Page 97 of Dream Girl Drama

What the fuck am I going to do?

Go to Los Angeles. Save himself. Save her. She’d been strong enough to start the process of separating them, now she needed him to take the baton. Do what needed to be done. He couldn’t live this close to her and not be with her. His heart was a constant eruption of pain the longer this went on. Being in the same town as her only made it harder.

Sig snatched up his phone and typed the words.

I’ll be in LA meeting with a new team. I’m sorry.

He sent the message, felt his chest rip open, and immediately tried to unsend the text, no idea why or what it would accomplish. Only that he was going to die if he didn’t give Chloe what she needed. Knowing the news would gut her, as much as it gutted him, was like a recurring blow to his solar plexus. But the deal was sealed. No unsending.

Sig fell onto his couch, head in his hands. Fingers ripping at his hair.

Go.He needed to go now before he went to see Chloe.

Get to LA. Sign a fucking contract. Play hockey until his body gave out.

That was all he could do now.

When an email alert popped up on the screen of his phone, signaling that he had a new message from his private investigator, he deleted the notification without looking, deciding he’d had more than enough irony for one lifetime.

Chapter Twenty-Six

Sig stood at the bottom of the narrow metal stairs, looking up into the interior of the private plane. He couldn’t feel the duffel bag thrown over his shoulder or the nighttime breeze tousling his hair. His reflection in the hand railing was his only clue he’d made it to the airfield where LA had sent the VIP treatment. He’d slowly lost feeling everywhere. But he needed to get up the stairs, into the plane, so it could take off and fly him to the other side of the country. That’s what was happening. No stopping now.Go.

Grinding his molars together, Sig forced himself to ascend, one step at a time, ignoring the phone that vibrated nonstop in the front pocket of his jeans. Burgess had been calling him all day, no doubt wanting to talk him out of the decision he intended to make. Reese had called, as well, asking him once again to reconsider. Hell, even Mailer and Corrigan were on his ass, but they didn’t understand what it was like to love someone to the point of pain and give her up. God willing, they never would.

Sig collapsed into the first seat, staring blankly ahead.

His phone continued to buzz, carrying on for several minutes until he sighed, leaned back, and extricated the device from his pocket. Instead of Burgess, Reese, or one of the Rookies calling him, however, it was the private investigator.

“Jesus. What the...” Sig shook his head. Why was the guy still calling? He’d sent the final payment. What more did theman want from him? At this point, the fact that he’d hired a PI felt ridiculous. He’d never really had a chance of success, had he?

Maybe he owed the man a verbal goodbye. At the very least.

It hurt to think, to talk, so he’d avoided speaking to virtually everyone for the last few days, but he cursed and answered now, hoping to get the conversation over in under a minute. “Hey, Niko. Sorry I’ve been MIA, but I’m just about to take off on a flight—”

“Shit, man. You had me worried.”

Sig frowned. That was a little extreme, wasn’t it?

Maybe not. Maybe everyone in his life should be concerned about him, considering he felt like a bleeding chunk was missing from his chest. “I’m good,” he lied. “Thanks for—”

“I shouldn’t have sent that file over without preparing you first. Some people don’t take that kind of news very well. It’s upsetting, you know?”

What in God’s name was Niko talking about?

“To be honest, I didn’t bother looking at the file. My father ended up marrying Sofia Clifford in Vegas last week, so... not much point in trying to fight it now.”

There was an extended silence on the other end. “You didn’t look at the file?”

Beneath Sig, the plane engine started with a brief growl that settled into a hum.

“Nah, didn’t look. And it’s not that I don’t appreciate your hard work. I do—”

“I think you should look.”

Irritation crawled up the back of Sig’s neck. Why wasn’t the private investigator taking the hint? Hope had withered and died on the floor of Chloe’s apartment and reigniting that flame was fucking cruel. “There’s nothing it could say that would make a difference.”

“Don’t be so sure,” Niko said, with a humorless laugh. “Look, I’m not going to force you to do anything you don’t want to do. If this is where we part ways, so be it. I appreciate the prompt payment. Good luck.”

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