“How did you feel?” I ask, wanting to know.
His eyebrows furrow. “Betrayed…angry. Sad.”
“Because you still loved her?”
His brown eyes flash with unnamed emotion as they flit to me. My stomach squeezes tight as I watch him shake his head. “Don’t think less of me, Birdie. Please. Now that I look back, our marriage was barely surviving. We were friends more than anything, but it’s taken me a long time to see that. I felt so betrayed by my partner who had vowed to be honest and faithful to me. I was so stuck on the fact that she cheated, that she could do that for so long without telling me. It seemed unforgivable.”
“But the baby…”
The tension leaves his face as his eyes pinch closed. He inhales and props his hands on his hips, and when he blinks his eyes open again, tears swim in the corners.
“She’s pregnant with your son, Ben.”
His jaw ticks and he nods. “What are the odds? Less than a lightning strike maybe. At first, she assumed the baby was Mike’s, but she and I had sex—”
I wince and he pauses, only trudging forward when he’s sure I can handle it.
“It was the only time we’d slept together in almost a year. Like I said, we’d drifted apart. I thought it was normal for couples to go through dry spells like that. It didn’t bother me as much as it should have.” He scrubs his hand through his hair. “I feel like I can’t emphasize enough how fucking stupid I was, how caught up in the game…I just thought we’d figure it all out eventually.”
“But if she was sleeping with you both—”
“They did genetic testing. It’s not Mike’s baby.”
It’s dead silent inside my nan’s room. Out in the hall, a door opens, wheels screech and beg for grease, voices drift in and out of earshot.
Our end is so blatantly obvious it should be written in red paint on the wall. We’re fish trying to swim upstream, wriggling and writhing in agony. I see that now. There is no way to recapture the ease of the last few weeks, the slow nights in my bed, the quiet hum of life together out in the country. We were never going to make it work, but now, with Shelby and the baby, it’s more than difficult—it’s impossible. I don’t know if they’re going to try to resolve their issues, but I know I won’t stand in their way.
“I leave tomorrow, Birdie. For Tokyo and the Games. After, I’ll be back in Los Angeles. My schedule—”
“Ben.”
He steps forward, hand outstretched. “I could have my assistant take a look and—”
“Ben.”
He’s still trying to swim upstream, but I know better. I’ll be the one to save us the trouble. This won’t work. This fleeting affair between two star-crossed lovers. This tender love built on a bedrock of subtle lies. His and mine. I believe him now. I trust his story, but it still won’t save us.
Even if Shelby had never showed up, this was always going to happen. He was always going to leave town without a trace. My troubles will rush in to fill the void he’ll leave, and it’ll be like he was never here in the first place.
I push to stand on shaky legs and walk toward him slowly, caving in to the urge to wrap my arms around his middle and squeeze. My face falls against his chest, and like a flash flood, my tears come with utter abandon.
He holds me and buries his head in the crook of my neck.
His scent wraps around me, and I wish I could siphon it and use it like a drug when I feel especially weak in the coming weeks.
I think I hear him whisper, “Please,” but I convince myself I’m wrong.
I can’t do this for us if he gives me too many reasons to beg him to stay.
In fact, I gather strength from all the reasons to push him away.
I step back from our hug even though he resists. I keep my hands gripping his shirt at his waist and I push him back gently and then, when that doesn’t work, harder. I straighten my elbows until he’s an arm’s length away, and I look up into his sorrowful brown eyes with my jaw locked tight.
“Little Bird.”
In an instant, I release his shirt like he’s burned me.
I’m shaky and dazed. I want this to end, but even still, I won’t kick him out. I won’t scream at him to go. I merely walk back to my chair and take a seat, grabbing my textbook to prop on top of my lap. I drop my gaze, look down at it, and still, his feet are in the top of my line of sight. He stays there and stays there and my tears roll down my cheeks and splash down onto the book cover, then I squeeze my eyes shut, and when I open them again, he’s gone.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Ben
If I thought me staying in Raelynn’s life would be better for her, I’d do it in an instant. If I thought I could button up this situation with Shelby quickly, shield her from the press, give her my undivided attention, ultimately make her happy…I’d take her from Pine Hill today. Right now.
Even looking at the hard facts, I still consider doing it. I’m a selfish man. I want to force her hand. Beg and persuade her by any means necessary. I know I could. I’ve seen the way she looks at me, those secret feelings she tries to keep buried when we’re in bed together. I know if I pressed on that tender heart of hers, I could convince her to give us a chance.
But ultimately, I do the right thing.
I can’t give her peace.
Definitely not now, maybe not ever.
I ride with the team out of Pine Hill and head to a tiny airstrip where three private planes are waiting to fly us and the Olympic coaching staff to Los Angeles where we’ll get on the flight to Tokyo.
I have a note clutched in my left hand with Raelynn’s phone number on it.
Lele got it for me.
She went to see Raelynn at the nursing home last night to say goodbye. When she boarded the private plane this morning, she walked down the aisle and stopped at my side, pressing the note to my chest. I took it and looked up at her. She was staring straight ahead, chewing on her bottom lip, her brows furrowed with concern.
“I swore I wouldn’t give it to you.”
She let her hand slide away and I reached up quickly to grab the note before it fell. She left me in peace and I stared down at those numbers, my heart pounding with all the possibilities. I contemplated calling right then, but instead, I programmed her number into my phone then repeated it over and over again in my head, memorizing it during the flight.
When we touch down in Los Angeles, it’s only for a few minutes. They whisk us onto another plane, trying to condense our travel day as much as possible. My teammates joke and laugh, eager to get to the Games. Enough of them have tried and failed to engage me in conversations that they know to just leave me alone at this point.
Anthony sits across the aisle from me with his headphones on. He knows everything. Talked to Shelby himself.
Coach Dalton passes me in the aisle and pats my shoulder, a silent show of support for whatever I’m going through. He knows better than to ask. We all have complicated lives we keep off the court.
Unfortunately, there’s no getting out of staying in the athletes’ village once we’re in Tokyo. For security reasons, they have our team sequestered on the top floor of a large recently built apartment complex that’s next door to the stadium where we’ll play our games. Single players have to share rooms, which means I’m bunking with Anthony.