He’s in a face mask too, but unlike Parker, he’s grumbling every time I tell him to clean his hands.
“Is he coming back?” Parker asks him.
He squeezes his eyes shut.
Parker’s eyes narrow. “That’s not a yes.”
“This is new territory for him. Just…give him some time, okay?”
Some time.
Yeah. I know how I look. Tripp can have all the time he needs. Honestly? I’d rather he didn’t have to see me like this at all.
It’s not thirty minutes later that my phone dings as I’m drifting back to sleep while Parker and Levi debate which Bro Code song was the greatest of all time. I dive for the phone, see Tripp’s name at the top of the message, and my heart breathes a sigh of relief.
Until I read the text.
I gasp so hard I send myself into a coughing fit.
Parker dives for me. “What is it?”
I don’t answer.
Instead, I burst into tears, which isn’t pleasant anytime, but today feels like an ocean of fire is trying to strangle me from the inside.
Parker takes one look at the screen, drops to the couch next to me, and hugs me hard. “Aw, Lila. Maybe it means he’s coming back.”
“The team means everything to him,” I croak out.
Levi takes my phone, reads the message, and goes still.
“Maybe you mean more to him,” Parker suggests.
But that’s not what his resignation means.
I know it.
Levi knows it.
And Parker, who a week ago was whispering reverently about how many of the Bro Code guys she’d met in the past six weeks, re-reads the message on my phone, and then erupts in a whispered tirade aimed at Levi. “What the hell is wrong with your brother? Look. I get it. He has some issues. We all have issues. But dumping a woman because she got a cold? Oh. My. God. That’s worse than when Randy Pickle divorced me because he thought I was ugly when I was naked.”
Yep.
That’s Parker, and I adore her.
“I’ll go talk to him,” Levi says.
“Why?” I ask. “Why would you do that for—for—” I gesture to myself. I’m a disaster. I haven’t combed my hair in three days. I smell like snot. And his brother just dumped me.
Over text message.
Because I got sick.
This is going to take some time to process, and I’m going to wallow in denial as long as humanly possible, because I read too many romance novels, and I know Tripp. He wouldn’t do this.
Except I’ve just made him face his biggest fear. Again.
Even if this is a knee-jerk reaction to seeing me so sick, I don’t know that he’ll take it back after he has a few days to recover.
The thing is, I’m not actually guaranteed a happily ever after. I feel like I’ve been flattened by a taxi and had my body invaded by flaming goo-making aliens. I want to be in Copper Valley. I miss Tripp. I miss the Fireballs. And nothing about the city is the same if Tripp’s not with the Fireballs.
“Why?” I repeat to Levi.
“Because he likes you, Mr. Wellington.”
Parker looks at him.
Then at me.
I glower at him. Or try to.
“Oh, don’t be mad.” Parker grips my hand again. “We know.”
I suck in another breath, bend over coughing, and my bruised heart erupts in an unsteady rhythm again.
But she doesn’t run away.
She rubs my back until the coughing has passed, and that little gesture is what sends me over the edge.
I don’t deserve her and Knox either, but they’re here.
“How?” I whisper through my tears.
“Don’t ever doubt a librarian.”
“How long?”
“Just a few months, since you really ramped up retiring him and we started talking about what you’d do to keep busy when it was done. Well, retiring you.” She passes me a tissue. “You’re such a fucking badass. I love that.”
“I’m a mess.”
“Lila, everybody’s a mess.” Levi squats in front of me and yanks his face mask down. It’s hard to look at him, because he’s in those damn white jeans again, and another paisley shirt, and for all their differences, the Wilson boys have identical blue eyes, and their lips are weirdly similar too. “He’ll come around.”
“He quit the Fireballs.”
He drops his gaze, and it’s like another punch in the gut, because if anyone could tell me that Tripp’s just being irrational, that he’ll come around, that he’ll realize he’s overreacting, that he’ll take it back in a few days, it’s Levi.
But Levi’s not telling me that Tripp’s overreacting.
He’s telegraphing instead that Tripp’s made up his mind.
He’s not one to change his mind. And if he does, it’s because he feels responsible for me, and not because I’m what he wants.
Tears blur my vision again. “It’s not his fault,” I whisper.
“Fuck that,” Parker says.
I’d love to.
I’d love to blame Tripp. To say he’s being a dick, to rail against him.
But I can’t.
I lied to him. I pushed him with too many changes for the team. And I got to pretend, for a little while, that I could belong somewhere.
But the truth is, it’s probably better to part ways now.
To cut our losses and run.
Much better now than when I decide I need a new challenge.
Especially since I can’t promise him nothing will ever happen to me.
I can’t. No one can.
32
Tripp
After quarantining myself for forty-eight hours at a hotel outside the city, I’ve realized what an ass I made of myself, and I don’t want to go home.
So I head to the one place I can count on for some peace and perspective.
Beck’s place in the mountains.
Waylon and my mom bring my kids out. Beck and Sarah show up. Levi cancels his studio time in New York and claims he’d always planned on coming in early for the holidays. Davis drives up to add to the torture.
And none of it helps.
I’m a fucking chickenshit.
I’m a fucking chickenshit with kids who are being entertained by everyone else, surrounded by bright, happy holiday decorations, and all I want to do is sleep.
And mourn.
I keep telling myself that if I’d gone straight to New York, if I’d been there sooner, at the first sign of trouble, I could’ve kept Lila from getting that sick. That I could’ve handled it better if I hadn’t let my imagination run away with me when she didn’t come home and when she didn’t start getting worse and when she didn’t insist on texting me instead of calling me.
But the truth is, I freaked out, and I can’t fucking handle it.
And if I can’t handle the woman I love getting sick without having a complete breakdown, then I have no business being in a relationship.
I didn’t miss being in relationships.
But I miss Lila.
I miss knowing that I’m the guy she’d confide in. I miss arguing with her. I miss laughing with her. I miss watching her hug Emma and her million unicorns, and I miss listening to her debate trucks with James. Fuck, I miss the Fireballs. But I miss her more.