Chapter 12
TWELVE
STELLA
My phone alarm blares on the nightstand, pulling me from a deep sleep.
I’m groggy, probably from the nighttime ibuprofen I took before bed, but as my eyes flutter open, the events of the last twelve hours rush back to me like a freight train.
Emmett showing up at the door and demanding that I let him take care of me.
Coming out of the bathroom to find him elbow deep in my vibrator drawer, which might actually take the cake for the most embarrassing moment of my entire life, since I’ve acquired quite a few over the years.
Him sitting in the room, wordlessly scrolling on his phone as I stared, unable to take my eyes off him until exhaustion finally pulled me under.
I sit up, reaching for the device and killing the loud noise, my gaze wandering to the now-empty chair in the corner.
I wonder how long he stayed before he snuck out, and if Austin saw him go.
I really don’t want to have to explain my complicated history with Emmett to him—it’s why I lied about my last name in the first place.
He’s making big strides with his recovery, a great deal of which I’m attributing to his teammates keeping him motivated, even when he gets down on himself.
Emmett’s presence has given Austin a bit of normalcy, and I don’t want to risk him being uncomfortable if he thinks there’s tension between me and the man who is currently his closest friend.
Standing from the bed, I stretch, thankful that the aches and pains I was experiencing yesterday are much more manageable. As long as I don’t overdo it today, making sure I eat and take my pain meds before it gets too bad, I should be good to go.
I hurry to the kitchen, starting the coffee maker so it has time to brew while I’m in the shower.
I’m shocked to see that the entire room has been cleaned from top to bottom, the dishes from last night’s dinner sitting in the drying rack beside the sink.
Smiling to myself, I recall what a neat freak Emmett used to be, following me around and tidying the messes as I made them.
It was just one of the many ways we were different, yet complemented each other so perfectly.
Making my way to the bathroom, I twist the shower knob, steam slowly beginning to curl up toward the ceiling as I undress.
But as I reach for the hem of my t-shirt, my phone rings on the counter beside me.
I look over, groaning out loud when I see my mother’s contact info flashing across the screen.
It’s been weeks since we last spoke, unless you count the one-sided text conversation she’s been having with herself about wanting me to come home for a visit.
I told her I was taking a private gig for a few months, choosing to keep all the details about who I’m taking care of to myself, but since I’m not actually working at a hospital, she hasn’t taken it seriously.
She thinks I can just take a couple of days off to make the three-hour drive to Tinsville, which I absolutely can’t do—not that I want to, anyway.
Austin may be able to do a lot of stuff on his own now that he’s feeling better, but he certainly needs me here in case of an emergency.
I take a deep, soothing breath, answering the call. “Hey, Mom.”
“Oh, honey, there you are,” she says in the posh tone that’s far too refined for where we’re from. “I was starting to think that man you’re working for had done something awful to you. You never know with people anymore. There are perverts and serial killers lurking around every corner.”
My eyes roll so far back that I’m surprised they don’t fall right out.
“Calm down, Mom. I’m a smart woman. I’m not just running around taking jobs from people without knowing who they are.
My old supervisor, Lauren, took care of him when he was in the hospital.
He’s a very nice guy—definitely not a pervert or a serial killer. ”
She clicks her tongue, letting me know that she’s not convinced. “A lot of bad people have been described as nice right before they snapped, Stella. How do you know he isn’t just hiding behind a mask? You’re entirely too trusting.”
“Oh my God,” I say, throwing my arms up in exasperation.
She’s so dramatic all the time, worrying about the craziest things.
I’m twenty-six years old, still being treated like a helpless toddler by her parents.
It’s exhausting…and annoying. “I know because he’s a professional football player.
If he were a bad guy, surely someone would’ve made it known by now.
” As soon as the words leave my mouth, I realize I fucked up.
When I told her about the job, one of the only pieces of information I offered was that I would be in Cleveland.
And since Tinsville is very proud of their three professional athletes, there’s no way she hasn’t heard about Emmett being drafted by the Renegades.
“A football player,” she echoes, and yep.
I’m fucked. “He doesn’t play with that Hayes boy, does he?
” I hate that she calls him that, even though her own daughter still legally shares the same last name.
From the moment I returned home from my trip to UCLA, telling her that I was divorcing Emmett, she’s wanted to erase him from our lives completely.
At first, I didn’t mind it as much, because it hurt to think about him.
But as time went on, and she acted like he was never a part of me at all, I started to push back.
He gave me every single ounce of himself—he deserved better from all of us, even if it was too little, too late.
“That Hayes boy has a name. It’s Emmett, and he’s my ex-husband.
Remember?” I spit, my blood boiling in my veins at the fact that, even after all these years, she still doesn’t acknowledge my marriage.
I’ll never stop wondering if things would’ve played out differently had we gotten the kind of support we needed when times were rough.
I was just a teenager, acting on impulse and emotion.
My parents pounced as soon as they saw my weakness, driving home their point that I had made a mistake by getting tied down at eighteen.
In hindsight, it was pretty rich of them to have an opinion at all when their relationship was the butt of every joke in town.
But I listened anyway, grasping at straws to make myself feel like I hadn’t fucked up so badly, when I knew damn well that I had.
“And yes, Austin is his teammate, not that it matters.”
She sighs, the sound of her perfectly shaped nails tapping along whatever surface is in front of her.
“I knew taking this job would be a bad idea. What if this guy invites Emmett to the house, and seeing him stirs up memories of all the pain he put you through? I think you should come home. Surely, Austin can find someone else to fill the position.”
Tears of frustration sting my eyes, because no matter how many times I’ve told her that Emmett was a good husband, and that I let a small seed of doubt turn into something much bigger—with her help—she still finds a way to blame him for everything. He doesn’t deserve it. He never did.
“I’ve already seen him, Mom,” I reply. “And you’re right.
It hurt like hell. The look in his eyes when I opened the door almost fucking killed me, but I did this, not him.
All he wanted to do was build a future with me, and I threw it all away like an idiot.
So, no, I’m not coming home. I’m going to stay right here in Cleveland, help my patient get better, and hope that someday, Emmett will be able to look at me and not see the girl who broke his heart into a million pieces. ”
“Stell—”
“I’m going to be late for work,” I rush out, cutting off whatever bullshit she’s going to say next.
“Bye.” I hang up, tossing the phone onto the counter before dropping my face into my hands.
I’ve never spoken to either of my parents that way, even if they deserved it, but it feels good to say the things that have been nagging at me for years.
I know I was blinded by my desperate need for validation, but at the time, I really did think they had my best interest at heart.
They hired the most well-respected divorce lawyer around—a guy who was known for his fast results.
The words were barely even out of my mouth, and we were in his office, tears falling onto the papers as I signed.
Part of me wondered if Emmett saw the stains they left behind, a secret message to him that I was in agony over my decision.
But I went through with it anyway, taking comfort in the two people who didn’t truly care about my happiness, when I should’ve been in the arms of the man who wanted to give me the world.
I step into the shower, quietly sobbing as the water rains down on me.
Everything is so confusing. At first, I was positive he hated me, not that I’d blame him.
But last night, it felt different. Sure, he was still short and the tension between us was awkward, but for a few fleeting moments, I saw a glimpse of the old Emmett—the one who existed when we were okay.
The one who cared and wanted to ease my pain. The one who loved me.
I know I may not ever get him back fully, but at this point, I’m happy with whatever parts he’s willing to show me. I just hope I can prove to him that I’m worthy.