Page 71 of Lawson
We all sort of duck against the brutal wind that delivers a frosty sting.
“Food?” Pax asks as we all linger outside the little shop.
“I'm down,” Nash answers, nodding down the street where there’s a burger joint.
“I'm in,” I say, motioning to my car parked a few spaces down. “Let me just go put this away and I'll meet you there.”
The guys give me a nod, heading to the burger joint, and I hurry to stow my gifts for Blakely in the back seat of my car. As I lock it up, I can't help but feel this overwhelming sense of solidarity as I head to lunch with my teammates. It does everything to wash away the worry I have regarding the last piece of Blakely that I don't hold yet, and I find myself hopeful not only about the future with me and her, but with this new team that’s starting to feel a hell of a lot like family.
CHAPTER 15
BLAKELY
My knee bouncesuncontrollably beneath the small table at the cafe, my iced coffee untouched before me. My chest is tight, and I might pass out any minute.
I glance at my phone, checking the clock for the millionth time. Any minute now?—
The bell chimes above the door, signifying someone coming into the cafe. I don't even have to turn around to know who it is. Who I asked to meet me here after another unsuccessful attempt to stop his antics.
My body remembers his presence, and my skin tightens, my stomach twisting as he slowly lowers into the seat across from me. His eyes are hopeful, but he looks almost as uncomfortable as I feel as he folds his arms over his chest.
I study Brian for a few more moments, taking in the rigid line of his posture, the way his eyes dart to everythingbutmine. Maybe he’s ashamed of the way he's been acting.
“Thank you for meeting me,” I manage to work the words around the massive knot clogging my throat. I hate that it’s come to this. I hate that I can no longer sit across from somebody I thought I loved without feeling wildly uncomfortable. But he’s seen to that.
A server comes up to our table, asking him what he would like before I can continue, and he orders his usual coffee before silence falls around our table again.
“Did you catch the pretty-boy Badger with another girl?” he asks, not a hint of civility in his tone.
The words sting, but I do my best not to flinch. “No,” I say. “Not that it's any of your business. I didn't ask you to meet me for that.”
He nods, something like understanding flashing over his features as he takes the mug from the server, who then heads off to another table. “Then you finally want to talk about the audition?”
I gape at him, utter confusion washing over me. “Do you honestly think that after everything you've put me through, I would actually ask you to meet me here so we could talk about your audition for the reality show?”
He looks perplexed, like that'sexactlywhat he thought, and I let out a deep sigh of frustration I’ve held since leaving him.
“You know that you’d benefit from the reality show too,” he says. “You know we’re amazing when we skate together. Even if we didn't work out as a couple, we’re fire on the ice. We’d get in if we auditioned together?—”
“You’re delusional if you think I’ll ever skate with you after what you've done.”
“I haven'tdoneanything to you,” he argues.
“You've done everything, Brian. You’ve harassed me with your texts and calls and showing up to my apartment. All of which I’ve documented in case I need it. I have cameras installed around my apartment now, so I have enough proof that you’ve been crossing boundaries for way too long. We areover. We are never getting back together. And I willneverskate with you again.”
He furrows his brow, shaking his head like he's at a loss for words. Fear laces into his features, the realization that I've been keeping tabs on everything he's been doing finally settling in to his thick skull.
“I asked you here, not to make amends, but to deliver a message of my own. I would like to move on with my life in a healthy way. And, against my better judgment, I want to give you an opportunity to do the same.”
“You want to move on with that fucking guy?—”
“It doesn't matter if I want to move on with the entire Badgers’ starting lineup,” I cut him off. “That's my right. You no longer have a say in what I can and cannot do anymore. I don't know why you ever did in the first place, but that's a conversation for my therapist, not you.”
His lips go tight, but he doesn't respond.
“You will stop texting me. You will stop calling me. You will stop showing up at my place and leaving letters on my windshield. In no way would that ever win me back, and in no way are we ever going to be in each other's lives again. You’ve made sure of that.”
When he does nothing but narrow his gaze, I continue.