Page 36 of Home Run Fiancé
If that wasn’t bad enough, Asher wasn’t talking to me either. It took three calls, two texts, and twenty-four hours before he called me back. Maybe he just needed some time to come to terms with my school and career choices, but I didn’t expect him to go radio silent on me.
“Rhys. It’s not a good time. Can I call you back later?” Asher’s voice is clipped and hard.
I swallow. “Sorry, it’s just Jake’s not answering and you haven’t been answering either. I’m worried.”
Asher lets out a huge sigh and I feel bad for bothering him. “Listen, Jake’s having a bit of a career crisis right now. I need to handle it as his agent and his friend. You’ll have to wait to talk to him about the, um, contract you guys have. Okay?”
I frown, wondering what Jake could be going through. A flutter of worry, having nothing to do with me or our relationship status, hits my gut. I’ve been so preoccupied in my head, I only turned on the television to watch Jake’s away game last night and then spent all of today working on my YouTube business, Asher’s condescending tone fueling my productivity.
“What’s going on?”
There’s a silence for a beat or two, which only intensifies my worry.
“Have you talked to the press at all about Jake?” Asher finally asks. He sounds weird. Different.
I scrunch up my nose. “No. Why would I? I talked to them the other day outside the diner, but that’s it. I try to stay as far away from them as I can. You know that.”
“Hmm.” Asher covers the phone and hollers at someone before coming back to the phone. “Sorry. Look, I gotta call you back.”
“Okay, sure. Call me back as soon as you can.” I barely get the words out before he hangs up on me. That’s it. I’m officially worried. Five-alarm-fire worried.
Running over to my laptop, I start it up and immediately go to a celebrity gossip site. If Jake’s career is in crisis, I bet there’s something on the news channels about it. I’ll probably get more from them than I will Asher or Jake.
The first article that pulls up buckles my knees. Thankfully the couch is right there to catch me.
Jake Kersh In Talks With Texas Team. Danger Fans Crushed.
“Oh no….” My hand flies to cover my mouth, muffling the words. This isn’t good. No one was supposed to know about his meeting with Bobby. The trip to Texas was just to visit his sick mother. Jake must be so angry right now. Is that why he was quiet yesterday after breakfast? I thought it was because of something I said, but maybe he’d just found out about the leak somehow.
I put my laptop down and hop up to grab my phone, hitting Jake’s number immediately. Just like that, all the uneasiness I harbored about our relationship is pushed to the side in the face of this crisis. I have to talk to him. I have to help him through this. His phone starts ringing as I pace my living room.
Have you talked to the press?
Asher’s question floats through my brain as Jake’s phone rings and rings.
I gasp and hang up, throwing my phone down like it could bite me.
“That jerk!”
I grab the roots of my hair and pull, wishing it was Jake’s head instead. I can’t believe that jerk would think I sold him out. That had to be why Asher asked me if I talked to the press. Jake told him he thinks it was me. The anger is back, this time fueled by righteousness. I know I didn’t do anything wrong and I’m unbelievably angry that Jake couldn’t just call me up and ask me. Nope, that would be too mature. Instead, he just made a huge assumption and points all the blame at me.
“Of all the egotistical, ridiculous, asinine things that man has ever said…” I’m so angry I’m not watching where I’m going. I just know I have to move, have to blow off some steam before I march over to Jake’s house and wait for him to get home. I may be young and I may be a woman, but I could take him if I had the element of surprise. I’m sure of it.
I’m at least twenty laps in on the pacing of my tiny apartment when I finally calm down enough to think things through. Contrary to how Jake acts, I’m going to get the full story before confronting him. I sit back down on the couch and pull my computer onto my lap. The screen comes to life again and I scan down the article, reading the whole thing. They have some interesting details I could see would make me look guilty. The article even talks about what he was wearing to the meeting. How could they know that?
I click through to several other sites all carrying the same breaking story. Then I hit on another site with a slightly different story. The article starts off with the same rumors, but ends with a picture of Jake out to lunch with some dark-haired woman from just a few hours ago. He would have had to come straight from the plane home from Phoenix to meet up with her. The picture’s grainy, but they’re leaning across the table toward each other. It looks intimate. Some witty reporter asks where in the world is Rhys Close, his new fiancée?
Good question.
The bottom drops out and I fall back to Earth, where professional athletes like Jake Kersh don’t love mere mortals like me. I’m left feeling dizzy from the rapid fall, the swirl of emotions confusing me. The fight I was gearing up for drains out, along with any hope I had of smoothing things over with Jake. What’s the point of pleading my case and trying to prove I didn’t leak anything to the press when he’s already moved on?
I shake my head, refusing to acknowledge the tears flooding my eyes. I must not have meant much to him if he’s able to move on in a matter of twenty-four hours. The sting of his rejection is piercing. I truly thought we had something real. Something more real than I knew existed. And then he’s out with another woman.
My phone rings again and I don’t want to pick it up, even though it’s Asher calling me back. I don’t really want to talk to anyone right now. I just want to sit in my apartment and eat that ice cream Charlotte brought over last time she dropped by for a movie night. Maybe watch a stupid movie to make me forget the way the frown line between Jake’s eyebrows would go away the longer I badgered him. It was like a personal contest to see if I could get him to smile behind that beard of his. Just the thought of never making him smile again made me want to hide in my bed and never come out.
Asher’s call rolls to voicemail and then he calls back immediately, the sound grating on my nerves. I squeeze my eyes shut. I know he won’t stop calling until I pick up, so I do, pressing it to my ear and keeping my eyes closed.
“Hey,” I answer.
