Chapter 43
Forty-Three
Gray
The back door opens and closes quietly before I’m ready.
Because I know what I have to do.
I just…I’m not sure I have the strength to follow through.
The stories.
The derision.
Her book being pulled.
Fuck. Fuck.
And worst of all—
I’ve had a taste of how beautiful it can be to have her…and I’m going to have to let her go, anyway.
“I know the articles are bad,” she says. “But my team is good and I know the Grizzlies PR team is equally as talented. We just…”
She keeps talking, but I’m not really hearing her.
Not when the headlines designed to provoke are on the fucking internet in black and white—
Pucks, Passion, and Porn: Has the Captain Gone Too Far This Time?
Grizzlies Captain in Hot Water (and Hot Scenes): Management ‘Monitoring Situation’
From House Fire to Homewrecker: Author Behind Grizzlies’ Newest Scandal.
Captain’s Girlfriend Cashes In: Erotic Fiction Writer Profits from Private Passion
And the fucking videos.
Everyone having an opinion. A comment.
The derision being tossed her way.
If it was just me, it would be easier. But it’s not just me. It’s not just a media storm to ignore and “no comment” and wait until it dies down.
No, Faye’s been pulled in right next to me.
And I know—fucking know—that Courtney is behind this.
My teammates, my family wouldn’t talk to the media about Faye’s job, about the fire—and certainly not about me being inspiration for her books.
But Courtney could have heard something or surmised enough to create this.
To hurt Faye this way.
To hurt me.
A gentle hand settles on my back.
“Don’t,” Faye murmurs. “Stay with me.”
Those words kept me with her before, mere weeks ago. Fuck, that feels like an eternity ago, a lifetime.
And—God—I want them to let them keep me with her now. But—
“You know I can’t stay,” I rasp, turning to face her, wrapping my arms tightly around her, burying my face in her hair, her neck.
Taking this one final moment to hold her.
“You promised,” she whispers, hands clenching at my shirt, nails biting into my skin. “You promised you wouldn’t hurt me again.”
I did.
And this hurts—it fucking kills. But if I don’t do this now, don’t end this here today…
It will only get worse.
Until Faye is…
Until she’s not my Faye anymore.
Until everything she is, everything she loves is ripped away from her.
So…better to hurt her today than ruin her tomorrow.
“I have to, baby.”
“Why?” she asks, tears glimmering in her eyes.
“You know why.”
Her throat works. Her chin lifts. “Tell me.” A demand. An order.
One I can’t ignore. “I ruin people.” I smooth my hand up and down her back, knowing I have to let her go, have to step away…just not quite able to do it yet. “I can’t do it again—not to you.”
She touches my jaw, her expression swimming with pain. “You’re not ruining me, honey. You’ve saved me.”
“The evidence is there, Red. It’s already begun and—” The video. Her book. I shake my head. “It has to be now.”
Because if I don’t do it now…
I won’t have the strength to let her go later.
“Gray.” She presses closer and I can’t stop myself from wiping away her tears. “You gave me a family. Gave me safety and security and made is so I won’t ever be alone.” She covers my hand with hers. “Don’t make me live a life with you not in it.”
“I don’t want that, baby.”
“So, God, why are you doing this?”
A broken question.
One that eviscerates me.
Fuck, the idea of not holding her as I fall asleep, of not having her baking in my kitchen, of not seeing her smiles, hearing her beautiful laughter, touching that silky skin…
I want to tear my hair out, punch my fist into the tree that’s sending patterns of dappled sunshine on her face and hair and body. I want to tilt my head back and scream until my voice is gone, until the pain is gone.
But I know it won’t disappear that easily.
Know that this will be an agony I carry to my grave.
Yes, this will hurt Faye—it is hurting her—but she’ll move on, she’ll have Luna and the others, and she won’t be alone.
But me…I need to let them all go, give her the space to build her life without the albatross of me hanging around her neck.
I can handle being separate, handle letting her go.
Because she’ll have them.
Because letting them go for her is…bearable.
Barely.
“I have to,” I whisper.
And then I step back.
The loss of her in my arms almost breaks me. But I manage to retreat another pace. Then another.
Until there are five feet between us.
Ten.
Until I’m at the porch, at the door, until I’m forcing my feet to keep moving even though I can see her in the reflection in the glass.
When she falls to her knees, I almost break.
But that will only prolong this torture.
So, I turn the handle, push inside…
And then I walk away from the only woman I’ve ever loved.