Chapter 21
GABE
“Gabe! Hey! Gabe!”
I stop. I try to take the time to stop and sign autographs.
“Have a Sharpie?” I ask, looking into the sun. It’s so bright, I can barely tell who I’m talking to. But I can see it’s a woman.
“Can I get a picture instead?”
“Sure.” I just want to get this over with. As soon as I agree, she loops her arms around my waist and presses her breasts into my side. I try to pull away before she snaps a selfie, but I don’t manage it fast enough. She goes to take another one.
“Okay, times up.” I tell her gruffly. Instead of thank you, she smirks at me. Odd. Thinking nothing of it, I rejoin the team and get on the bus to go back to the hotel.
Before long, we’re back at the hotel and I’m just relaxing after the day, when my phone starts to blow up with text messages. The first is from Jay. But there are over twenty more.
Jay: Holy shit coach! How did you bag her?
What the fuck? He’s already met Layla. Then I look at the screenshot from social media he sent with his text.
It’s the fan from earlier. And she’s insinuating that we slept together.
Zooming in on the photo, I look closely and realize it’s the same rabid fan from last year.
I just didn’t recognize her, as I was staring into the sun as the picture was taken.
Gabe: She’s not my girlfriend.
Jay: Damn, coach.
Gabe: I’m not with her. She’s just a fan I took a picture with today.
Jay: You sly dog.
Gabe: Shut the fuck up. Right this instant. Repeat: I’ve never cheated and I never will. Get that out of your dumb head. Now.
Jay: Sorry, man. Do you have her number? J/k!
Gabe:
I growl, looking at all of the other messages, mostly from other coaches and players. And they’re all like what Jay sent. Except one.
Layla: Tell me it isn’t true.
Gabe: It’s not. It was just one picture with a fan. I swear. I didn’t cheat on you and never will. You’re it for me.
Layla doesn’t answer, her silence saying it all. I’m completely over my head. “Fuuuuuck!!!” I shout, slamming my fist into the bed. I have to get this mess cleaned up and make it right as soon as possible. I start with Jenn Stephenson, the Vipers PR Director.
Gabe:
Jenn: Hello to you, too, Gabe.
Gabe: Hi. Check the web. I’m in deep shit.
Jenn: I see that. Any truth to that?
Gabe: None at all.
Jenn: I assumed so.
Gabe: Can you get this cleaned up ASAP?
Jenn: Of course. It might take a few days, but the dust will eventually settle down.
Gabe: I sure hope so. Thank you.
Jenn: Anytime, Gabe. Keep your head down.
Gabe: Always.
Next, I call Layla. And she doesn’t pick up.
Gabe: Layla, baby. Please call me. We need to talk.
She doesn’t reply. I imagine she’s hurting and angry, just like me. Furious, I throw a pillow at the wall. Next, I text Steph. I need to warn her and the kids.
Gabe: If you see something about me in the tabloids, ignore it. It’s not true.
Steph: I saw. I didn’t figure it was. Good luck with that!
Gabe: Thanks. Make sure to chat with the kids about it and explain.
Steph: I will. Take care of yourself, Gabe.
Gabe: Will do.
Needing to burn off excess energy, I head to the hotel workout facility. If I’m going to sleep at all, I need to wear myself out. Completely. And so that’s what I do.
The next morning, my alarm blares and I open my gritty eyes, swatting at my phone to turn it off.
Fuck, I feel like trash. My head, my heart, and my gut all hurt.
Pulling my ass out of bed, I drag myself to the shower and get dressed for the day.
I need to head to the ballpark, as we have another day game.
When I get out of the shower, my phone alerts me to a call.
Hoping it’s Layla, I pick it up and I’m instantly disappointed. It’s Jenn, the team’s PR director.
“Hello, Gabe. I was able to get the photos taken down. But it will take more time to address the damage that’s already been done. I’m sorry.”
“Thank you.”
“I’ll need a statement from you.”
“I can do that. A little help?” I say, my throat tight.
She laughs softly. “There are plenty of canned responses. Let me write a press release and I’ll send it to you for approval. How does that sound?”
“I appreciate it. Thanks, again.”
“Any time. Bye, Gabe.”
I hang up and breathe out a shaky breath. I just want to throttle the fan that caused this whole mess. Fuck. My. Life. Stuffing down my emotions, I head out to meet the team and get on the bus. It’s time to head to the stadium for this afternoon’s game.
Layla
As soon as I saw the message from Cora, I almost threw up.
How could he? Zooming in on the photo, I see Gabe cozied up to a petite, young blonde.
Her arm is thrown around his waist and they’re close together, smiling.
They look cozy and happy. And the woman he’s next to insinuated they’d slept together.
Was I crazy to think that this thing between Gabe and I would lead to a happily ever after? I snort through my tears. Probably.
Sniffling, I wipe away my tears and blow my nose.
I have work to do. Which is good, because I need to keep myself busy to keep my mind off Gabe.
And what he did or did not do. I really should talk to Gabe.
Hear him out. But right now, I don’t think I can.
This is why I was always a one-night stand kind of woman.
No strings, no attachments. And no heartache.
Frowning, I let work suck me in and help me forget.
Hours later, I’m still sitting at my desk, when my intercom buzzes. “Ms. Bradshaw, you have a phone call. Line two.”
“Thank you,” I say, hanging up.
“Layla Bradshaw,” I say into the phone.
“Layla, thank god. It’s Gabe.”
How dare he?!
“I have nothing to say to you.”
“Please, Layla. You know me. I would never do this. Please hear me out.”
I tap my fingernails against the desktop. “I’m listening.”
“It was just a pic with a fan. That’s all. She’s just an attention seeker. I swear. I don’t even know who she is.”
I’ll bet his PR team does, though. “How do I know I can believe you?”
“Give me a chance. Face to face. Then you’ll know I’m not lying. You know me, Layla,” he says, breathing out the last part.
I do know him. That’s why it hurts so much. Do I let him explain? Fuck, my heart twinges at the thought of never seeing him again.
“Layla? You still there?”
“Yes.”
“Meet me?”
“Yes. Where.”
“I know it doesn’t look good, but I’ll be back in Pittsburgh in two days. Meet me there. Can you do that?”
“Yes, I can do that,” I reply, my voice clogged with emotion.
“Oh, thank god. I love you, Layla. Tell me you love me, too.”
“I do. But this looks bad, Gabe. Really, really bad,” I say to him, my voice and my bottom lip trembling. I’m about to start crying again.
“I know, dammit,” he growls, frustration lacing his voice. “That’s why we need to meet in person.”
“I need to go. Bye, Gabe.”
“Wait, Layla!” Gabe says through the phone, just as I hang up. My eyes swim with tears as I drop my phone back into its cradle.
“Want to talk about it?” Cora says, standing in the doorway to my office.
“No.”
“I don’t think he did what the woman on social media says he did. He’s too good for that.”
Her words only make me start crying harder. “I know,” I blubber.
“Give him a chance to explain.”
“I am. I’m meeting him in Pittsburgh in two days.”
“I’m glad. Hear him out. And if you still think he’s done you wrong, then cut ties with him.”
I nod, blowing my nose. If it were only that simple.
“Come here,” she murmurs, throwing her arms around my shoulders, hugging me. “You’ll get through this.”
I nod and take comfort from my best friend who has always been there for me through thick and thin. No matter what.