Chapter 11 Lilly
ELEVEN
LILLY
“Who is he?” my mom asks while we are getting our nails done, and I check my phone.
We’ve been at the resort and spa in Tucson, Arizona, for a few hours now, and are on our second beauty treatment after a relaxing massage.
I arch a brow, not even knowing why I prolong telling her. It’s inevitable.
“Who said anything about a he?”
She gives me an oh, please look. “Only men can make us frown and smile at the same time.”
“Ian Weston,” I whisper.
Her eyes bulge out. “Does your father know?”
I feel my brows furrow. “Of course not.”
She chuckles. “I’d like to see his face. His daughter and his favorite player. Now that has a ring to it.”
I keep quiet, and she turns serious. “Your father being a football player and then a coach contributed, but it’s not the sole reason our marriage failed.
” She inhales deeply. “I knew who he was. He tried his best, given the circumstances. My relationship with your father shouldn’t affect who you want to be with. Except maybe for his players.”
“Thanks, Mom,” I say, not hiding the sarcasm in my tone.
My mom drops the subject, quickly turning to fill me in on all her neighborhood gossip. Who knew Scottsdale was filled with such interesting characters?
Body relaxed from the massage, mani and pedi done, and face glowing, plump from the facial, we head to our hotel suite.
Every time Mom and I meet, we try to spend as much quality time together as possible, battling the constant melancholy of knowing we won’t see each other for a while.
She lives in Arizona with her new husband, and I am busy with my business in San Diego.
This trip is much needed, even though I miss Ian. He’s never far away from my thoughts.
Getting ready for dinner, my eyes instinctively travel to the TV screen. The game is on, and I search for Ian on the field. As if my heart is a compass, the arrow points straight toward him, finding him quickly.
“My baby is in love,” Mom says, eyes glistening.
Lying to parents never works. They instinctively know the truth, so I prefer to keep silent, trying to ignore analyzing how deep my feelings run for Ian. That territory has hazard written all over it.
“Will it ever get better?” I ask, my gaze returning to the screen to see him throwing a long pass. “I want him to always win so he’s happy. I can’t stand it when something bothers him.”
My mom sends me a look full of understanding. “Loving someone comes with wanting to make that person happy, but it’s not your responsibility.”
It sounds logical, but I can’t help myself.
I am about to play the game on my phone, so I can glance at it over dinner, when from the corner of my eye, I catch someone dropping onto the field.
My phone clatters to the floor. I rush in front of the TV, needing to know Ian is safe, only to realize the one who is hurt is Levi.
“They get injured all the time,” my mom tries, but something feels off as the players gather around Levi.
The game is interrupted, skyrocketing my trepidation. My heart hammers so loud, it might crack my chest.
Breath lodged in my throat, I stare shell-shocked as the paramedics take Levi off on the gurney. Ian appears like a lone cliff in the middle of a tsunami. His hurt tugs at my heartstrings, making me an emotional mess.
Levi will bounce right back, I tell myself, but it doesn’t help. I think of Amelie next, and my stomach knots. The worry nauseates me. I should be there with them, not on a freaking spa trip, only to feel bad for even thinking that. Time spent with my mom is precious.
“I need to head back home,” I tell her, and pick up the phone discarded on the floor. My fingers shake so badly that it wouldn’t surprise me if it slipped out of my hold again.
I search for the next flight only to see that the first one available is tomorrow morning at 7:30 a.m. It’s a nonstop flight that arrives in San Diego at 9:00 a.m.
Frustration gets the better of me, and I toss the phone on the bed, sitting on the edge.
The weight of my turmoil presses heavily down on me. Overcome by emotions, I close my eyes. Tears stream down my cheeks as I cry softly. It could have been him on the field. The thought debilitates me, but I can’t stop my brain from spinning scenarios that only worsen my anguish.
My mother sits next to me and takes my hand, offering me her support.
The night is already ruined, so we watch the end of the game in silence.
Mom orders room service.
My appetite is gone. I push the plate aside, but my mom says, “The first step in helping the one you love is helping yourself first. So, eat.”
I take a few bites, but the food tastes bland. Nothing is okay. Nothing will be okay until I can hug him and reassure myself that he is fine.
“Sorry for ruining our girl time,” I say meekly.
She pats my hand, smiling fondly at me. “We’ll have another one. Don’t worry. I hope this young man knows how fortunate he is to have you in his life.”
I focus back on the game, watching as the Sharks decimate their opponent. But that’s not the news. The news is that Levi is in surgery.
I try to call Ian, but I only get his voicemail, making the following hours agonizing as I toss and turn in bed with no hope of finding peace, until I see his text.
Sorry for not picking up your call. I hope you have the best time with your mom.
I immediately call him, and he answers right away.
“Shouldn’t you be asleep?” He tries for levity, but his labored breathing betrays him.
“Ian…” My voice cracks.
“It’s bad. I don’t fucking know what to do.”
My heart shatters, breaking into a hundred pieces for him.
“Let it all out. I’m here, baby. Always.” The words rush out of me, resounding with unalterable truth.
The moment I land, I rush out of the airport.
The Uber ride takes forever, and with my nerves strained, I am a wired ball of anxiety. I could throw up at any moment.
I am a jittery mess, and no breathing exercise seems to calm my anguish. I need to see Ian right now. The instant the driver pulls up to the building, I jump out of the car, hurrying inside.
The seconds it takes me to get to Ian edge on forever.
Noticing his door ajar, I burst inside his loft. Seeking him out, I come to an abrupt halt.
He sits on the sofa, face tipped down, shoulders hanging. It’s not good. Tears instantly gather in my eyes, and I murmur his name. Hearing me, he abruptly stands up, and I see his red-rimmed eyes. The forlorn look shadowing his gorgeous face kills me.
I jump into his arms, wrapping myself around him, wishing to take all his anguish and make it better. He holds on to me like I am his only safeguard, surrounded by the deep end.
I would give anything to alleviate his pain.
“I’m so sorry. How is Levi?”
Ian places me down and drags a hand down his face.
“I was there earlier. The doctor told him that he won’t be able to play again. His knee is shredded,” he says, sighing deeply and balling his hands at his sides.
I take his fisted hands in mine, caressing his knuckles. That’s bad.
“And Amelie?” I choke out.
“She’s with him, but he’s upset so…”
What he doesn’t say has my insides clenching with worry.
He shrugs, not hiding the dejected look.
“Their relationship will overcome this.”
He offers a nod that does nothing to ease the tension hanging in the air, making it hard to breathe.
I don’t know what to do or say. Helplessness crashes over me like a tidal wave—unexpected and brutal. Ian looks outside the floor to ceiling window, his hands tucked in his sweatpants pockets.
Listening to my gut instinct, I lock my arms around his torso, kissing the spot between his shoulder blades. He stiffens for just a second before he relaxes, and I breathe a sigh of relief.
“Can I do something?” I would do anything to ease him.
“You’re helping me by just being here. Sorry if the company sucks.” He lets out a sad chuckle that clenches my heart.
I round him to be face-to-face. Rising on my toes, I palm his face. “You could never suck at anything.”
He avoids looking at me, gulping. “I failed yesterday.”
“It wasn’t your fault.” But it’s like my words don’t register, so I insist, “It was an accident. An awful accident.”
He shakes his head, features taut. Guilt wages carnage in his midnight eyes.
“Banks was free. I saw him but…”
I pull his face down to be at eye level. “Blaming yourself won’t help. It won’t help Levi either. It was an accident.”
“An accident,” he repeats, as if in a trance.
His gaze drops to my lips. I am about to erase the last inch when he drops onto the sofa, resuming his position and holding his face between his hands.
“How was your visit with your mother?”
I have been on the direct path of falling in love with him, but at his interest, I get the confirmation that I am in love with him—truly, deeply, irrevocably. He tore all my walls down and breached my heart, making it his, more and more, with each passing day.
Today is not about our feelings, but just getting over this loss.
“It’s always nice to catch up with Mom. She’s my other best friend,” I say meekly. I don’t feel chatty when he’s suffering.
A genuine smile tips the corners of his lips up, care shining in his eyes.
“Good. I am happy for you, flower girl. You deserve to be loved.”
I love him so much. He’s the best.
My stomach grumbles and I place a hand on it to make it stop. I didn’t bother eating before I flew out of Tucson. But it’s nearing lunch, and apparently, I can’t suppress my biological needs for too long.
“Ignore it.”
Instead, he places an order for Italian, ordering my favorite, ravioli with extra parmesan.
After he takes the order and tips the food delivery guy, I help him place the contents on the coffee table. I open his first, handing him the fork and knife for his grilled beef and vegetables.
Even though I’m hungry, my appetite is gone. The food is tasteless.
We eat in silence while I steal glances at him, thinking he’s not number three, he’s not a number at all, but the one who matters, erasing everything that came before him.