Chapter Thirty-Six Walls Up
ZANDER
Fuck the world and everything and everyone in it.
I can’t remember ever being this pissed off, or this disgusted with myself. Making my way home after getting back from our away game, part of me wants to keep driving and not stop. Just continue out of Denver, out of Colorado, and never look back.
Last night was abysmal. I played the worst game of my life, which I’m really not surprised about.
I couldn’t focus on playing. I couldn’t focus on anything, really.
I’m so torn up inside that I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to feel anything close to happiness again.
As angry as I still am with Rylee, I’m even more furious with myself for yelling at her and ending things the way I did.
On top of all that, I’ve had to deal with the fucking attention that article has brought me!
Both good and bad. If it wasn't for Coach saying absolutely no press conferences, I probably would have punched a reporter and been kicked off the team.
What the hell was with the accusations in that article?
I'm not a playboy. I have never been a person who doesn't care about people and discards girls like objects.
I'm a one-woman man, and that woman was supposed to be Rylee.
Fuck. What am I supposed to do now? How am I supposed to get over this? Over her?
I drive aimlessly for a bit, not wanting to go home right away. It’ll just be painfully obvious how alone I am without her.
The guys offered to hang out with me and go out, but I turned them down. Now I’m thinking maybe I should stop somewhere - hit up a bar and get drunk so I don’t have to feel like this anymore.
I freeze at the thought. Shit… that’s what Rylee would do, isn’t it? Drink to avoid her pain. To not have to feel the things she doesn’t want to feel.
My heart aches and I shake my head. I can’t do that, not when I blew up on her for doing the same thing. Still, I can understand the appeal… which means I can understand her a little better.
Just a little, though.
Groaning in frustration, I decide to just go home. Face the loneliness and get it over with. Avoiding it is only going to get me in trouble.
I head home, feeling shittier and shittier the closer I get.
As I pass the front of my building on the way to the parking garage, I catch sight of a figure sitting on the stoop and my heart clenches. It’s Rylee.
Without a thought, I pull into a parking spot by the sidewalk and get out of the truck.
She stands as I approach, and she looks so beautiful with her hair loose around her shoulders, wearing a blue trench coat and knee high boots, my chest aches.
Her eyes are red and slightly puffy. It looks like she’s been crying and maybe not sleeping much.
I’m cautious as I draw near and am careful not to let my longing for her show in my face.
“Hey,” she murmurs when I come to a stop in front of her.
“What are you doing here?” I reply in a low, clipped tone. “I don’t want to talk right now. You should go.”
She swallows and then raises her chin before saying, “I know, but I just need you to listen. Please.”
The broken tone of her voice as she looks at me renders me speechless. I should tell her no, that I don’t want to hear what she has to say. Instead, I stay silent, and let her continue.
“I wanted to tell you how sorry I am. The article you read wasn’t the one that was meant to be published, but I did write those things, I won’t lie about that.
When I found out you knew I was ClickTease I was angry and overwhelmed, and when that happens, I journal.
I’ve been doing it since I was a kid, and it helps me to work through my thoughts and feelings so I can process everything without lashing out.
Usually, I destroy the journals when they’re full, but the one I wrote about you…
I’d run out of journal space so it was on my computer and I saved it.
I wasn’t thinking straight, and I was drunk and put the document in the wrong folder. ”
Fuck, part of me wants to latch onto this explanation and accept it so we can just move on.
I’m yearning to grab her and hold her and put this behind us, but I resist and keep my walls up.
I’m not going to give in. Not this time.
I remind myself of all the times I let myself be walked all over, taken for granted, or hurt.
Not just with Rylee, but every woman before her.
It’s only ever left me heartbroken and alone, and I can’t let this keep happening to me.
I need to prioritize my happiness and wellbeing for once.
“I went back to Nashville and found out that one of my co-workers is seeing my ex, and she got her hands on my journal entry and submitted it to my boss, under my name.”
Her voice wavers and she pauses. I watch as she looks away and clenches her jaw, clearly fighting down a burst of anger. Sucking in a deep breath, she lets it out slowly and speaks in a calmer, more even tone. I stay silent.
“That doesn’t really matter in the end,” she continues, “because the truth is I still wrote what I wrote, and even if it was never meant to be read by anyone else, completely not true and written in a moment of weakness, it was still hurtful. I should’ve deleted it instead of saving it, and if I had, none of this would’ve ever happened. ”
I furrow my brows. It’s a somewhat understandable story she’s telling, but I resist the urge to forgive her so easily.
She shouldn’t have written it in the first place.
Plus, that article has had a bigger effect than just tarnishing my name, and she hasn’t even mentioned that.
Hasn’t acknowledged just how much damage this has done.
That’s just another jab that has me nearly flinching in pain.
“I… I really am sorry,” she mutters. “And I want nothing more than your forgiveness, but I don’t expect you to give it to me.
What I did was unforgivable. I wanted to let you know, that I know, I need to work on myself.
I need to stop running from my problems, and I plan on doing that.
In fact, um, I’m going to go spend Christmas in Ireland with my dad.
I didn’t want to leave, without thanking you for everything you’ve done for me.
For fighting for me - for us - even when I didn’t deserve it.
You're an amazing guy Zander, and I’m so sorry I hurt you. ”
Blinking, I tense as she steps closer to me, and don’t move as she pushes onto her tiptoes and places a kiss on my cheek.
“Good bye,” she whispers, her voice wavering.
Fuck… I don’t know if I can forgive her, but for her to show up on my doorstep and tell me everything that happened is huge. Also for her to recognize that she needs to work on herself and deal with her problems head on is really incredible.
She needs time to do all this, I know, but the question is whether or not I’ll be there when she comes out on the other side. Can I be there? Do I even want to be there?
I’m just not sure yet.
I guess I need more time, too.
We stare at each other for several long moments, neither of us saying a word. Then, she darts around me and hurries down the sidewalk toward a car parked at the end of the block.
I watch her go, part of me wanting to run after her, but I hold myself back. Instead, I turn and make my way inside the building, feeling more torn up than before.