Chapter 20 #2
I buried my face in my hands, trying to ground myself in something, anything, but I was unraveling at the seams. The stitches that held my life together came apart, one by one, until I was nothing but frayed edges and open wounds.
There was no one around to put me back together, and that just made everything hurt a little more.
My dad, who was clueless about what I really needed.
My mom, who was too busy with her new family to give a shit.
My coworkers, whose doubts fueled my own.
Vincent, who was forbidden in so many ways.
And most of all, myself, because I’d failed to live up to the person I thought I would be.
Younger me thought I’d have it all by now—a thriving career, a loving partner, some semblance of peace when it came to my family.
Yet here I was, a full-grown adult, and I was as lost as ever.
Besides my friends, every aspect of my life was a mess.
I didn’t know how to clean it up because I didn’t know how I got here in the first place.
It was the first time I’d admitted it to myself. I’d been repressing my fears and emotions for so long that releasing them was cathartic. By the time my sobs slowed to hiccups, I felt a little better despite the shittiness of my situation.
I sat there, letting myself wallow for another minute before I wiped my face with the back of my hand and exited the stall.
I sent a quick thank-you to the universe for not bringing anyone in during my meltdown. This was not how I wanted to be remembered at the end of my internship.
I winced when I saw my reflection. Frazzled hair, puffy eyes, red nose. Ugh.
I didn’t have my makeup bag with me, but I fixed myself up the best I could. Once I looked somewhat presentable again, I pushed open the door and headed back to the intern office.
It was already after work hours, but I needed to finish the travel packets for the team’s upcoming winter break.
The meal plans were easy. However, I’d convinced Jones to let me add extra info like how to eat healthy while traveling and how to balance indulgence and nourishment during the holidays.
I’d rounded it out with a few of my favorite healthy holiday recipes.
He thought they were a waste of time, but I guess he didn’t want to argue when I was leaving soon anyway.
“Bye, Brooklyn.” Seth, the team’s new kit man, waved at me in passing. He gave me a shy smile, which I returned.
We didn’t interact often, but I liked him. He was a sweet kid, and kit managers were the unsung heroes of football clubs. Managing all the players’ equipment and apparel wasn’t as easy as it sounded.
Thankfully, Seth didn’t comment on my disheveled appearance. I was hopeful I could finish my work and go home with no one else being the wiser about my breakdown until I passed by the changing room.
Someone stepped out at the exact same time I walked past.
Dark hair. Lean frame. Sculpted jaw.
Vincent.
We came to a mutual standstill, and my pulse slowed to a glacial pace as we stared at each other.
“Hi,” I said, painfully aware of my ruined makeup and mascara-stained shirt. I summoned what I hoped was a convincing smile, but the sight of him made my heart twist all over again.
I missed him. I saw him every day at work, but it wasn’t the same.
That was Vincent the footballer. I missed him, Vincent the man.
The one who was obsessed with the Great British Bake Off and played pool like he was born with a cue in his hand.
Most of all, I missed how easy our relationship had been before there was a giant question mark hanging over it.
His forehead creased. His gaze swept over my face and shirt and back up again. “What’s wrong? Who made you cry?” he demanded. His unexpectedly fierce protectiveness made my throat ache with fresh emotion.
“No one. It’s my allergies.” I sniffled and wiped my nose with the back of my hand again. “The pollen is, um, killer this week.”
“Brooklyn.”
One word. That was all it took.
Fresh tears scalded my cheeks as Vincent gathered me into his arms. There was no judgment, only solid, comforting strength as I buried my face in his chest and let him hold the broken pieces of me together.
“I saw my dad earlier. We talked, but it didn’t—he was still mad about Blackcastle, and Henry asked about ISNA, and I can’t find a single good job, and I’m just so fucking overwhelmed sometimes that I feel like I can’t breathe.” I rambled on, nearly incoherent.
I was certain I wasn’t making any sense. But if crying was cathartic, then saying those words out loud was a purge. It took away their power, and Vincent surprisingly had no trouble deciphering them.
“A few things,” he said when I finished.
“One, your dad will come around. Two, fuck Henry. Three, you’ll find the perfect job when it comes along.
Waiting is better than taking a shit gig for crap pay.
As for feeling overwhelmed, you’re not alone.
We all feel it. I’d suggest starting a group for it, but I’m still traumatized by the team’s book club. ”
A small laugh escaped between the tears. “Who’s the pep talker now?”
“I learned from the best,” he said, seemingly referring to the pep talk I gave him about the Zenith partnership. “Take it from someone who’s been at rock bottom. Tout finira par s'arranger.”
My chin wobbled. “I have no idea what that means. I stopped taking French in high school because I—” I hiccupped.
“I had a crush on a German exchange student so I switched to German, but it turned out he had a girlfriend back home and I’ve never even used German after graduation!
” Apparently, my penchant for bad decisions dated back to my teenage years.
I was being a little hysterical at the moment, but emotions didn’t have boundaries. When one went haywire, so did the rest.
A chuckle rumbled through Vincent’s chest. “It means everything will work out—unless you’re talking about a relationship with the German exchange student. That obviously didn’t work out.”
My mouth twitched. “Don’t make me laugh. I’m trying to be sad.”
“You can be sad.” He rubbed a soothing hand over my back. “You can be anything you want.”
I melted into him. I wasn’t used to having someone solid to lean on, but it made all the difference. My tears slowed to a trickle far faster than in the restroom, and when I lifted my head, I was startled to realize only a few minutes had passed since I broke down in his arms.
“Sorry I got snot all over your shirt.” I hiccupped again, my face heating with embarrassment. “I’ll buy you a new one, I promise.”
“Don’t worry about it. It’s just a shirt.” Vincent studied me, his eyes dark with lingering concern. “Feel better?”
I nodded. Now that I wasn’t crying my eyes out, I was suddenly hyperaware of the fact that I was still in his arms. His body heat enveloped me, warming me from the inside out. One hand rested low on my back while his other thumb rubbed a lazy circle beneath my shoulder blade.
Sparks raced up my spine.
It was our first time being this physically close since our almost kiss. Vincent seemed to realize this as well because his muscles subtly tensed.
The silence between us shifted. Melancholy gave way to something thick and electric. It crackled just beneath the surface, and I could feel his heart race in response. It matched the frantic rhythm of my own pulse.
Ask him about the bet. According to our terms, the bet was valid as long as we lived together. He’d moved out, but we’d never officially called it off.
We’d also never addressed what happened in the kitchen. This was the perfect time to do it, but I didn’t have the emotional bandwidth for another hard conversation today.
“Are you going home for the break?” I stuck with a safer topic.
The team was off for two weeks before Christmas. Usually, the mid-season break was in January, and we hadn’t gotten one at all last year, but the Premier League’s leadership decided to shake things up this year.
Vincent shook his head. “My dad’s in Bordeaux for most of the break, and I don’t feel like being home alone.
” He hesitated, then said, “My birthday’s next week, and I threw together a last-minute Budapest trip to celebrate.
Some of the guys and I rented a villa, but there’s plenty of room.
You should join us. Carina too. Scarlett’s already coming with Asher, so it’ll be like a girls’ trip for you three. ”
Don’t read too much into it. It was a group trip, not a romantic getaway for two. Still, my stomach fluttered.
“That sounds amazing, but considering I’ll be out of a job by January, I shouldn’t be going on any last-minute trips,” I said reluctantly.
“It’ll be all-expenses-paid, minus airfare.” His dimple flashed at my shocked expression. “We’ve already covered the villa, food, and drinks. All you have to do is show up.”
“It’s your birthday. Shouldn’t we be the ones paying for you?”
He shrugged. “You are. Well, the guys are. I was only responsible for the deposit on the villa.”
I drew my bottom lip between my teeth. The invitation was tempting. I’d never been to Hungary, and getting away from London for a bit might be good for my mental health. I hadn’t left the city since Scarlett, Carina, and I took a trip to the Cotswolds over the summer.
“It’ll help clear your head,” Vincent said. “Besides, how often do you get to go on a trip sponsored by professional footballers?”
“True.” I made a decision before my more practical angels could talk me out of it. “In that case, I’m in.”