Chapter 46
CHAPTER FORTY-SIX
Levi
Non-stop meetings.
Over the last week, from the moment I touched down in Minneapolis, I was in meetings. Meetings with PR. With my agent. With my coaches. With teammates. Everyone and god wanted to know what the hell I was thinking with my stunt, but they were glad I was back.
I felt sick.
Robin slid into the backseat next to me and let out a breath. She looked like she’d aged five years, and that was probably my fault.
“Let’s go get dinner,” she said.
“I’m tired.”
“I know you are,” she said. “I don’t give a fuck. You owe me after this absolute shit show.”
I shrugged my shoulders as she gave directions to the driver. Our last meeting had gone well for the most part, except that she kept looking at me like she knew something was wrong.
The silence. I hated it. I hated everything.
I wanted to go . . .
Home? I was home.
My throat felt thick.
The car slowed to a stop after a few minutes and Robin opened her door.
I sighed as I got out, giving her an annoyed glance, but her annoyed look back certainly beat mine.
I’d known her for years, and in a lot of ways, she’d become a mom to me.
She’d been in this business a long time—long enough that she sported a silver bob and wrinkles and a manicure that could tear up any cisgender white man’s ego.
Robin led the way to the restaurant. It was a nice sit-down place that had insanely expensive steak, but I owed her after the shit she’d been putting up with.
It took a few minutes before we were seated, but the moment we were, she ripped off her badge, folded her hands on the table, and looked at me. “All right, Rayburn. What the fuck is wrong with you?”
I opened my mouth, but no words came out. What was I supposed to say? That I’d fallen in love with two people then had left them both crying in Texas? That I’d fucked up? That I’d lied to my best friend?
“Spill,” she demanded. “Or I start spilling blood.”
“I visited my hometown in Texas, met two people, and fell in love.”
Her perfect brows shot up. She never broke eye contact as the waiter put down a basket of fancy rolls with grains and butter. She held up a finger.
“Bring us a bottle of Syrah.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
The moment he left she leaned back in her seat. “Two people? Were they cheating on each other or something?”
I laughed and shook my head. “No. The three of us are—were—a thing. Avery is my best friend’s sister. And Mateo is his best friend. And the two of them are also in love, but they didn’t do anything about it until I showed up. And her brothers are overprotective, so we kept it a secret.”
Robin’s expressions ranged from surprise, to amusement, to her eyes rolling. “This is some real Texas shit.”
“How so?”
“Who gives a shit about her brothers?”
“I mean, I did. Considering they’re both my friends.”
“Uh-huh. Okay, so. What happened?”
I snatched a roll from the basket, earning an arched brow because in the past, I’d never touch bread on the table. Especially during a season. I took a bite and then sighed. The carbs didn’t fix a damn thing, but they gave me enough bravery to tell her everything.
By the time I finished, she was on her second glass of wine, our order was in, and it was clear Robin was mad at me too.
“You’re a fucking dumbass,” she hissed. “Why in the fuck are you back here?”
My mouth dropped. “What do you mean? Because this is my job. You would have literally come down to Texas to retrieve me.”
“Sure, I would have. But also, I think you and I both know you’re done.”
I opened my mouth but then shut it. She’d said that so . . . “Are you firing me?”
“No. I make a lot of money off you. But based on how you’ve acted this week, I don’t think you want this. Especially after hearing about those two back in Texas.”
I sat back in my chair as the waiter put our plates down. I’d ordered a massive chopped salad topped with steak and knew it wouldn’t disappoint. Robin had ordered something that was going to cost me a lot of money.
A soft, sad laugh bubbled up. “I came back here. I’m not done.”
She raised a brow. “So this isn’t a goodbye dinner?”
“Not unless you’re firing me.” We both fell silent as she cut into her steak, her lips pressing together.
She didn’t approve.
“You think I should quit?”
“I think you should do what makes you happy.”
“That’s . . . not something I thought I’d ever hear you say.”
Robin sighed and leaned back in the booth, studying me like I was a bug under a microscope. “I got someone too, you know. I met her a few months ago, but she lives in Nashville. Works as an assistant at some record label. She’s funny and smart and perfect.”
“Really? You’ve never said anything.” I frowned. “Do you do long distance?”
“We’re trying. But long distance can be hard. You can make it work, of course.”
“I think the ship has sailed for that . . .” I hadn’t even texted Avery or Mateo since the day of the fight with Austin. I owed both of them an apology. I owed both of them a lot more than that.
“From what you’ve told me, I’m not so sure they’ll just move on.”
“Well. Would you move to Nashville for her? For your person?”
“I would if I lost my star client.”
“Surely you don’t mean me.”
Robin shrugged. “I don’t feel like blowing smoke up your ass.”
I shook my head. “Well, I can safely say you’ve never done that.”
Her laugh was harsh but comforting. “Whatever you decide, Rayburn, you need to make up your mind. A season off will be good for your recovery with your shoulder, but you still need to be maintaining your body. And I need to get you on some social media campaigns and maybe even modeling.”
Ugh. “I don’t know about modeling.”
“People would pay a lot of money to see you in your underwear.”
“If I wanted to do that, I’d just start an OnlyFans.”
She paused for a moment as if she were considering it.
“Robin, no.”
“Sex positivity. You’d make a lot of money.”
“Absolutely not. I respect the hell out of sex workers, but I don’t have the temperament for it.”
“You don’t have the temperament for anything,” she sighed. “Except for pining. And torturing yourself. Are you sure you’re not a Jane Austen character?”
“I’m sure I’m a dumbass, and that’s about it.”
Another dry chuckle. “I should be glad you’re staying.”
“But . . . ?”
“You look miserable. It’s pathetic.”
I felt miserable. But I’d made the right choice for everyone, right? I’d left so they could get on with their lives. Avery and Mateo would move on and buy a house together and probably get married and live happily ever after and I’d . . .
Wish I was with them.
“Take some time to think,” she said. “You’ve got the weekend. I need an answer by Monday.”
“Okay.”
“And Levi?”
“Yeah?”
“If you stay, you need to be in this one hundred percent. I can’t handle a half-assed, sad hockey boy. There’s no market for that.”
I stepped into my apartment building, autopilot kicking in. I was full from dinner and tired from the mind-numbing activities of this week.
In a way, I was grateful for it.
It was easier not to feel anything when other people were around.
My keys jangled as I unlocked the package room and poked my head inside. There was a small stack in the corner on the shelves and I winced, realizing they all belonged to me. I’d probably pissed some neighbors off after not checking the mail for . . . seven weeks. Jeez.
I gathered all the packages and balanced them in one arm as I locked the door behind me and went to the elevator. By the time I made it to the ninth floor, the loneliness had settled in.
Unavoidable. Eventually it would go away, right? Eventually this decision would feel right.
Even my apartment felt lonely. I closed my door behind me and leaned against it. The view of the city was beautiful. Everything was nice and clean and modern and didn’t have a single drop of kitschy Texas charm to be found.
I set everything down on my kitchen counter and started sorting through it all. A couple T-shirts. A sponsorship package with some sort of hydration powder. A couple new books, a new set of sticky notes, a new set of folders.
The package at the very bottom made me freeze.
It was square. A red fragile sticker was stuck on the brown paper, a hand-scrawled address on it.
I traced the ink with my fingertips, and my heart wedged in my throat.
Part of me wondered if this was going to be a binder with a long-ass letter on how much of an asshole I was. I wished it would be. I wished that they hated me because that was easier than the idea of them being sad.
Leaving Mateo on the sidewalk . . .
Leaving Avery in her studio . . .
It haunted me. Every night.
I peeled the paper off in strips, my hands shaking as the gift beneath was revealed.
It was a sketch. A small one of the three of us. Nothing lewd or evocative, just us standing together, looking at each other. The lines were loose, but they captured . . .
They captured what I wanted more than anything else.
Tears dripped onto the frame and I wiped my eyes quickly, breathing out. I pulled my phone out and pressed call.
“What do you want?”
“I need your help,” I said. “Do you know a real estate agent?”
I heard the smile in Robin’s voice. “I sure do.”