The view was perfection.
I was a wreck.
My phone remained silent.
A smile stayed plastered on my face.
Inside, my heart and stomach were pretzeled around each other.
My head was off in the clouds, thinking of Matthew.
When the venue was ready, I stayed in the lobby until my mom gave me one warning glance, and then I walked serenely off to my room to make myself look presentable.
When I pulled the navy, one-shoulder Grecian chiffon dress off the hanger, I sighed. As I struggled to zip up the side, tightened the black belt around my waist, and slipped my nude wedges on, I realized that this weekend was one giant fake.
As I expertly sprayed my messy waves into place, I knew that any stress I had about this tiny chunk of hours meant nothing. The foreboding I'd felt was a Trojan horse.
The real issue—tucked inside and waiting to attack, to raze my city to the ground—was outside the ceremony, outside my parents, outside Ashley.
And all centered on my issues.
I’d closed off big, important pieces of myself to a man who loved me because I’d never learned how to be loved in the right way. The healthy, forgiving, accepting way. In front of me, I’d had someone who was all of those things, and I swallowed down truth after truth rather than risk the uncomfortable conversations with him where I might not know the answer.
I walked out of my room, black clutch in hand and head straight, and made my way outside. The weather was as if my sister had ordered it—slight breeze, bright sun, and temps in the low seventies. It was a small gathering, no more than twenty-five, and I only recognized my mom's terrible sister, Ellen, who hadn't spoken to Ashley or me since I was in diapers.
Maybe she was under the same orders as I was. Show up, put a smile on your face, and don't upset Ashley. I sat in my chair while my parents took their seats next to me in the front row. I watched Adam take his place up front under a simple wood frame arch covered with ivory and white roses.
Ashley wore a white fitted dress and came gliding down the aisle like it was made from gold and glitter and lined with the world's approval.
But she looked happy.
I had to bite down on my molars not to cry as I saw it.
As she approached Adam, who had the same shining gold hair that she did, she was beaming.
It was almost too much. My dad settled a hand on my back as if he knew I was contemplating bolting and gave me a soft shake of his head.
"Not now, Ava," he whispered. "Just a little bit longer."
I bit down on my lip and made it through their flowery vows, made it through their surprisingly passionate kiss, and their triumphant retreat down the aisle, where the four-course dinner waited for us inside the hotel.
Before we were ushered out behind them, my dad curled his arm around the back of my chair and leaned his head toward mine.
"Kiddo, I don't know what happened yesterday, and you don't need to tell me if you don't want to. But I'm- I'm proud of you for putting your foot down yesterday."
I jerked my eyes up to his. The attendant motioned for us to leave our seats, and I did, mind racing. We made it to the end of the aisle where Ashley and Adam were posing for some shots for the photographer. My mom never looked at me once.
I turned to my dad and gave him a questioning look. He rubbed the back of his neck, clearly uncomfortable.
"I liked Matthew," he said quietly. "But he wasn't right for your sister."
I snorted. Then I sighed wearily. "Why are you telling me this now, Dad?"
"Your sister ... your sister was always exactly like me. Liked the same things. Never surprised us." He gave me a brief look, then his eyes darted away again. "You were the opposite from the moment we knew you were coming. And, and I didn't always know"—he paused and cleared his throat—"how to handle that well. Doctors often don't. We like to be right, to be sure."
I blew out a slow breath and stared at the mountains. I'd made it all day without crying, and I didn't want to start now. "Where does that leave me? What am I supposed to say to that?"
He lifted his chin in greeting when someone called his name.
"Nothing if you don't want to. I just wanted to say it. Because the way you've handled yourself today, you didn't get that from your mother or me. That's ... that's all you. And that's a good thing. It means we didn't ruin those surprising parts of you."
I opened my mouth to respond when Ashley came over and gripped me in a tight hug.
"You look pretty," she said, then turned when I didn’t answer. "Well? I think I do too."
I couldn't help but smile at her shameless compliment hunt. "You look beautiful. And happy," I added after a slight pause.
Ashley tilted her head. "Of course I'm happy."
"I'm glad."
My mom edged toward us, watching me carefully.
"Hey, where's Logan?" Ashley asked, looking around.
I opened my mouth, but there were no words there.
"I told Adam that he could finally find someone to take golfing when you guys come home for Christmas," she chattered, completely oblivious to my lack of response. Her eyes drifted over the group of people. "Seriously, though, where did he go? You guys already missed drinks last night."
My mom stepped up next to us, her eyes narrowed in my direction. Don't you dare. I heard it as clearly as if she'd said it out loud.
In the cage of my chest, my heart drummed rapidly. No more lies. I refused to lie anymore. It wasn't out of some misplaced sense of honor or desire to reconstruct a relationship with Ashley that made me decide on honesty. It was because of Matthew. He deserved my honesty. He deserved so much better than how I'd handled this situation.
"Ashley," I started.
My mom rushed forward, gripping my arm with bruising strength. "Ashley, we need family pictures while the light is good." Out of the side of her mouth, she hissed at me, "Not now, Ava."
Ashley looked back and forth between us curiously, then rolled her eyes. "Whatever. Is Logan going to be in the pictures with us? I mean, he sure looked serious about you. I'm fine with including him as long as we get a couple of shots without him, you know, just in case."
I laughed, then laughed even harder, which made my mom look like she was one step away from hysterics. Ashley gave me a weird look.
Using my fingers to rub at my temples, I took a deep breath. "No, Ashley, Logan will not be in the family pictures. And right now, neither can I."
"What?" they snapped in unison.
I exhaled, feeling a huge weight lift off my shoulders. "I need to go."
"Right now?" Ashley scoffed. "That's rude."
"You might be right." I pecked her on the cheek and gave my mom a tight smile. "Mom can explain where Logan is. Right, Mom?"
Her mouth hung open, and some strange noises came out. I gave her an air kiss too, patted my dad on the shoulder, and marched back to my room.
I had a ferry to catch.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Matthew
There were plus sides to having your heart ripped out by the last person you expected. I was the first one in the weight room. The last one to leave. For the past two days, the guys seemed to sense that something inside me was just dying to be unchained because they gave me a wide berth.
Maybe it was because I had headphones in constantly while I trained except for when we ran plays, but it also could've been the look on my face that was straight-up murderous.
Drunk texts from Ava didn't help.
They made it worse, which I'm sure was the opposite of her intention. Seeing her words in black and white, reminding me of how many opportunities she had to tell me the truth and how many times she ignored them. Remembering the way everything unfolded in her hotel room, I had to fight not to throw my phone up against the wall.
Same thing when she tried to call me on Sunday. Twice. Both times, I sent her to voicemail because I just ... I wasn't ready.
On the Monday following o
ur fight, the first official workday when I might run into her, I made sure to leave my apartment at dawn so that I could be sweating out my frustrations by the time she showed up. The hallway to the weight room wasn't dark, but it was hushed and quiet, like walking through a church.
Just as I was cueing up my music on my phone, ready to slide my headphones from my neck up over my ears, I heard the sound of heels tapping nervously on the floor. The next song, the one my thumb hovered over, was angry and loud, and the perfect music for lifting heavy weights, for whaling on a heavy bag to get my heart rate up. Not so much for conversation.
I glanced up, and she was leaning against the wall across from the weight room, carrying a to-go cup of coffee in her hands. Since I was walking quietly, not willing to be the one to disturb the silence, she hadn't seen me yet. Her foot, crossed over the top of the other, knocked rhythmically against the shiny floors.
The fact she looked normal, looked beautiful and polished and put together pissed me off. Where were the dark circles under her eyes? Like the ones under mine, the ones that darkened each night I tossed and turned and stared at the ceiling, even though I'd worked my body to the brink of exhaustion three days in a row.
I exhaled heavily, and her head snapped up.
"Matthew," she said nervously, licking her lips.
"Not here, Ava," I told her. I set my jaw and started toward the weight room. Just being this close to her while I was still so pissed had my heart pounding in my chest.
"Please, will you just give me five minutes?" She moved so that I had no choice but to stop. I could either cut around her or move her out of my way, and she knew I wouldn't do either.
My eyes closed as I struggled to keep my anger in check. Keep my hurt in check.
Her texts told me it was okay if I was mad at her as if I needed her permission to be pissed over the fact that my girlfriend lied to me about another man. As if I needed her permission to be really pissed over the fact that my girlfriend acted like she'd been caught by her parents when I was the one who'd always supported her.
When I opened my eyes, I gave her a warning look. "Not now. I need to get to work."
"It's six in the morning, Matthew, and we're the only ones here." Her eyes were big and pleading, and now that I was closer, I could see beyond her expertly made-up face. There were bags under her eyes that I wasn't used to seeing. Because she'd cried, I'm sure.
Because she was caught? Because she was truly sorry?
If I was willing to unearth all the bullshit I was feeling in the quiet hallway, I might have given her ten minutes. I might have walked back to her office and shut the door. Digging under that, I knew that the level-headed version of me would've hated that she cried. Hated that she was hurting.
But I was still really fucking mad over what she did. And I wasn't ready to set that aside yet or be the guy who only ever took things at her pace or discuss the things she wanted, when she wanted. I'd done that already and look where it got us.
"I don't care if we're the only ones here," I told her. She flinched back at the ice in my tone. "I won't say it again, Ava. Not now. I'm not ready to have this out, okay?"
When she didn't move, her feet firmly planted in the hallway and her chin lifted out of stubbornness, I moved to the side and went around her.
Her hand grabbed my arm, and I whipped around.
"Damn it, Ava," I yelled. The feel of her skin on mine lit the waiting fuse, like gasoline, igniting it instantly. "I get a say in this too. You don't get to force your timeline on me. Not now."
She dropped her hand and stepped back, her face white. My whole body was shaking from that one burst of emotion, and if I didn't get the hell away from her, I would lose it completely and say something I regretted before I was ready to say it.
Angry hands shoved my headphones up over my head, and I stormed into the empty weight room. I flipped the lights on, cranked my music up, and got to work. Teammates came in, activity increased, and I stayed zeroed in on what I was doing.
Lift, down, breathe.
Lift, down, breathe.
Stop and wipe the sweat from my face. Stretch my arms. Roll my neck. Change the song.
Lift, down, breathe.
It was the only way I could keep that bubbling sense of an explosion from boiling over. My skin was tight. Christiansen came in and gave me a questioning look since he'd become my unofficial lifting partner. I shook my head and kept moving. Kept everything locked down tight, and brought the chains tighter around the hot pulse of anger as my blood pumped faster and faster with each rep. As the sweat built on my back and arms, dripping down the sides of my face, I knew it wasn't enough to keep the fire on low.
Ava lit the fuse, and I hadn't yet effectively stomped it out. Instead of being shut down as I had been earlier, before I heard her clear her throat and beg me to be ready to forgive her, I was simply waiting on simmer. The heat was there, low and unobtrusive, until someone cranked it back up to high and threw the flames back up my sides.
That someone turned out to be Logan.
He walked into the weight room, and immediately, his eyes sought me out. I was shaking my head before he started in my direction. He ignored me, standing in front of me while I finished my tenth squat lift. I kept my breathing steady and my muscles tense until I could safely drop the bar on the ground, where it bounced at my feet.
I looked him dead in the eye and went to move around him. The music was roaring in my ears, loud enough that I was sure anyone standing next to me could hear it.
His hand reached out and grabbed my arm. It was the second time—two times too many—that someone felt like giving me space wasn't important. Felt like unburdening themselves was a higher priority than my right to process things in my own time.
It was the only reason I could give for why I immediately turned and shoved his hand back at him without removing my headphones. His face went from annoyed to angry.
Slowly, and only because he was one of the team captains, did I pull my headphones free, but I left the music running.
"I need a minute," he ground out.
"No thanks." I turned away. "And don't ever grab me again, Ward."
Eyes turned in our direction, some wary, some curious, and some concerned. Christiansen stood from the bench and watched us carefully.
"Hey," he said firmly. "I said I need a minute. You can spare me that."
I closed my eyes and counted to five because ten was impossible. If he kept his trap shut for those five seconds, I could walk away. I could keep this from turning into a scene.
Except for those five seconds, I saw his face as he walked into the hotel room behind my girlfriend, the woman I'd been touching, kissing, sleeping with for weeks, with the intent of ingratiating himself into her life. Suddenly, he was the reason all this bullshit happened. He was the reason I was so fucking angry. Why I was coming here at dawn to avoid Ava because I wasn't ready to hear her excuses again.
"Hawkins," he barked out. My hands curled into fists. "Don't be stubborn. Let's go outside in the hall."
My eyes popped open, and my hands reached out to shove him back. He stumbled, not prepared for it.
"Whoa," someone said behind us. "Cool it, guys."
Logan stood tall and walked the remaining steps between us. I was taller than him by an inch or two, and I weighed more than him, but when he practically went nose to nose with me, I had to try not to blink from surprise. When he spoke, his voice was low. "I'll give you that one shot. Just one." His mouth thinned. "I didn't know it was you, okay? You think I would've gone if I'd known?"
"I don't want to talk about this here," I ground out.
His arms spread wide. "Where do you want to talk about it? Out on the practice field? In the showers? Give me one minute, Hawkins."
I poked him in the chest, and someone whistled. "I don't owe you shit because the way I look at it, none of this would've happened if you'd kept yourself out of my business. If you'd stayed away from her, none of this would ha
ve happened."
He laughed under his breath. "You don't think I regret going? I wish I'd never stepped foot on that damn ferry. But you're delusional if you think this is all on me."
I started to walk away. I tried.
"You forgive her yet?"
I whirled around, fire crawling up my throat at the sound of his voice asking about Ava. "It's none of your business, Ward."
Something about my voice, the pitch that was bound at the edges with a touch of violence made the entire room go quiet. The rest of the team was watchful and alert but not ready to interfere. Not yet.
He spread his legs and faced me without any fear, lifted his chin, and said, "What if I decide to make it my business? You know how I feel about her."
With a roar, I grabbed his shirt with both hands and slammed him up against the wall. He drove his elbow down onto the tender side of my forearm and drove his fist into my side when I was forced to drop my hand.
"You stay away from her," I yelled in his face.
Hands fell on my arms and shoulders, pulling me back as more bodies stood in front of Ward and held him back by the chest.
"And you think you deserve her right now?" he yelled right back. "Look at yourself, Hawkins. Stomping around here, glaring at anything that moves. You're like a kid who didn't get his way."
I struggled against the hands holding me back, but they held fast. "You don't know jack shit about me, Ward. You like to be lied to? You like the feeling of seeing what I saw on Friday? You don't know anything about me. Or her."
He was breathing hard, but he nodded at the guys holding his chest. They both backed off. Logan only took one step in my direction.
"Don't act like the only person who's been shit on, okay? Your story is no worse than anyone else's in this locker room. Hell, in this entire building." He narrowed his eyes and shook his head as though I'd disgusted him. "Because guess what? You don't know me either."
The Ex Effect Page 21