Page 98 of Power Play

Chapter 33

Say It, and I’m Yours

LAYLA

Now, November

The game has already started;the Thunders are playing at home against Montreal. Angie took Maya with her to the arena, while I pretended to be sick. She didn’t believe me. My red-rimmed eyes didn’t fool her. Neither did the grimace I tried to pass off as a smile.

She asked me if Maya could stay for a sleepover with her and Drake, and I immediately agreed. I needed it so I could throw myself a pity party. One night to bawl my eyes out without being afraid that Maya would see. Without needing to explain why I look like absolute shit.

Just me, a bottle of white wine, and my favorite show in the world—Gossip Girl.

I’m on season five, and my mood is so awful not even Dan and Blair’s relationship annoys me. They look cute, I guess.

Reaching for my glass, I glance at my phone lying on the table but decide against it, leaning back into the couch instead. I’m acting like a fucking child, but I can’t be the bigger person. I can’t make myself read his texts. It’s going to hurt more if I do.

The most ridiculous thing is that I knew this was coming. I didn’t want to admit that. I wasn’t naive enough to actually expect a happy ending. I don’t deserve one. Not after everything I did to him. Not after I kept him hidden like some dirty little secret, so afraid of what Drake and our friends would think about me if they knew I was still sleeping with Clay even after our breakup. Even after I broke his heart. That I was seeing him every summer, staying at his house in Chicago, letting him lie to his parents, to his best friend, simply because I was a coward who couldn’t admit—to him and most importantly to myself—that I loved him. Only him. And that I made a horrible mistake when I left him after his graduation.

People like me don’t deserve to be happy.

Eli’s words ring in my ears, and I stiffen, hugging myself tightly. The words he said to me when I caught him packing his bags after I came back from a walk with Maya. He said I ruined everything. That I was too demanding, too annoying, too dependent. That I suffocated him with my worries and my jealousy. That he did everything he could to love me, but I made it impossible. That I was too much.

I was unlovable, he said.

And, because of me, he couldn’t love Maya either.

I hide my face in my hands, my body wracked by sobs. Tears stream down my cheeks. I’m a mess—and, truth be told, I always have been. Only someone like me could lose a guy like Clay.

It took me three weeks to start doing something. The first week, Maya and I stayed home, dealing with a stomach flu and whatever virus we caught along with it. I would text him, tell him about our days and how Maya was feeling, ask about his days. And he was texting back. His days were full of games and practices, and I began to convince myself that I should keep my distance. That I’d fix everything once he had a schedule that wasn’t so busy.

Maya’s constant questions about Clay pushed me to act sooner and in a more spontaneous way than I’d planned. I sent him a text yesterday, asking if we could visit since we were already in his neighborhood. He didn’t reply until we were already home.

His text still gave me hope. And, like the hopeless idiot I am, I went to his place right after I took Maya to preschool. I even brought him donuts, hoping we could share them and talk.

Joke’s on me—he already had someone to share them with. Someone more beautiful than me. Someone who wouldn’t hurt him like I did, who would make him happy.

I swear I didn’t even flinch when Dylan opened his door dressed in only his black tee. She smiled at me with her usual friendly smile, said something nice that my brain didn’t register. Then I handed her the box of donuts and fled the scene. Seeing him with her would’ve broken me.

I saw his calls and texts when I got home, but I didn’t reply to any of them. Instead, I went to her socials and realized what an idiot I’ve been. She’s been to all their home games, taking pictures with her friends at the arena, taking pictures with him and his teammates. She was there for him when I couldn’t be. She wasn’t hiding, wasn’t pretending…and now she’s got him, while all I have is a broken heart. Now I have to have a talk with Maya, to explain to her why we can’t visit him again and why he won’t visit us either.

Exactly what I wanted to avoid at all costs.

But I can’t say I don’t deserve it.

Taking a deep breath, I wipe away my tears, pick up my glass from the table, and take a sip of wine. I better stop—all these what-ifs and regrets won’t take me back in time to fix everything. It’s a done deal, and I need to accept it and move on.

That’s all there is to it.

The knockon my door catches me halfway to my bedroom. Huffing, I turn around and go to answer it. I’m a bit lightheaded, but it’s nothing a good night of sleep can’t fix. Though if it’s Angie and Maya, my plans to go to bed are down the drain.

I open my door and immediately want to close it again. He stands there in his infuriating beauty, wearing a dark green hoodie and black jeans. His eyebrows are pulled together, his eyes laser focused on me.

“Hey, Layla.”

“I have nothing to say to you except be happy.” I grip the door, trying to keep my balance. “Be happy, Clay, and goodbye.”

I push the door closed, but he stops it with his foot. “We need to talk,” he says, his voice firm and stoic.

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