Chapter 13 #2
He follows me inside and shuts the door behind him with a soft click.
I sit on my bed, lock my gaze with his, and shake my head at him.
His eyes analyze me like I’m an impossible equation messily scribbled on a blackboard waiting to be solved.
I can see his pupils getting fat as they adjust to my bedroom’s low luminosity.
“You were my first line of defense.” I keep shaking my head, sadness, exhaustion, and disappointment washing over me.
Henry squats, catching my hand between his.
I pull it away, but he goes after my elbows as if trying to ground me and prevent me from escaping.
There’s nothing I can do to fight that firm grip of his and the fact that deep down, I want him to comfort me. “And you … you left!”
“Shit, I’m sorry, Bells,” he says, concern clouding over his features. “It was my mom. She wanted to hear how China went.”
That’s not what I meant!
“You left me!” Angry tears pour down my cheeks again. I can taste the bitterness when they reach my mouth.
I know Henry’s gone through a lot and that my mommy issues and dealing with the unbearable anger I still harbor against him might not compare to his emotional distress. But he followed me into my room, and I have no shame in making this about me.
Henry has no idea what his absence for the last five years did to me, or about what I suspect it will continue to do when his time as my provisional coach comes to an end.
“You will leave again as soon as you gather enough money for college, right?”
His head bows as if weighed down by an unexpected blow of disappointment.
“You’ll never forgive me, will you?”
“No!” I spit out the lie when all I truly want is to forgive and forget this ever happened.
Why wouldn’t I forgive him when none of it was his fault?
Henry did what he thought best at the time.
Yet, there’s a genuine pain anchoring me, and it’s not allowing me to move on past the hurt as quickly as I thought I would after talking to him and listening to what he had to say.
And I know he knows, but my emotions are all over the place, and I’m well aware of it.
Henry snorts with a smile that reeks of playful annoyance, running his hands through his dark hair, messing it up.
“College is in my plans,” he says in his deep, velvety voice that I’m still getting used to. “But what if I apply for it here in New York?” He stares at me, waiting patiently for my reaction, his fingers alternating between drumming my elbows and applying soft pressure around them.
“You should stick to your plan. I don’t need you doing me any favors, Henry. If you want to stay, fine. But don’t do it for me.”
“I could stay,” he says, enunciating every word with delicate care. “I want to.”
I narrow my eyes at him, and his mouth twitches. He used to do that whenever he got nervous, especially when we got in trouble and had to lie our way out of whatever mischief we got involved in while growing up together.
He’s hiding something.
“Why are you really here, Henry?” I challenge him. “Why the sudden change of plans? You should be playing tennis, not going to college.” Or both, at least, but not just the latter.
He shuts me up by parting my legs with his knee to make space for him to kneel in front of me, squeezing my elbows harder.
I can feel my breathing stopping and a hot, tingling sensation stirring up in my belly.
It makes me lose focus on our conversation.
Henry is so tall that even on his knees, his gaze is almost level with mine as I sit on the edge of the bed.
All I can do is stare back at him with my mouth slightly parted.
My eyes betray me as they scan his face and stop when they reach his lips.
Crap, crap, crap.
I look away. But it’s Henry. It’s just Henry. I’ve been this close to him, if not even closer, in the past. We’ve had countless sleepovers growing up and licked the same popsicle melting under the harsh sun on the many summers we spent together when he lived in Jersey, for Christ’s sake.
“Bells …” The tone in his voice is pleading to the point of sounding painful.
“Take a good look at me.” His big body is pressed against my legs, and I can see his chest rising and falling, and it’s doing something to me, to have him this close, looking like this, looking at me and using his new stupid grown-up voice.
God, I hate him.
“I’m on my fucking knees. Begging you to forgive me.”
He tilts my chin until our eyes meet.
“I was a stupid kid. I was hurting and scared. And I thought pushing you away would protect you. I figured if you stayed mad at me, it’d hurt less for both of us. Or that you’d forget me altogether.”
For a long moment, all I can hear is the sound of our out-of-sync breaths as he allows his words to sink into my brain for the tenth time and make sense of his reasons once and for all.
I get why he did what he did. I do, but there’s a thorn in my foot that I can’t shake out no matter how hard I try.
I sigh.
“What if my dad hadn’t called?” I muse. “Would you have sought me out eventually? Or would you still be in Chicago, living your life and not talking to me?”
His jaw muscle clicks in reply, and a subtle pop echoes through his clenched teeth.
“So besides my dad offering you a shit ton of money to do this for him, why don’t you tell me the real reason why you’re here?”
For you, I wish he would say. I’m here because of you.
But he doesn’t say it, and I shouldn’t have the inexplicable urge for him to do so. He doesn’t say anything, which says it all. Instead, he stares back at me, eyes tortured with feeling.
“You’re just here for the money,” I scoff, letting out a humorless laugh.
The corners of my lips twitch into the saddest smile in the world, not wanting to believe it but not blaming him either for allowing himself to be enticed by my dad’s Trainer Starter Pack Deal.
Henry’s family had struggled so much financially that when he saw the opportunity to turn things around, he couldn’t pass it up.
“So why don’t I write you a check for whatever amount you’re looking to make out of this, and let’s stop pretending you actually care.”
Breaking away from his grasp, I push myself up from the bed to grab my phone from my nightstand, unplugging the cord with unnecessary force.
“That’s not what this is.” Henry jumps to his feet in a graceful, powerful, feline manner. “That’s not why I’m here.” His mouth twitches again, and I could laugh at the irony if it weren’t for the fact that the disappointment is threatening to swallow me whole.
“Once my dad finds someone else, you’ll go back to whatever plans you made for your life, and I’ll carry on with mine. So how much?”
You’ll leave me again, and we’ll inevitably drift further apart.
“Stop trying to throw money at your problems.” He chuckles in a way that lets me know I might be driving him crazy. He’s been teasing me about this since I offered to pay him to get back into tennis. It doesn’t work this time.
Instead, I click on Gemma’s contact, hold my phone to my ear, and run a hand down my face. A desperate need to leave the house invades me.
“Come on, Bells,” he says, serious this time, taking a few steps my way and closing the distance between us. “I know you’re pissed and tired, but I’m sure I can help you with that. Stay. You aren’t escaping to Gemma’s, are you?”
He could potentially help me feel better; he always could.
But I’m way past the pissed-off line. I’m sad and disappointed to realize Henry was doing great without me and wouldn’t have come back if he didn’t need the money.
But mostly, I’m heartbroken to the point that I’m having trouble breathing because my mom’s words keep reverberating inside my head.
An unwanted baby will ruin your career forever. Trust me.
Henry leans against the wall and drags a hand through his hair, which is beyond sexy and unruly tonight. I would’ve teased him about it to break the tension and messed up his hair to make it look crazy if I didn’t feel like my chest was about to rip itself in half.
Clearing my throat, I take a deep breath and brush the tears off my cheeks when I hear Gemma’s voice on the line.
“Gemms? … Yes, I’m back … No, everything’s okay …
Can I come over? … I don’t think that’s a good idea …
Because I’m exhausted and don’t have anything nice to wear …
I know, but I just want to hang out if that’s okay …
Sounds good … Could you send Vladimir to pick me up?
Tony’s driving my parents tonight … Okay, I’ll meet him outside in a few minutes … Thanks, bye.”
“She wants you to go to the party with her, doesn’t she?” Henry asks in a dull tone, as if he were expecting it from Gemma.
“It doesn’t matter because I’m not going,” I say, shuffling around the room as I gather my things to stuff them inside a small bag.
“You’re really leaving?” Henry thought I would stay and watch my tapes as I always do. It’s a mandatory ritual, and he knows it. I’m methodical about these things, or I used to be. But right now, everything feels chaotic, like I’m no longer in control of myself.
“I am,” I say, walking past him. “I have to.”
I need to get my mind off things. All I do is train, travel, and play tennis.
And it’s all I’ve known since I was a kid.
I love it, it’s what I live for, but I will go insane if I stay home tonight with my self-sabotaging, nagging thoughts.
And right now, Henry can’t help me. He’s part of the reason that’s causing my current unstable emotional state.
I need Gemma.
“It hurts to see you like this,” he says. “You need to stop allowing every little thing that happens to affect you in the worst possible way. You weren’t like this before. The Belén I remember used to be happier.”