“You kissed me,” I snap. “I just let it happen.”
This excuse sounds as lousy as it did in my head.
Wyatt rubs his neck, a puzzled glint flashing in his eyes. “Ellie, if you’re afraid of what’s happening between us, I promise you, you don’t need to be. I’ll never again act like I did before. I won’t hurt you. I love you.”
When I only stare at him, he whispers, “Trust me, please.”
“Like you trust your father?” I say, but I regret my snap as soon as it’s out.
Wyatt winces like I’ve just slapped him. He recoils, and his shoulders hunch forward.
“Wyatt, wait…” I mumble. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to compare you to your father.”
He shakes his head. “It’s okay, I get it. You’ve got no more reason to believe me than I have to believe Dad.” His voice is sad, but there isn’t a hint of anger in it. “He might’ve broken my flesh a few times, but I’ve broken your heart, and I made you feel you didn’t matter.”
Guilt surfaces in me at his grieved tone, but I can’t deny he spoke the truth. “Yeah, that’s exactly how you made me feel. And I don’t want to go back there ever again.”
“You wouldn’t. I was an idiot for believing that I had to be without strings attached to be great at what I do. I can balance my career and our relationship now.”
His words make my jaw drop, but I hesitate to believe them.
Wyatt might feel confident about what he said. He might even believe he’s ready to make room for me in his life, but that’s not a guarantee of a genuine commitment.
“I’m sorry, I don’t want to do this again. I’ve moved on.” I fix my eyes on my hands.
A choked sound escapes from his throat.
I blink up, and his wounded expression makes me almost go back on my word and admit what I truly feel for him, to confess that I’d love to give us a second chance as well. But I’m terrified that his emotions for me are like mayflies—blooming when we’re close but destined to die once he’s back in his genuine passion.
I bite on my tongue and wait for him to speak next.
It takes almost a minute of silence before Wyatt says, “I understand. It’s my fault.” He sighs. “I think it’s best if we interrupt our therapy now.”
My eyes widen. “We can’t do that. What about your coming season?”
Wyatt’s face steels. “I’m not sure. Perhaps I’ll miss out on it.”
“You…you might not have to do that,” I interject. “If you really want to stop your treatment, I could make an early closing report…in which I’ll declare you fit to return to your team.”
His brows arch. “You’d do that for me?”
“Yes, and I wouldn’t be lying.” I’m not sure my boss would approve, but I feel confident enough as Wyatt’s therapist to make this call. “If ever there was a situation in which we could expect you to flip out, then it was when you met your dad.”
“But I got angry…” A puzzled line curves on his lips.
It makes him so vulnerable and cute, I’d love to hug him.
“Yes, but you didn’t attack him,” I say. “You used the tools I taught you to keep your emotions at bay, and you succeeded.” When I see his doubt, I add, “Anger therapy isn’t meant to eliminate all anger. That’s unrealistic. We aim to give you coping mechanisms you can rely on when a situation threatens to get out of hand. And you proved to me that you’ve internalized these teachings well enough.
“So I’m cured?” he asks.
“Not exactly,” I sigh, “but you made tremendous progress, enough for your coaches to let you play in the next season. There’s still work left for you, though. Especially if you decide to rekindle with your dad. That’s why I’ll put a recommendation in my report for you to meet with a therapist once a month. I’ll check our associates’ list in Georgia and propose some valid professionals who could follow up with you.”
Wyatt gives me a small smile. “This seems reasonable, thank you. I told you, you’re selfless.”
A heat swamps me at his comment.
I want to support Wyatt’s dream of returning to his team. And I think that his key problem has been tackled. Fury won’t affect his field performance anymore. He now knows what triggered his frustration, and he has faced his father without losing his cool. This knowledge will empower him and keep him centered.
But by offering him a closing report, I also have my own interest at heart. Stephanie would fire me if she learned that I let Wyatt quit without providing what his coaches wanted. I couldn’t just let our therapy end without proper closure.
Also, shameful though it is to admit, I’d like for Wyatt to return to Georgia as soon as possible—before he can realize that I’m never going to go on a second date with Bill.
As if Wyatt can read some of my thoughts, he asks, “How does it feel to complete your first therapy?”
“Strange… Even if we…” I wiggle my finger between us. “I mean, even if this between us…” Don’t go back to that fuzzy discussion. You’re in a safe, professional tone now. Keep at that. I clear my throat. “What I want to say is that I’m happy we got you to a better place in such a short time. You’ll do well in that training camp.”
Wyatt nods. “It’ll thrill my coaches to hear this.” His phrase doesn’t carry even a grain of joy.
Isn’t he happy to return to his old life? To his career?
Wyatt doesn’t let me ponder this and says, “Can I ask you for one last piece of professional advice?”
“Of course.”
He meets my gaze. “Do you think it’s okay if I postpone my childhood talk with Mom? I don’t think I should pile more on top of what’s just happened. I feel a bit overloaded right now.”
From his wounded but longing glance, I understand that he isn’t referring to the meeting with his father as the cause of his troubled mind, but to my refusal.
“Uhm, sure. You can speak to your mom whenever you feel ready, as long as it happens,” I mumble.
“Good. I’ll call her tomorrow to let her know, and after that, we can head back to Phoenix.”
Sitting in Wyatt’s Corvette for several hours would be more than painful for both of us after what happened. “Perhaps I should catch a bus,” I say, avoiding his gaze.
Wyatt’s mouth twitches. “You don’t want to spend the ride with me?”
“No, that’s not why I—”
Wyatt lifts his hand. “No explanation needed. I get it. You can even send your closing report via email; this way, I don’t have to come into your clinic anymore.” His voice is bitter but not accusing.
My throat closes up. “I can do that if that’s what you prefer.”
“Yes. It might be better. Whenever I see you, I just can’t… It’s too hard to—” Wyatt sighs. “Ah, but you don’t want to hear this.”
My heart wants to tell him he’s wrong. I do want to hear it. But I’m frozen with the memories of my past pain, unable to take the leap I urged Wyatt to do.
Wyatt blinks to the floor, then turns and walks to the corner where my mother keeps her broom and shovel.
I watch him move with ease in our kitchen, baffled that he still recalls where everything is. It’s been years since he last set foot in my parents’ house.
“You don’t need to…” I start, but he’s already back with the tools.
He cleans up the veggie pieces from the tiles and dumps them into the trash beneath our kitchen sink. He carries the supplies back to their place, then blinks at his watch. “I’m going back to bed. Sleep tight, Ellie.”
With a sad smile, he whips around and strolls out of the kitchen.
When he disappears, I stumble against the counter. I lean my elbows on the cold surface and let my head hang between my arms. All my limbs are numb, and my chest aches.
I did the right thing. I know I did.
Once Wyatt is back with his team, he won’t want to invest time in a relationship with me. His true mistress will re-embrace him, and he’
ll fall back into her charms.
So if I know this, why do I feel so awful about taking the mature and safe choice?
Chapter 32
(Wyatt)
“It’s such a pity you decided to head back early,” Devon says and clinks his bottle against my water glass. “Sure you don’t want a beer, too?”
I lean back on Devon’s beige sofa and shake my head. “Got a long ride ahead.”
I came over to my friend’s house to say goodbye. I already did my rounds with Pete, and after I’m done here, there won’t be anything left for me to do other than to head back to a life of loneliness and the success I used to think was all I’d ever want.
How wrong I’d been…
Though I still have over ten days left from my vacation, it’s easier to leave the city now. Perhaps once I’m back in Georgia, the stabbing pain in my chest will decrease.
Devon’s forehead shifts into concerned lines. “Are you at least going to stop somewhere during your drive?”
“In Kingman to greet my mom, then probably in Dallas. Maybe sooner if I get sleepy. Don’t worry, I won’t stay at the wheel if I’m drowsy.”
“Good. I love cars, but driving for days isn’t my cup of tea.”
I shrug. “I don’t mind. That’s why I drove here instead of renting a jet. I like it when the actual journey lasts long enough for me to realize I’m changing places.”
My friend nods, then gives me a speculating glance. “Ellie likes it, too. When we were little, she always preferred to visit our grandparents by car instead of flying to them. She used to say it was a way for her to truly detach herself from what’d been and prepare for what’d come.”
“Yeah, I plan on doing exactly that,” I murmur.
I’m sure that even a year on the road wouldn’t help me exterminate the void I feel. It’s been two days since I came back from Kingman, but the devastating effect of Ellie’s words still hasn’t eased.
I know I have to respect her decision to refuse me a second chance—I had my shot at happiness with her, and I blew it—but this knowledge does nothing for the biting desperation pulling in my soul.
Especially when I imagine the well-groomed doctor taking her hand and whispering phrases to her that I’d want to say.
Devon studies me with furrowed brows, then sighs. “Oh, dang it, I promised Laia I wouldn’t say this but—”
“But what?” I jerk back, suddenly aware of a strange edge in my friend’s usual drawl.
Devon meets my eyes. “I know it.”
“You know what?”
“That you and Ellie used to date.”
My jaw drops. “How?”
“From Laia. Or to be exact”—Devon points his finger to his left eye—“thanks to my ability to read her.”
I round my brows. “I’m not sure I understand.”
Devon leans forward and puts his beer on the low coffee table. “My love is the worst liar in this world. After we met you at Encanto Park, she bombarded me with questions about you. About what kind of man you truly were. When I confronted her about her weird interest in you, she cracked under my questions.”
My eyes widen. “Did you accuse Laia of fancying me?”
Devon chuckles. “What? No, of course not. I told her I knew she was fishing for information, and that something weird was going on between you and Ellie. That’s when she confessed what she heard from Ellie at their yoga practice.”
“Ellie? That’s impossible.” I shake my head. “Your sister didn’t want anyone to know about us.”
Devon lifts his shoulders and drops them. “What can I say? Women are complicated. Sometimes they say one thing, then do the contrary. Or feel one thing, but act as if they feel the opposite.”
I search Devon’s face for signs he’s about to punch me. If he knows what happened with Ellie and how I’d behaved, then he must surely be upset with me.
But my friend stares at me with a jovial expression.
“Aren’t you mad at me?” I ask.
Devon purses his lips, moving his head from side to side as if weighing my question. Then his mouth moves into a smirk. “Nope.”
“But I hurt your sister.”
Devon sighs. “You broke up with her. In a pretty bad, somewhat cowardly way—I’ll give you that. But you didn’t cheat on her like my ex cheated on me. Still, I forgave Morgan.” He shoots me a glance that’s encouraging and serious at the same time. “In any case, it’s not my opinion that counts, but Ellie’s. And you’ve done a good job at placating her. You two looked rather cozy when we spotted you in front of Encanto Park.”
“You…you saw us—?”
“Almost smooching? Yeah, I did. I made up that whole ‘I might need a pair of glasses’ thing to put you at ease. My eyesight is fine. Better than fine.” He winks at me.
“When you came to run with Joe and me, you already knew the truth?”
“Yep. By the way,” he lifts his hands and designates two circles, “all this secrecy is so middle grade. I think you and Ellie should just be open about wanting a second shot at happiness.”
My heart drops. “But we don’t want that,” I murmur.
Devon’s brows arch. “You don’t? Then why did you go on a getaway to Kingman?”
“I mean, I want it—more than anything, but Ellie doesn’t. She—” I stop as Devon’s last phrase settles in. My eyes dart to his smug expression. “How do you even know we were there?”
“You’re kidding, right?” Devon grins. “Your mom and my mom constantly chat on the phone, and Mom calls Laia at least three times every day about the wedding.” His face becomes serious. “By the way, I also heard about your father.”
Devon’s mention of Dad doesn’t faze me much. I just shrug. “Yeah, he’s back in town. Searching for a job if you can trust what he told my mom.”
Devon studies me. “They’re talking to each other, huh? How are you coping with him being back in the family picture?”
I shake my head. “I’m still ignoring him. But I’ve accepted that Mom wishes to stay in contact with him and lend him a hand at setting up his new life in Kingman.”
Devon whistles. “Wow, I didn’t think I’d hear you say this. I imagined your dad’s return would make you blow your top.”
“It’s actually all thanks to your sister that I’m so chilled about this.”
“What’s it got to do with Ellie?”
I inhale and decide to tell Devon the series of events that brought me back to Phoenix.
My friend is right—keeping secrets is childish. Especially when everybody seems to be aware of them anyhow.
I narrate to Devon everything, including the fact that I’ve re-fallen in love with his sister and that she doesn’t want to hear about a future with me.
Devon listens to me with a wrinkled forehead, interrupting me only with an occasional “Oh.”
When I finish, he slams his palms on his knees. “Oh, man, this just keeps getting better and better. Like one of those Latin soap operas Laia and her cousin are hooked on. Skeletons in the cupboard, the hush-hush collaboration between the lead characters, secret trips…” He catches my somber glance and shakes his head. “Sorry. Not helpful.”
“That’s okay.” I bounce my heels on the floor. “Nothing can be helpful here. Ellie wants to date Bill and not me.”
Devon taps his chest. “Do you want to know what I think about this?”
I nod, though I know well what he’ll say. He’ll confirm to me that I’ve got no choice but to give up on his sister.
But maybe hearing it from him will help to stifle the last fragment of stubborn desire that still dwells in my chest.
Devon hooks his fingers in the pocket of his black pants and blinks at me. “It’s all hogwash.”
“Care to elaborate?” I ask, my face drifting into a puzzled grimace.
“What my sis said to you. Laia’s convinced that Ellie’s still in love with you. I trust her judgement on the matters of the heart more than my own. If she says m
y sister’s heart still belongs to you, she’s right. My bet is Ellie’s afraid of trusting you again. Her refusal has got nothing to do with that shrink from her office.”
“I think you are both wrong. But even if you weren’t, the bottom line’s that Ellie isn’t ready to take another chance on us. I need to respect that.”
“No, you don’t.”
“Yes, I do.”
Devon shakes his head. “But—”
“No buts, Devon,” I cut him short because I can’t allow him to install any more foolish hope into my chest. “This time, I must do the brave and noble thing. I’ll put Ellie’s feelings and wishes in front of my own.”
Devon studies me, then sighs. “Okay, pal. If you’re convinced that’s what you’re doing. But if you ever want to discuss strategies on how to bring my sis around, I’ll gladly help. It’d be awesome to see two of my favorite people in this world together.”
My throat clenches because I know this day may never come. “Thank you, my friend.”
After I leave Devon’s house, I call my mom to notify her I’ll be arriving soon then drive straight to Kingman.
I keep my eyes fixed on the road and coax all thoughts about Ellie into the limits of unconsciousness. I’ll need to learn to function like this if I want to go on with my life.
When I reach Mom’s house, there’s a rental truck parked beside her Volvo. It’s a Chevy, my dad’s favorite brand. He always loved these sturdy, American steel-on-wheels, precisely because they weren’t the new kid on the block and they’d built their reputation the old-fashioned way.
My stomach tightens.
I steer my Corvette behind the vehicles but stay in my seat even after turning off the ignition.
Am I ready to face my father again?
Mom clearly thinks I am. That’s why she invited him over. And Dad is likely eager to talk to me because he showed up despite knowing that I might refuse to exchange a word with him. But what do I want? What do I need?
To let go of what doesn’t serve you anymore…
Ellie’s sweet jingling soprano is so vivid in my head, I wince.
How will I ever accept having to live without this amazing woman when she advises me even without being present?
Law #3: Don't Fall for the Athlete: Sweet Second Chance Romance (Laws of Love) Page 25