Page 118 of Play Book

“I know, but she’s my responsibility. I have to take care of this because… well, I did promise her that I wouldn’t let anything happen to her. And even if I hadn’t, I mean, she slapped an eleven-year-old for reading in bed. On a Saturday night! What the fuck?”

“I don’t understand people,” I say, shaking my head.

“I’m sorry…” He runs his hands through his hair. “I have to deal with…”

“It’s okay. Do what you have to do. It’s almost six, so we were going to get up soon anyway. I’ll order coffee.”

“Thanks, babe.” He brushes a kiss on my forehead and then gets on the phone.

He calls Colleen, then Marjorie—who doesn’t answer—and then the airline.

I sit on the bed watching helplessly as he tries to handle a situation he’s not at all prepared for.

And it’s obvious he doesn’t want my help.

I understand, because I do have to work, and Ally seems extremely vulnerable and emotional right now, but it hurts a little.

If we’re going to be a couple, shouldn’t we be dealing with this together?

Ally has no reason to hate me. I’ve never been anything but kind and patient with her, so it’s frustrating to be in a situation like this.

And if I’m honest, I’m afraid.

I’m totally invested—in both of them—but I can feel him pulling away, focusing on his niece instead of me.

It’s reasonable. Expected even. But that doesn’t make me feel any better about it.

Will Ally always manipulate our lives?

I’m willing to make sacrifices for her, because her situation breaks my heart, but she won’t let me get close enough to show her how much I want to be there for her. And then it seems like every time Canyon and I find our groove as a couple, something happens to put distance between us. It’s beginning to frustrate me even though it’s no one’s fault.

“I’m on an eight o’clock flight,” he tells me as he gets dressed. “I’ve already called for a cab. I’m sorry I have to miss the breakfast, but I need to deal with this.”

“I understand.”

He pauses. “I’m sorry this keeps happening.”

“Me too.”

Our eyes meet, and I can see the conflict in his.

He’s struggling too.

And this isn’t his fault.

“Go,” I say gently. “Take care of her. You’re all she has. I’ll be fine.”

“I really am sorry.” He reaches out to stroke my cheek. My skin tingles from his touch, and I long to throw my arms around him, but he doesn’t need me to make things any harder on him. He has enough to deal with.

“Call and let me know what happens,” I say.

“I will.”

He still looks conflicted, and I motion with my chin. “Go on. Your cab is probably here.”

“I’ll call you when I get there,” he says finally.

“Okay. And fire that bitch.”

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