The sun filtered through an early morning haze, and he lowered his visor, watching his speed on the highway.
He didn’t blame Gigi for leaving him. How many times had she warned him about Amie, and he’d ignored her? No, what killed him was that she’d left because he hadn’t protected her. Them. Even if Amie hadn’t turned out to be a selfish, manipulating, self-serving…He drew a breath. This isn’t about Amie. It never was.
This is about my lack of boundaries. Boundaries he’d never bothered with because, after losing Gigi in high school, nothing had mattered.
They very much fucking mattered now.
He flicked on his turn signal, and after a minivan sailed by, he turned into the driveway. He might’ve been inclined to give Gigi a little more time, but training camp started in one week and…
I miss her. Once, somewhere off the coast of Thailand, he’d gone scuba diving. Something had gone wrong with his tank, and he’d lost oxygen. The inability to breathe, the pressure on his chest—compounded by the weight of water—that’s what it feels like to be without her.
So, here he was. Back at the Cavanaugh house. Idling outside the iron gate, he pushed the button on the security box.
“Again?” Joss sounded amused.
“Yes, ma’am. You going to let me in this time?” This was his third attempt at a visit. Each time they’d told him she’d gone back to LA, and there was nothing they could do for him.
“Are you here to talk about something other than my daughter?” she asked.
“No.”
“Have a nice day.”
“Wait. Can I please talk to Tyler?”
“He’s not here.”
“Okay. Thank you.”
“That’s it? You’re giving up?”
“This is Gigi we’re talking about.” He glanced in the rearview mirror. No one behind him. “I’m going to wait for Tyler to come home.”
“Cassian…you know there’s nothing we can do, right? Gigi’s moved on.”
There it was again, that suffocating feeling. He jerked the gearshift into Park and got out, gulping in fresh mountain air.
I lost her. I fucking lost her.
“I’m not giving up, you know.” He kicked a pebble, watched it skitter across the asphalt and land on the soft grass. “What happened with her contract? Did I ruin it for her?”
“Yes. It’s over.”
Shit. Fuck. “No solo album?”
“That’s right.”
“So, what’s next?”
“She has no idea.”
“Can’t she get her demo to Irwin?”
A car raced by, trailing a country song. A hawk soared overhead. But Joss had gone silent.
“You still there?”
“Yes. I’m here. I’m just surprised you knew Irwin’s name. You paid attention. It’s nice.”
“I love her.”
“I know you do.”
“So…Irwin?”
“She says she doesn’t want to blow her one shot at getting his attention until she’s a few steps removed from being a Lollipop.”
And there it was. A way to make up for what he’d done. “Okay. Great.” For the first time, he felt empowered. “Excellent.” He had a plan. He’d make things right for her. He got back in his truck, slammed the gearshift into Reverse, and started to back up, when a Land Cruiser roared up behind him.
Tyler Cavanaugh.
The angry man drove right up to his fender, cut the engine, and swung out of the truck. “What the hell’re you doing here, Ellis? You know she’s not here.”
It was hard to look his mentor in the eye, knowing what he’d done. What Tyler had seen on that recording. The look in his daughter’s eyes, as she’d raced out of the bedroom.
Fuck. A thousand poisoned darts pierced his heart, and he couldn’t escape the pain. He leaned into his truck, grabbed the waxed paper bag off the passenger seat, and handed it to him.
The big, muscular man scowled but opened the bakery bag anyway. When he saw his treat, he turned wide-eyed, like a kid getting a full-size candy bar on Halloween. He looked up. “Is it chocolate?”
“You save some of that babka for me, old man,” his wife shouted from the speaker.
“I’m not going to eat the whole thing.”
“No,” his wife said. “But you’ll hide it.”
“Make some coffee. I’ll get rid of Cassian, and be right in.”
If his heart didn’t hurt so fucking badly, he might’ve smiled at that. “I’m the one who brought it to you.”
The man took a big bite out of the loaf of sweet, braided bread, closed his eyes, and moaned. “Damn, that’s good.” Then, he put the rest back in the bag and rolled it closed. “What do you want?”
“I want you to help me get Gigi back.”
“No. Anything else?”
“If you’d messed up, and Joss had left you, would you have just let her go?
“I didn’t fuck up once I found her.” The man rarely shouted, but his face had flushed with exasperation.
And, of course, he was right. The truth gutted him. That he’d finally won—earned—the love his life.
And then lost her.
Again.
The giant, sucking mass of loss threatened to yank him under, but fuck that. He wasn’t giving up. Not ever. “I’ve loved your daughter since I was fourteen. I’m not giving up until I get her back.”
“Well, how’s that going to work if she doesn’t want to be with you?”
“I…” He hadn’t expected that question. “I’m going to prove to her that she can trust me.”
“Been there, done that, fucked it up.”
Fear clapped its steely jaws inside the cage beneath his feet. Stay strong. “I need your help.”
Tyler shook his head. “You can’t have it.”
“You don’t think I’m good for her?”
“She doesn’t think you’re good for her.”
“I am. I will be.”
“You’ll be whatever she needs you to be, right?”
“Yes.” Okay, good. We’re getting somewhere. “Of course.”
Tyler pointed a finger at him like it was loaded. “And that’s why you can’t have her.”
Cassian felt more lost than ever. Panic made his blood pound. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I just want you to help me.”
“I’m not talking to you about my daughter.” He reached into the bag and tore off a chunk of bread. Sniffing it, he took one small bite. “Jesus, Mother of God.” He closed his eyes, tension gripping his features. “How can anything taste this good? How?” When he opened his eyes, he must’ve picked up on Cassian’s torment, because he turned compassionate. “Not gonna talk to you about my daughter, but I will talk to you about football.”
“I don’t need to talk about football.”
“Okay.” He closed up the bag and lifted it. “Thanks.” And he started back to his truck.
Desperate, his ability to stay strong on its last thin thread, he blurted, “Coach is talking about trading me.”