Chapter 19
NINETEEN
LUKE
I send Clara a text to let her know that I’ll be by to see her after practice. Walking into the locker room, I shove my phone inside my bag and get dressed. I’ve already missed enough time on the ice and in the gym.
No matter what happens, I have to stay in shape. I have to practice. This is my world, and if I don’t prove myself here, the owner will assuredly find a way to get rid of me. I know I would. Nobody wants someone with a bunch of drama on their team who doesn’t play for shit.
Once I’m ready, I grab my sick and head out to the ice. I’m the first one here, which is good with me. I don’t want to be anywhere else right now. This arena is where I belong during the day and in Clara’s bed at night.
The sound of my blades slicing through the ice causes all my anxiety about my situation to disappear completely. This is my happy place. This is where I belong, and I know deep in my core that it will all be okay. I’m not really famous. The world will forget about this as soon as a new scandal hits the Internet.
“You’re here,” Eli calls out a few moments later.
Turning my head, I look over to see him skating toward me. When he stops in front of me, he crosses his arms over his chest before he dips his chin, and his gaze searches mine.
“What?” I demand.
I’m on the defense because it’s clear that he’s judging Clara and me and our love for one another. He jerks his chin then uncrosses his arms until they hang loosely at his side. My gaze searches his as I wait for his response.
“Does this mean you didn’t get let go?” he asks.
Jutting my chin upward, I look down my nose at him. “Disappointed?” I ask
Without another word, he moves toward me and wraps his arms around me in an embrace. I feel his fist against my back, and I let out a sigh. Eli skates backward slightly, his gaze finding mine.
“Not at all. I shouldn’t have judged you. Even though it’s nothing I would ever do, I shouldn’t have made you feel like you were doing anything wrong. It’s not my place.”
I’m not sure if that’s an apology or not, but I choose to believe it is and let everything he said roll off my shoulders instead of continuing to be upset by it. A few moments later, the rest of the team skates out, along with the coach.
Thankfully, nobody else says anything, and for the first time in twenty-four hours, I feel normal again. Practice is exactly what I need. I play hard and sweat harder. We have a game in two days, and I want to be ready, at least physically.
After washing the sweat off me, I change and grab my things, then pull my phone out of my bag. I look down at the screen, expecting to see a response notification from Clara, but there is nothing.
Frowning, I decide to go straight to her place. I hope she’s not pissed at me for leaving her asleep in bed. I can’t imagine she would be. It’s not like it’s the first time I’ve ever left her alone before.
After parking in the visitor’s spot at her building, I glance around the parking lot, looking for Clara’s car. I don’t see it anywhere, but she could be parked somewhere else. I didn’t notice earlier where she was parked.
Standing in front of her apartment door, I lift my hand and knock a few times. Nobody answers immediately. Frowning, I take a step backward, but I don’t leave. At least not yet. I ball my fingers into a fist and knock again, this time a bit louder.
The door swings open, and a bleary-eyed Barbara greets me. Her eyes widen, then narrow on me. “I thought you weren’t going to hurt her?” she demands.
I snort. “I’m not, but someone hurt you. Who is it?”
She shakes her head, her lips curving up slowly into a grin. “Doesn’t matter. Clara should be home soon. She had a meeting at the school a few hours ago. I honestly thought she’d be home by now. Come on inside.”
That doesn’t sound good .
Barbara snorts. “It probably wasn’t. It was with the principal, some school board people, and HR.”
I guess I said those words out loud, and she answers me, so at least there’s that, but fuck.
I take a step backward, my body ready to fight. I’m going to go down to that fucking school. But Barbara calls out my name, and my head lifts and my eyes meet hers. She shakes her head a couple times.
“Just come in. She’ll be home soon. I can’t imagine it is going to last much longer. There can’t be that much to talk about.”
My gut tells me to go and look for her, but Barbara is convinced she’ll be back soon. Instead of sitting on the sofa, I pace. I can’t sit still. I need Clara to be here. I need to know that she’s okay.
I’m not sure how long I pace the apartment, but I can’t stay there a moment longer. I glance over to Barbara and open my mouth to tell her goodbye when the front door opens. It’s Clara standing in the doorway.
I move toward her, but before I reach her, she holds up her hand. Her palm faces me, and I watch as wetness fills her eyes. Her bottom lip trembles
“Clara,” I rasp.
“It’s over, Luke.”
I shake my head once, knowing that this is a knee-jerk reaction. “I told you I can fix this, baby,” I murmur.
I watch as her eyes slowly close, then open again, and I read a resolve that wasn’t there just a few moments ago. She opens her mouth, then closes it again, inhaling a deep breath before she lets it out slowly.
Her eyes find mine. They focus, and then she lifts her chin in the air. She looks down her nose at me, her gaze never wavering, and I know she’s serious.
“Clara,” I murmur.
“Luke,” she responds. “This cannot work. Nothing about it can. You should go with your publicist’s suggestion. Get a new girl, be seen with her. Forget I ever existed.”
I move toward her but stop when I feel her palm press against my chest to keep me from getting closer. I wrap my fingers around her wrist. I could pull her closer to me, touch my lips to hers and make her forget whatever bullshit she’s got going on inside her head.
“I’m serious, Luke,” she says, her voice seemingly strong.
“Baby,” I rasp.
I’ve never felt this vulnerable before. I just told her that I love her. I’m ready to take our relationship to the next level, and now she’s telling me that she’s done with me. What the actual fuck?
“This is over,” she states, her voice clear and her tone serious.
Biting the inside of my cheek, I watch her for a moment, my gaze searching hers. I don’t believe her. She’s running scared. Instead of calling her out on her bullshit, I decide I need to prove to her that everything is going to be okay.
So, I take a step to the side, releasing her wrist when I do. I walk toward the door and reach for the handle, looking back over my shoulder before I open it and leave. Clara has spun around and is watching me, her green eyes big and sad.
“This isn’t over,” I state.
“Yes, it is,” she whispers, but even I can tell she doesn’t mean those words. She doesn’t believe them, either.