PARIS
THIRTY-FOUR
“I think that’s everything,” Mr. Grant says, closing his laptop. “I really appreciate you taking care of those contracts for me. I swear, without you girls, this whole franchise would burn to the ground.”
I huff a laugh, my chest filling with pride.
It’s nice to feel needed, and to be told repeatedly that I’ve made an impact.
Just a handful of months ago, I had no idea what it was like to work outside the home, or if I’d even have much to offer with my inexperience.
The Renegades welcomed me with open arms, truly accepting me as a part of their family and giving me the kind of independence I’d only ever dreamed about.
Even though my life has been a roller coaster lately, I’m still so grateful to be where I am.
It’s been almost a week since I told Austin I needed a break, and I’d be lying if I said any of it has been easy.
We’re both staying busy—him with his demanding coaching schedule and me with balancing everything I have going on.
Even so, he’s still the first thing on my mind when I wake up each morning and the last face I see before I drift off at night.
I miss everything, from his warm smile to the way I felt so safe wrapped in his arms. It’s been a struggle not to pick up the phone and beg him to forgive me for telling him we needed a break, but I know I can’t. I’m not ready for that yet.
Gathering my things, I bid my boss adieu, returning to my desk to add a few notes to the new staff contracts and send them to Mr. Grant’s lawyer.
With the regular season coming so quickly, we’re in a hurry to get things finalized before things around here get even crazier.
It’s been a welcome distraction, keeping my mind occupied so I don’t have time to think about the dumpster fire I’ve single-handedly turned my life into recently.
It’s better than wallowing in sadness or staring at the elevator doors, wondering if today will be the one where we end up crossing paths and I fall apart all over again.
At this point, I’m not even sure if I’d want to see him.
On one hand, my days haven’t been the same without his impromptu visits to this floor.
But on the other, my resolve has been hanging by a thread since the moment he left my bedroom, and I don’t want to set us back any further by getting too close before he’s had enough time to think about what he wants.
I send the contract on my screen to the printer’s queue, and pages begin sliding into the tray underneath.
But just like it always does, the ink runs out right on schedule, causing the entire project to pause.
I grumble a few quiet curse words under my breath, pushing back in my chair and heading in the direction of the supply closet.
I’ve been avoiding it all week, not wanting to relive the memories that have been made within those walls since I started working here.
But it looks like my luck has run out, because getting these documents on Mr. Grant’s desk is the most time-sensitive task I have today.
Padding down the hallway, I turn into the dark room, flipping on the light switch.
I try my best to ignore the pain in my stomach when I think of all the times Austin snuck in here after me, but it’s no use.
By the time I reach the back shelving unit, where we keep our stash of printer ink, my eyes are already swimming with tears.
Flashbacks of the first time he touched me play like a slideshow in my mind, his gentle fingers skating over the bump on my head to make sure I wasn’t seriously injured.
Every secret kiss and hidden touch we’ve shared in this room somehow feel like they happened just yesterday and forever ago at the same time.
I hate myself for not being strong enough to believe that Austin could want me just the way I am.
I hate that I let Braxton’s words get into my head, and that it resulted in me hurting the most amazing man I’ve ever met.
But most of all, I hate that my children have asked for him every day, wondering when he’s coming to see them next.
This morning, I overheard Rhys telling Rowan that he was afraid Coach Baker might forget about them now that he’s coaching the big guys.
All I wanted was to keep their hearts safe, but now I’m struggling with the fact that my own insecurities and brokenness may have cost them a hell of a lot more.
Just as I’m reaching for one of the small black boxes on the shelf, a quiet ding in the distance has me freezing where I stand.
I used to get so excited to hear that sound, the possibility of him emerging from the elevator with a coffee in his hand causing butterflies to flap wildly in my stomach.
I’d count down the minutes until he arrived, desperate for just a glimpse of him even when he was stopping by for other reasons.
But now, that same quiet noise, followed by the thick metal door grinding along the track, makes me want to lock myself inside this room so I don’t have to face the reality of my decision.
I’m at work, though, and I can’t stay in here forever. I have a job to do.
My heart pounds like a drum inside my rib cage, my palms sweaty as I close my fingers around the box of ink and walk toward the door.
My feet feel heavier with every step I take, rounding the corner and heading back to my desk.
I expect to see him there, a devastatingly handsome yet heartbreaking reminder of how fucked up I am, but his face isn’t the one staring back at me when I enter the reception area.
Instead, Stella waits at my desk, the understanding behind her eyes far more than I deserve after what I did to her best friend.
“Hi,” I say, conjuring up the closest thing to a smile that I’m capable of. She returns it with about the same enthusiasm, lifting a Brew-La-La cup for me to see. My heart squeezes in my chest, the backs of my eyes prickling with emotion because I know she didn’t bring it on a whim.
“Thought you might need a pick-me-up,” she offers, setting the white paper cup on my desk.
I can smell the caramel before I even reach for it, grateful for the familiar scent as I lift it up and hug it to my chest. I’m immediately transported back to my very first day with the Renegades, where Austin insisted that I try what he claimed to be the best cappuccino Cleveland had to offer.
It became a daily thing—something I looked forward to every morning because it meant seeing him.
“Thank you.” I bring the drink to my lips and tip it back, enjoying the way it warms my throat as I swallow.
I swear, the caffeine hits my soul on contact, making me feel a little more human as I bring my attention back to her.
“What brings you all the way to this side of the city?” I pause, my expression falling. “I mean, besides the coffee.”
She casually rests her elbows on the high-top desk, her eyes searching mine. “I just wanted to check on you.” Her tone is kind and soothing, which I’m thankful for, since I’m nowhere near worthy of it. “How are you holding up?”
I sigh, placing the coffee down before plopping into the chair. My frame sags, my body feeling as though I’ve aged a hundred years over the past week. “Not great. I miss him. How is he?”
Her shoulder tugs into a halfhearted shrug. “Sad. Moping around like he doesn’t know what to do with himself.” She swallows, her brows pulling inward. “What happened, Paris? Talk to me.”
My dull, distant stare falls to the cup in front of me, my defeated smile quivering.
“There isn’t much to say, really. Everything was great, then I ran into my ex-husband at the Gladiators game, and the things he said kind of…
freaked me out. I started thinking about the impact it would have on my kids if Austin woke up one day and decided that I wasn’t what he wanted.
They’ve already pretty much lost their father and both of our families because of me. I can’t put them through that again.”
She tilts her head, confused. “You have to know that absolutely none of that was your fault. Your ex had every opportunity to be in your children’s lives, but he chose himself instead.
Anyone that sides with him or expects you to stay in an unhappy relationship when you deserve so much more isn’t worth a moment of your time and energy.
They’re the ones missing out, but I promise you, the rest of us won’t let a day go by without reminding those little ones how loved they are. ”
My teeth sink into my lower lip, my heart swelling with gratitude, even through all the sadness. Her expression goes somber, a regretful sigh leaking from her lungs as she continues.
“I know you think you aren’t enough. Trust me, I know.
This whole lifestyle is scary and confusing, and we’re quick to let doubt creep in when we see what the world has to offer to our guys.
Divorcing Emmett in college was the worst decision I’ve ever made, but at the time, I thought I was sparing us both from inevitable heartbreak.
One small seed of doubt robbed us of so many years, and I’d give anything to get them back.
” Her watery eyes find mine, the pain of her memories so heartbreakingly evident.
“You’re more than enough to keep Austin happy until the end of time, Paris. You just have to let him in.”
My voice is choked, my throat tight and sore from holding back sobs. “I wish I could just unlearn everything I’ve ever been told. Why is it so hard?”
She smiles softly, reaching across the desk. I raise my hand, settling it into her open palm as she squeezes tight. “You’ll get there. And I have no doubt that he’ll still be waiting when you do.”
Warmth spreads through my limbs, comforting me. “Thank you, Stella. For being so kind to me when I hardly deserve it.”
She waves a dismissive hand, tsking. “Sure you do. We’re all a little fucked up in one way or another.
What’s important is that we stick together and give grace where it’s needed.
In fact, what are you doing this weekend?
The Renegades have a home game on Sunday, but I think we’re all going to Jett and Bailey’s the night before for dinner.
You should come. Even if you’re not quite ready to get to the bottom of things with Austin, it’ll be good to have your support system close. ”
I sigh, my posture deflating as I sit back in my chair. “I can’t. The boys need haircuts, then I’m taking them shopping for school clothes and supplies. They start on Tuesday, so we’ll be stuck doing it right alongside every other family that procrastinated.”
She cringes in response, chuckling under her breath. “You’re a brave soul for that. Let us know if you need anything. You know the girls and I are always happy to help where we can.”
“I will.”
We say our goodbyes, me thanking her for the coffee delivery, and her telling me to let her know if I change my mind about Saturday.
Even though I know I still have some soul-searching to do, talking to Stella has given me a renewed sense of hope that the future I’ve always dreamed of is still a possibility, and that one day, I’ll be able to receive love and not be so afraid of losing it.