37. Chapter 37
Saint
San José is a whirlwind of media, training, and mental preparation. I'm the player I need to be. The entertainer people expect.
No one sees the ache warping my breastbone. The way it stretches my chest in all the wrong places, until my skin feels taut around my body and a little too thin.
When I offered myself as a rebound, we agreed we'd break up. For years I told myself it had to be that way with everyone, including Ames. That I didn't know how to do anything else. I seared the belief into my brain, that I shouldn't be so selfish I'd be willing to hurt people.
Now Ames and I are the closest we could be to ending things… without having ended them. It hurts like a motherfucker.
I answer every reporter's questions while keeping my feelings contained. I smile even if it doesn't reach my eyes. When I'm eating a meal with my friends, I chat with them even as the food turns to chalk on my tongue.
She could say no.
She could say she won't let anything else matter, and choose the future we can't see. Just because it's with me .
I've worked to this point in my career for fifteen years, but this is it. This could be the start of the most important journey of my life. Or the end, before it even began.