Chapter 31
Radio Silence
I practically launched myself out of my truck like some kind of action hero, except instead of saving the world, I was trying to figure out how I'd managed to spectacularly bomb what should have been the perfect night.
The wrestling match felt like a lifetime ago.
Brooke had vanished before I was even out of the ring, and the hollow ache in my chest told me everything I needed to know about why.
I'd sent dozens of texts. Called until my phone died. Nothing. The silence was deafening, suffocating, like being trapped underwater while everyone else breathed normally above the surface.
My gaze lifted to the entrance, and I forced a smile when her friend Davina pushed through the door of her building.
"Hey." My pace slowed before stopping in front of her. "What…"
She threw up her hand, stopping me. "She knows."
My brows pulled together. "She knows what?"
She crossed her arms over her chest. "About the bet."
My face twisted with confusion. "What be…" The words died in my throat as reality crashed down on me like a building collapsing.
Fuck.
The ground shifted beneath my feet. The bet. The fucking bet. The stupid, ridiculous, completely-forgot-it-even-existed bet that had started this whole thing. My face went numb, then hot, then cold. I felt like I was going to throw up.
The bet was so completely irrelevant to how I felt about her. That may have been what pushed me to get up and talk to her, but it wasn't what kept me coming back. There was an instant attraction, and the chemistry. God, the chemistry. It was all real, but I wasn't sure she'd believe it.
"And she doesn't want to talk to you."
My heart didn't just drop, it shattered. Pieces of it scattered through my chest, each shard cutting deeper than the last. "Davina, listen, I can explain…"
"It's not me you need to convince, Romeo."
"Maybe not, but you're her best friend and I don't want you thinking I'm some kind of... of," I gestured wildly, my hands shaking, "bet-making monster who goes around breaking hearts for sport!"
Davina sighed, and for a moment, the hardness in her eyes softened.
"Look, I have no idea why you approached her that night.
Maybe it was a bet, maybe it was a dare, maybe you lost a game of rock-paper-scissors.
But what I do know is that the way you look at her?
Like she hung the moon and personally arranged all the stars? That can't be faked."
My chest did a weird, fluttery thing; hope and despair competing for dominance. "Really?"
"Really. I've never seen her happier than she's been with you.
For me, it doesn't matter how it started because I can see it's so much deeper now.
Maybe it was fate. Maybe the universe has a twisted sense of humor.
" She shrugged. "But here's the thing, if this had happened at any other point in Brooke's life, she might be able to see that.
Right now, though? She's convinced she doesn't deserve someone like you. "
I let out a sound that was part laugh, part sob.
"Someone like me? I once got my head stuck in a fence trying to retrieve a frisbee.
I'm not exactly prince material here." I ran my hand over my face.
"If I were half the man she thought I was, I would have just told her the truth from the beginning. "
Davina tilted her head, studying me with uncomfortable intensity.
"Would you, though? She met you the night of her divorce.
Days after her ex reminded her that she was 'nothing.
'" The way she said it made my hands clench into fists, made me want to find that jerk and show him what nothing felt like.
"So you walking up and saying, Hey, my buddies bet me I couldn't take you home tonight.
Yeah, that wouldn't have gone over well either. "
"So what do I do?" I threw my hands up, my voice breaking. "I don't want to lose her, Davina. I can't lose her."
"Why?" She crossed her arms. "Why don't you want to lose her?"
I stood there, probably looking like a man watching his whole world crumble, and then it hit me. The reason. The real, honest-to-God reason that had been living in my chest for months.
"Because she's my person." The words came out soft.
"I'm in love with her. I love being around her, and when she's not with me, I miss her.
Like, miss her so much it physically hurts.
I miss the way she laughs at my terrible jokes and how she snorts when she thinks something is really funny.
I miss how she always steals the last bite of my food but pretends she doesn't want any when I offer to share.
I miss how she twists and turns all night long until she's completely cocooned in the blankets and I'm left freezing. "
My voice was getting stronger now, more certain. "I miss how she fits perfectly against my chest when we're watching movies. I miss how she hums 90s hits when she's cooking and doesn't even realize she's doing it. I miss how she argues with the TV during her favorite shows."
Davina's expression softened. "Then you need to convince her that regardless of how it started, what you have is real. And that starts with complete honesty."
"I've been honest with her about everything else."
"Then you need to tell her that." She patted my shoulder. "Good luck, Matt. You're going to need it."
I was going to need more than luck. I was going to need a miracle, a really good speech, and maybe some kind of divine intervention.
I slipped into the apartment complex behind someone leaving and rode the elevator up to her floor. My palms were sweating. My heart was beating to some kind of jazz rhythm against my rib cage. I'd never been so terrified in my life.
Standing in front of her door, I took a deep breath and knocked once.
Nothing.
I knocked again, a little louder this time.
Still nothing.
"Brooke," I called out, probably loud enough for half the floor to hear. "I know you're in there."
"Go away!" came her muffled voice through the door, and the pain in it nearly brought me to my knees. "I don't want to talk to you!"
"Damn it," I muttered, pressing my forehead against the door. The wood was cool against my skin, but it did nothing to calm the fire burning in my chest. "Brooke, please. Just open the door and talk to me."
Silence. The kind of silence that felt like death.
"Please just let me explain. I know how this looks, but…"
The door suddenly jerked open, and I nearly face-planted into her apartment.
"Fine." She stepped back. "You want to explain? Explain. But keep it down, Mrs. Peterson next door already thinks I'm running some kind of fight club over here."
She looked like she'd been crying. Her eyes were red-rimmed, her cheeks blotchy. Seeing her like this, knowing I was the cause, felt like someone had reached into my chest and started squeezing my heart with a fist.
I stepped inside, and she closed the door behind me. "Thank you. Really. I know you don't have to…"
"What are you doing here, Matt?" Her voice was tired, defeated. Broken. "What could you possibly say that would make this better?"
"I want to explain. I need to explain."
"Okay." She crossed her arms, creating a barrier between us. "Let's start with the big one. Was this all a bet? Was I just some kind of… of joke to you?"
"No." I shook my head emphatically, desperate for her to see the truth. "This was real. Is real."
"Did it start with a bet, Matt?" Her voice got higher with each word, more fragile.
"No, but…" I paused, knowing what I was about to say was going to destroy everything. "I lost a bet."
I watched her face change, watched the realization hit her. Her face went pale, then red, then pale again. "So you lost a bet and…"
"My friends got to pick who I went home with that night." The words came out in a rush, like ripping off a bandage.
Her eyes filled with tears, and seeing them felt like watching someone torture a puppy. "They thought it would be funny because I'm the fat girl, right? Let's see if Matt can go through with it?"
"I'm not going to stand here and try to guess what they were thinking," I said quickly, taking a step toward her.
"But I can tell you what I was thinking.
When I turned around and saw you, I thought you were gorgeous.
There was no hesitation. There was no disappointment.
There was no internal pep talk. I saw you and thought, Holy shit, she's beautiful. "
I reached out instinctively, but she pulled away like I'd burned her. My arm dropped to my side.
"To me, it didn't matter why they picked you because I couldn't wait to meet you. I was grateful they picked someone I was genuinely attracted to."
She looked down at the floor, shaking her head. When she spoke, her voice was barely above a whisper. "All I wanted was honesty, Matt. You knew how important that was to me."
"I know, and the minute I walked away from my friends and started talking to you, the bet was over. Forgotten. Done."
"I just wanted honesty." She looked up at me, and the pain in her eyes nearly destroyed me. "That's all I ever wanted."
"Brooke…" I ran my hand through my hair. "I'm sorry for not being honest about that one thing, but I'm not sorry for anything else because…"
"Because you never would have met me otherwise." Her voice dripped with hurt. "You never would have come and talked to me, right?"
I felt my lips curve up in a small smile. "Yeah, but not for the reason you're thinking."
"Then what?"
"I never would have come and talked to you because I didn't want a relationship. I wanted meaningless hookups arranged by my teammates, knowing there were no strings attached. Knowing I didn't have to worry about getting hurt again after..." I swallowed hard. "After my ex."
"So what was your plan that night?" Her voice was sharp now, cutting. "Lead me on? Take me home? Sleep with me and disappear? What was the plan, Matt?"
"I don't know what my plan was," I admitted, the words feeling like broken glass in my throat. "But I've never lied to you. Ever. I never would have led you on. The moment I started talking to you, everything changed. The bet became irrelevant."
"I can't do this." She moved toward the door, and panic flooded my system.
"Don't let something so insignificant ruin what we have."
"Insignificant?" She whirled around, and I saw the exact moment her hurt transformed into rage. "Matt, we had trust. That's gone. I feel like an idiot. Like everyone's been laughing at me behind my back for months."
She walked to the door and pulled it open. "You should go." She stared straight ahead, not looking at me.
I didn't want to leave. Every fiber of my being was screaming at me to stay, to fight harder, to not give up. But I could also see that she was overwhelmed, hurt, and probably barely holding herself together.
"I'll go," I said quietly, walking toward the door. "But this isn't over, Brooke."
I stopped in front of her, close enough to smell her perfume, close enough to see the tears she was fighting back. "This isn't how our love story ends. This is just the part where the guy has to prove he's worthy of the girl. And I'm going to prove it."
I stepped outside, and she closed the door behind me. Not quite a slam, but definitely not gentle.
"Well," I said to the empty hallway, my voice echoing off the walls. "That could have gone better."
I had no idea how to fix this, but I was determined to do whatever it took. Even if it killed me.