Chapter 22
GABE
PITTSBURGH, PA
GABE
Gabe: Are you in Pittsburgh?
Layla: Yes, I’m here.
I let out the breath I didn’t even know I was holding.
Gabe: Where are you staying?
Layla: The Kinzer.
Gabe: That’s the same place the team is staying. I’ll be there in a few minutes. Meet me?
Layla: I will.
Gabe: Good. What room are you in?
Layla: 608
I don’t reply, just anxiously wait for the team bus to get back to the hotel.
As soon as the bus driver opens the door, I’m up and out of my seat eagerly following the players as they exit.
As soon as my feet hit the hotel floor, I’m racing to the stairwell.
I’m not waiting for an elevator to take me to the sixth floor. I can get there faster than that.
Stretching my legs. I climb the six flights of stairs in record time. It’s times like these that it pays to be in top shape. Striding down the hallway, I stop in front of room 608. I’m about to knock, then hesitate. What if this doesn’t work? Can I live without her?
My mind made up, I knock on her door and wait. “Layla? It’s Gabe. Open up.”
I hear her footsteps, then the door swings open, a tired-looking Layla on the other side.
“Layla,” I breathe, eating up the distance between us. “I’m so sorry. I swear it was just a fan photo. Nothing else,” I say, my voice clogged with emotion as I pull her into my arms, letting the door swing shut.
I try to cradle her against my chest, but she refuses to let me. And that cuts me deep.
“Tell me why I should believe you,” she says, her tone cold.
“Look at me. Really look, Layla. Look into my eyes. Do I look like I’m lying?” I tell her, my eyes staring into hers.
“No.”
“You know me, Layla. I have no reason to lie. I love you. And only you.”
She sighs. “I know, Gabe.”
“Please tell me you still love me. Even after all this bullshit. I’m the same man you know and love.”
She bites her lip. “I love you, Gabe. But I need time.”
She lifts me up, only to knock me down again. “Time for what, exactly?”
“I need time to figure all of this out. I need to figure out some things.”
“What things? Us? There’s nothing to figure out. We’re good together. So damn good,” I tell her, running a hand over my hair in agitation. I just want things with Layla to go back to the way things were. When we were perfectly happy.
“Long-distance relationships are hard work, Gabe.”
“I know. And we’ve been putting in the hard work.”
She shakes her head, then whispers softly. “I don’t know if I can do this.”
And my heart fucking shatters. “Are you breaking up with me?”
She shakes her head. “I just need time.”
If Layla needs time, then I will give her time. “I’ll give you as much time as you need. Please come back to me. To us,” I plead softly.
She nods. “You need to go.”
“I’ll be in touch. Remember Layla. I love you. And I don’t say that lightly.”
She nods and purses her lips.
And then I walk out of her hotel room door, my heart broken and bleeding.