I spend most of my night laying on my bed that I had stripped down to just a bare mattress. After I had gotten off the phone with Morgan all the calm that I had felt slowly deteriorated until I was a quivering mess of self-conflicting anger. During my anger management classes and endless hours talking to different therapists and doctors, I had developed many tactics to relieve my pent up emotions in safe means. That all went out the window.
Now my sheets and blankets are sitting in the corner of my hotel room. A mess of ripped white and gray linen meet their meanings end. I slept in a sweatshirt and long pants, using Morgan's scarf as a pillow as I tried and failed to find way to not only make myself feel better, but make Nick feel worse.
The phone calls had continued long into the night and I listened to the annoying ringtone every time. I refused to turn the phone off or to silent because I needed the reminder. Every single time he called it drove a stake deeper into my heart, reminding me of every reason I had to hate him.
But I didn't.
I mourned him.
I mourned the loss of my best friend of three years. I still loved him, despite everything. I always had. But I wasn't upset about losing a lover, it was the person I thought he was that I was missing. A person who I wasn't even sure was real.
Dawn came and with it the noises of a city coming back to life. I heard people walking up and down the hallway. I heard and smelled carts of breakfast rolling by but still I laid there and thought. Until I saw it.
Just poking out of my bag was the jersey that I had worn nearly every single night. I raised myself to my elbows and eyed the yellow and white rag for what it was; the thing Nick cared about most.
I called down to the front desk and asked what time the gift shop opened and then took the longest, hottest shower of my life. I let the cascade of heat wash away every streak of salty tears from my skin and let my flesh turn a dusty pink before I finally got out. Despite my insides still feeling like they are on fire, I dress to impress. Because if there is one thing I know about men, it's that if you look good there's a 99 percent chance they are going to notice.
I pull my pencil skirt, plunging blouse and the simple black pumps that I know make my legs look long on and get set on styling my hair. Luckily, my outer appearance has yet to reflect my inner turmoil so my hair is still shiny and willing to cooperate as I style it into long soft waves that curtain my face perfectly. By the time I'm through with my makeup its quarter to eight and I look damn good.
The gift shop proves to have the sole thing I need and I race back up to my room before it's time for the bus to leave for practice. I gather my necessities for a morning of press at the rink and then rush back downstairs, having a gut feeling that someone I know may be down there. Thanks to having to wait for the gift shop, I'm not the first one downstairs but the bus has yet to appear so I know I'm good.
The team loiters around the lobby and some spill out onto the sidewalk as we wait. Most send me questioning looks, some with pity in their eyes, others are clueless. Morgan and Mason have yet to appear but the second Jake sees me his eyes widen and I can see his fingers flying across this phone screen.
But over his shoulder, out the window I see him.
Nick walks slowly across the street, his cheek a shadow of a dark bruise that goes from his jaw to the corner of his eye and I feel my heart swell with pride at Mason's good aim. I march through the hotel door, ignoring Jake's protests and the brush of his hand on my arm. I keep my head held high as I wait for Nick to see me.
"Y/N!" He exclaims when his eyes, or eye as the other seems to be swelled quite a bit, finally spots me.
I stare back impassively, refusing to be swayed by the sad, tired look in his eyes. I bite my cheek as I notice the redness that surrounds them. So what if he cried? I cried too.
"Baby, please can we talk?" He pleads and I raise one eyebrow.
"No, I don't want to talk," I say calmly and he looks like he doesn't know how to respond.
I watch him start to get nervous, the anxious way he shifts his weight from foot to foot and runs a distressed hand through his hair.
"Well, I want to," he finally says and I nearly laugh out loud.
"Because we always do what you want to do, right?" I ask snidely and he has the audacity to roll his eyes. This is a game to him, an annoyance. He still thinks I'll come back to him.
"Don't be like that, Y/N. We both know things weren't working the best, but we can fix it," he reaches out a brown hand and I don't pull away when he touches my arm. I can feel the weight of twenty stares from behind the glass on my shoulders.
"There's nothing to fix, Nick," I shrug and is see a flash of fear so quick that I don't know if it was real or not, cross his face.
"Don't say that, we've been through so much together. You graduating and being a big, um... reporter and I being a professional football player," he says and I narrow my eyes at his guess at what I actually do. "We were meant to be baby, don't throw this away over some misunderstanding."
I tense. "A misunderstanding?" I ask slowly, my eyes on his feet because if I look in his eyes I might kill him. "I misunderstood you putting your tongue in another woman's mouth and you groping her, mind you in a very public place, as cheating? Is that it?"
"Well, there were different things that made me do it-"
"Made you do it," I repeat harshly and I take the risk of looking him straight in the eye. "I trusted you, Nick. I was how many states away? Even farther when I lived in Montreal and I trusted you. Never did I imagine you would do what you did last night. Never."
I feel tears well in my eyes and I beg them to stay at bay.
"God, every time I close my eyes all I can see if your hands on her," I set the bag at my feet and raise my fingers to below my eyes to wipe the tiny drops that had escaped. "I thought of you as someone who would never, ever hurt me. Ever."
He flinches at my words and I can tell he wants to touch me again so I step out of his reach.
"Don't," I snap and he takes a step back instantly. "You don't deserve to touch me. You don't even deserve to be talking to me right now but I'm stupid enough to be out here."
"Y/N, please," he whispers weakly and disgust rolls in my stomach.
"You act like someone who doesn't care about anything. You act like I'm the one at fault here, made me do it," I mimic his earlier words. "No one forced your tongue down her throat, no one forced you into her bed or your hands on her body. No one but yourself. I was blind for so long, Nick. Blind to what I thought was love but was really just your way of showing ownership."
The bus finally appears before me, and I hear the door behind me open slowly.
"I won't let myself be hurt by you or anyone else, not anymore."
I pick up the bag at my feet, the weight it of it heavy on my heart. Wordlessly, I hand him the bag as I feel my boys walking behind me to the bus. I no longer feel their stares on me but on Nick instead, daring him to try and touch me again. Nick refuses to meet any of their glances, his eyes fused on me.
"Y/N, don't do this, please," he whispers again and I can hear him break.
I hope the bag shatters him to a million pieces.
He looks down into the bag and I see his entire body go still. I take pleasure in watching the tears spill form his eyes as he slowly lifts the jersey I had worn so many days and nights out of the bag, his last name in bold across the back.
"No," he whispers.
I don't say goodbye. I move to walk around him when his hand grips my wrist so hard I yelp. But it's only for an instant. Suddenly there are two big bodies on either side of me, and Nick's taking a step back.
"This isn't over," he snaps at me. "We will talk about this tonight," he says so darkly that something similar to fear tugs at me. His phone is sticking out of his front pocket like always and I have a split second decision.
Before he can even process what is going on, my hand is already in and out of his pocket, black cellphone in hand and case halfway removed.
"What are you doing?" He asks, stepping towards me.
I don't say anything as I smash the slim device down onto the pavement.
"Y/N!" He yells but before he can take another step, I bring the heel of my pump down as hard as I can stomp and shatter what remains.
"I'm guessing right you don't even know my number by heart," I say without a flutter of emotion in my voice as I put a hand on Morgan's back and nudge him toward the bus, Mason close behind me.
Nick yells at me from the sidewalk for a few moments and only draws attention to himself and suddenly there's a throng of people surrounding him, asking for pictures and autographs and the flashes of cell phone cameras are enough to make me laugh. He looks around in a panic and starts to fight his way back down the street, but by now most of the street has noticed one of their star football players is in their vicinity.
I watch his dark mop of hair disappear into a car not too far away and then he's gone. Just like that.
Most of the team is already on the bus but a few players and coaches are still inside. Most of them are trying not to stare at me, but I don't mind. I feel good, better than good. I feel light, like the weight of a thousand men has been lifted from me.
I sit down in my seat and touch the necklace that still hands from my neck. The only thing I hadn't gotten rid of yet. I look out the front window again and about thirty yards down the street sits a homeless person. I hadn't noticed him when I first walked out and nearly no one spares him a glance as they pass by.
Fingering the fine chain an idea comes to mind. Without warning, I stand from my seat and descend off the bus again, Mason and Morgan both calling out to me. I hurry down the sidewalk and slowly when I reach the small figure huddled against the brick building of what looks like a clothing store. He doesn't look up at me, but I think it might be due to the fact that he's shivering so hard.
"Excuse me," I say, and he jumps.
I stare down at the bright green eyes surrounded by the dirt and grime of his skin and smile. Kneeling down beside him, he widens his eyes and watches me warily. I reach behind my neck and unclasp the necklace that hadn't left my skin in months and stare at the little charm attached to it.
"This was given to me as a gift, a good luck charm from someone when I moved to a new city," I say to the still wary looking man. "But it didn't bring me much luck to be honest. Maybe, it might bring some to you though," I say and gently take one of his hands in my own and let the diamond necklace pool on his skin. "It's a couple years old, but I'm sure you could get a good price for it if you wished."
"Lady, I can't..." he starts, pushing his hand back to me.
I close his fingers over the charm and blink a few tears away. "Please," I whisper and he looks down at his closed hand in wonder.
"Are you sure?" He asks again and I nod.
"Yes. Do what you please with it," I say and he shakes his head.
"I have to give you something," he says and he starts to reach for his pack but I stop him by leaning in and wrapping my arms around his slim shoulders. He hesitates a moment before putting an arm around my shoulders and I hear him sniffle, tears in his eyes too.
I realize just how cold his skin really is, barely covered by a long sleeve t-shirt that looks a size too small and a hat that barely reaches his ears. I stand and hurriedly unzip my heavy winter coat, he seems to be my size and before he can protest any more, I wrap it around his shoulders.
"Good luck," I say and turn on my heel and hurry back to the bus, now only waiting on me.
This time when I enter the bus everyone is staring at me but I ignore them all. I plop down in my seat beside Mason and lean my head against his shoulder as I zip up the North Face I had been wearing underneath my winter jacket.
Mason doesn't complain about my touching and gives my knee a gently squeeze but doesn't say anything.
"What do I do now?" I whisper to him, staring blankly out the window at the rising sun. The sky a mix of yellow, orange and pink.
Mason's quiet for a while. "You learn to love someone else," he says.
Sitting behind the driver, I glance up at the large mirror over the windshield and meet a pair of startling blue eyes just a few rows back.
"I think I could do that," I say and Mason rolls his eyes.