them when it passes so I can continue. “I already told you that I’d be there for whatever you need from me, but we’re done. I don’t love you, Poppy. I’m not going to pretend I do, and this isn’t going to change that.”

  “It’s because you’re in love with her, isn’t it?” She plops down onto a stool at the breakfast bar, her voice laced with venom. “That girl you met in California.”

  “Yes!” I startle her when I respond with a raised voice. Then I still, finally admitting to myself that, even though I didn’t think falling in love with someone in three days was possible, it was. I nod my head slowly, confirming in a low voice what I just realized. “Yes, I’m in love with her.”

  She scoffs and shakes her head. “She’ll never want you after this.”

  I stare at Poppy, no longer sure what to say, because even though I hate to agree with her, I know she’s probably right.

  I stop in the hallway, just a few feet from the conference room I’m headed to for my eleven o’clock meeting, my eyes glued to the screen when I see who’s trying to call me. I’ve gotten twenty texts from him in the last couple days, but this is the first time he’s tried to call me. My finger lingers over the screen as I ponder taking the call, but then, my sanity returns and I send it to voicemail. I will not do this right now. Not when I’m about to walk into a meeting. It took me two days to even get out of bed and to stop crying over him. It’s my first day back in the office and I’m going to be strong.

  That strength lasted the entire length of the meeting. We just finished, and I need to go out and grab something for lunch. I decide to leave the building and run to the shop down the street for a sandwich, but I know it’s just an excuse I’m using so I can listen to the message he left me. I miss him. His voice. The good way he made me feel. Doesn’t he at least deserve me hearing him out to see if there’s a plausible explanation. After bundling up in my jacket and scarf, I head out of the office onto the bustling New York sidewalk that I love so much. I turn left and head to a café one block down that always has soups that I like, sliding my phone out of my pocket so I can listen to the message he left me.

  I’m just about to hit listen when my eyes happen to snag onto a picture of Jasper on the cover of a tabloid magazine. It’s hanging from one of the street vendor carts that always clutter the sidewalks, but honestly, that I never pay attention to. I walk closer so I can read the headline, and almost choke when I feel bile rise in the back of my throat. It’s not just the magazine I happened to see, it’s four others, all splashed with photos of him and Poppy walking into some club, him throwing back a shot at some bar with her arm thrown around him, and the worst one, a picture of him kissing her up against some wall, snow falling around them. Headlines vary, but they all scream how Jasper is drowning his sorrow or finding solace in the arms of Poppy McAdams after Patriots loss and his injury. He looks wasted in all of them. His eyes blurry, his face puffy, his clothes a mess. Except for the one where he’s kissing her. In that one, he just looks satisfied. Mother fucker. I was actually considering listening to what this bastard had to stay.

  “You gonna buy that?” The irritated vendor asks me gruffly. “This ain’t the public library. You can’t just check things out.”

  I shoot him a wary glance and shake my head. “No, I don’t need this shit.” I walk away before he can say anything else. My phone beeps, reminding me that it’s still in my hand, and I look down, a text message from Leah popping on my screen. I can only see the beginning of the message, but I can see she’s checking on me. She’s worried about me. She’s been amazing the last couple days, letting me vent and cry and carry on in whatever way I needed to process my feelings. I unlock the phone, then frown when it opens to the voicemail screen. A reminder that I was just considering listening to his message, and was actually considering forgiving him.

  My fingers squeeze around the phone as anger grips me, and without thought, I hurl the phone against the brick wall of the building I’m passing. “Argh!” Several people pass around me, tossing me worried glances, but not one person stops to ask if I’m okay. It’s New York. Nothing surprises anyone around here. For good measure, I go over to my phone, now lying on the ground, and I stomp on it twice, the action surprisingly satisfying as it crunches under my foot. “Fuck you.” I mutter, kicking the phone into the alley, as I storm away, thinking I’ve actually accomplished something.

  Of course, fifteen minutes later when I calm down, I realize what I’ve done and cringe when I think of every contact I had in that phone as I
try and remember the last time I backed up to the cloud. I’m not the best when it comes to stuff like that, and find out later that night when I get home, that I was really bad at it. Turns out that I hadn’t backed my phone up in over three months. The good news was that I no longer had any access to Jasper. The bad news was that I no longer had access to Jasper. Leah convinces me to make this permanent, thinking I’ll be better off if he can’t contact me either, and talks me into getting a whole new phone number when I replace my phone. A clean break, no more floundering over him. And I know she’s right. It really is for the best. That is, until ten weeks later.

  “What do you mean, you’re pregnant?” Leah’s brow scrunches up as she tries to comprehend what I’ve just told her. “How?”

  I lift a single brow and cock my head. “Really?”

  “I mean, who?” Her eyes widen as she thinks about it. “No fucking way!”

  I bob my head once. “Yep.”

  “But it’s been almost three months.” She scratches her head. “You haven’t slept with anyone else since him?”

  I shake my head. “Nope.” And it’s been exactly ten weeks and four days, but who’s counting?

  “Wait, what about that guy you left the club with a few weeks after the one who shall not be named screwed you over for Miss Poppy Pants?” She points a finger at me like she’s discovered something I haven’t already considered.

  “I didn’t sleep with him. We just made out.” I shrug, not quite sure I believe what I’m about to actually say. “It’s Jasper’s.” Before she can try and come up with other alternatives, I stop her. “There hasn’t been anyone since him, and no one for at least three months before him.”