So I started with something safe. “Thank you again for the guitar. I can’t tell you how much it meant to get it back.”
“You never should’ve had to say goodbye to it.” A sadness flickered in his gaze.
My chest tightened. It was hard to remember who had done what to whom at this point.
“I saw your play last season. Where you ran in a touchdown.” The game had been on in the airport lounge. Had I been in Phoenix or Orlando?
“My one play.” His laugh came out like a huff.
“If there could be only one, that was the one to have.” I offered a weak smile and sipped from my mug, feeling like my heart was a sledgehammer trying to break my ribs. This wasn’t how I’d expected the conversation to go. A night’s rest hadn’t helped put together the pieces of speeches I’d run through in my head before going to bed. There were things I wanted to say, and some of the words became a song in my chest, the low rumblings of a melody with the words just out of reach. Now we were talking about football.
His lips tightened, not with anger, but determination. Like he wasn’t going to let me drag this out with more pleasantries. “You can say it all, Bay. We don’t have to pretend we’re just meeting up like old friends.”
“Aren’t we?” The first cracks were showing.
He tilted his head, staring straight into my eyes. His gaze was heated and full on, like high beams at midnight. “We were a lot of things, Bay, but I don’t think friends was at the top of that list.”
I set down my mug and picked at the napkin. Lyrics to a song began rolling through my head, about a life disappearing like a mirage right before your eyes when you finally have a chance to say the words you’ve been practicing for years, but nothing comes out.
“I’ve been in the same spot before, remember? All the speeches I’d had planned evaporated like that” —he snapped—“the second I stood face-to-face with you outside your apartment door.”
“I sent you texts and emails—I even showed up at your apartment in LA.”
He gazed into my eyes with an emotion that almost looked like pity. “I know.”
That was a blow. I’d often gone back and forth on what was worse, knowing he’d seen my messages and ignored them or if he’d never seen them, but knowing he had was definitely worse. But I deserved it.
I stared down into my mug, swallowing past the tightness and gathered my courage to look back at him. “Any tips on how to get through this?”
His laugh was heartier this time. “No, all I know is it never goes to plan.” His face gentled, softened, relaxed. It was open like he was trying to comfort someone he could tell was exceedingly embarrassed.
“I don’t know how to function without a plan anymore.”
“Neither do I. How about we start with something easy?”
I looked to him, trying to figure out what about this was meant to be easy. My stomach was chaos and my heart was a jackhammer. “How have you been?”
“Fine. How about you?”
“Keyton, be serious.”
“You run into me backstage and are hit with all these regrets racing through your head, and you feel like you have to jump or you’ll never get your chance to say the things you’ve been rehearsing. I’m letting you off the hook, Bay. I’m fine now. Football worked out—in a way.” He shrugged.
“I haven’t been in a fight in years. I see Knox often and have a few friends here. Sure, I went to a dark place after Felicia showed up with your letter or maybe I was always there but pretending I wasn’t. It was bad for a long time. My life didn’t dissolve and crumble when you left.” A muscle in his jaw tightened and his faraway look knotted and twisted my stomach. Knowing I’d hurt him so deeply—someone I’d loved—someone I’d never stopped loving scared me.
My heart clenched, but I kept my gaze locked on his, not wanting to look away and hide my shame. I needed him to see that it was the hardest thing I’d ever done, walking out of that room and out of his life. And rushing back after a month to find him and knowing he didn’t want to see me drove me straight into my work. I’d had to make it worth it. I’d had to try to make my work worth it when it felt like I’d lost a piece of my soul.
I’d picked up bits of news about him—not from searching or deep dives, but enough to keep some of my guilt from eating me alive. But I’d allowed myself one last trip after I’d found out where he was living. I’d stood on the LA street ringing the intercom until the sun set and my fingers ached. That was when I’d known I’d have to live with my choice, the one made out of self-preservation.
Every update I’d let myself peek at had been better than the last. Season after season had ended in a national championship. Trades with even bigger signing bonuses stacked up, and then finally there had been the news of his engagement. That had hit hard—so hard I’d staggered back, clutching at my chest when I’d read it. The phone slipped from my hand and I heard the screen crack, just like my heart.
I’d sworn off looking again after that. He’d found his happiness. They’d looked so happy together. I’d swallowed my regrets and held onto the fact that he’d found someone who could love him and who was good for him and was there for him, no matter how much it had torn me up.
“And now?”
The server came over with his coffee and creamer.
I slid the sugar toward him. There were no illusions about what this was for me.
He was soon to be married. Somehow I’d thought we’d find our way back to each other in some way, but now it was finally time to have the conversation I hadn’t been able to have back in my apartment and didn’t even know if I’d have been strong enough to have when I came back.
“And now, things are still good.”
Clasping my hands around my mug, I push the air from my lungs. “Your fiancée is beautiful. I saw a picture early last year.”
He stopped drumming his fingers on the side of his mug and dropped his chin. “Is that why you invited me here? To find out about Alice?”
I jerked back. “What? No. I saw you and I wanted to talk to you. That’s all. No expectations or obligations. I wanted to congratulate you to your face. It’s been too long.” I dropped my gaze to my cup before dragging it back to him. The crashing waves of sorrow and guilt I’d tried to pretend didn’t touch me were still there. The lapping waves were getting stronger and soon I’d be waist deep with the undertow drawing me under. “And I know that’s my fault.”
“Alice and I broke up three months ago. She’s getting married early next year.”
A sound escaped my mouth that made more than a couple heads turn in our direction, including Holden and Emily.
Holden gripped the arms of his chair like he was ready to launch himself across the room.
A sharp shake of my head and he settled back into his seat.
Keyton glanced over his shoulder. “You brought back-up in case this went south?” He leaned all the way back in his seat with judgement written across all the fine ridges creasing his forehead.
I shot forward. “No, they’re always there. Unless I’m at my mom’s or in my hotel room, one of them is always around. Comes with the territory.” I shrugged. They were fixtures, and I’d forgotten what it was like to not have them there. They were a security blanket and buffer to the rest of the world. “It’s not about you. It’s about me.”