“Hey. It’s me. Give me a call when you get a chance. We need to talk. I, uh, I need to apologize for a few things.” The sound of his voice, deep and low and raspy, sends chills up and down my arms. The second one is similar.
The last message came in late last night. “Gabby, please call me back. I wanted to thank you for sending Adele. I owe you so big. Once again, you came to my rescue. I’ve stopped by your house…”
He’s quiet for a moment, and I almost stop breathing as I wait for him to say something else.
“I was hoping to apologize in person for being an ass the other day, but I’m kinda afraid you’re not gonna give me that chance, so I’m doing it in a message. I hope you’ll forgive me. I’m so fucking sorry my shit got you fired. I just found out about that. I promise I’ll make it up to you if you give me a chance. And I completely understand why you were suspicious of Miranda. You obviously had every right to be, and I’m a dumbass for not realizing that.” His voice lowers to almost a whisper. “I have my own issues too, you know, but that’s no excuse.”
It’s silent again, and I wonder if that’s the end of the message, but then he sighs. “Please know that nothing happened with Miranda. When you and I first started talking, it was long over with her. I meant that then, and nothing’s changed except you were right about one thing—I think she was manipulating me. But I would never go behind your back and betray your trust. Anyway, I hope—”
And the message cuts out because my voice mail is full.
Son of a—
My whole body shakes with adrenaline. Is it too late to call him back?
I scurry back to the window with my phone in hand.
Except his light is out.
The biggest game of his life is tomorrow. You can’t call or text him at three in the morning, Gabriela.
Frustrated, I jump back into bed and pray I’ll know what to do in the morning. Maybe I can call him before he leaves for the stadium.
Except when I wake up, I realize I’ve slept through my alarm, and it’s so late, all of the cars across the street are gone.
They’ve gone to the game.
I stare at his house, and that sense of emptiness grows.
A little part of me wonders if it’s better this way.
Rider’s going to get drafted in May, and he’ll leave. It’s not as though he pledged his undying love to me in his messages. He’s never even hinted at the L-word. He feels bad about what happened, probably guilty that I helped by sending Adele. He’s just grateful. Nothing more.
And I can’t forget what he told his father.
Because in all likelihood, that’s how he really feels. We have great chemistry. He knows I adore his daughter, so he doesn’t want to mess with a good thing. While he’s here. While he’s in college. For the next few months.
But that doesn’t mean he loves me or ever will.
70
GABBY
I turn the key,and my engine clicks and clicks but doesn’t start.
I try again. Same result.
Ten minutes later, I’m freaking out.What the hell?Will nothing go right in my life this week?
Angrily, I grab my small suitcase from the back seat before I storm into the house.
Sienna stares at me as she shovels cereal into her mouth. “Back so soon?”
“Unfortunately.”
She lifts an eyebrow, and I groan.
“Can I ask a favor?”
