Page 90 of Heartbreaker
I’m shocked when she pauses outside her door after I call out to her. I’ve tried to start the conversation so many times over the last two days, but every time the words get caught in my throat. And right now it’s no different…I think back to last night in the car after the final interview, when I invited her to dinner and she refused. When I tried to persuade her by saying that sheneededto eat, she said she would eat, just not with me.
Her brow raises, her impatience growing with each passing second that I don’t say something. She undoes the straps of her shoes, slipping her right foot out of the black high heel, and then her left. A sharp inhale accompanies a slight grimace when she puts weight on it.
“You should get that looked at,” I say, and her eyes snap up to meet mine.
“I told you, I’m fine. I’ll be better once I don’t have to wear heels for fourteen hours straight. Now what do you want?”
“I-I, uh…” There’s so much I want to say, so much I need to say, but nothing comes out. “Never mind. G’night,” I say, stuffing my hands into my pockets and walking down the hall.
The entire sixty-second walk to my room, I wrestle with whether to continue on the path forward or turn around, knock on her door, and just lay it all out. Everything. Past and present. The only thing that stops me is knowing that’s not a good idea. When she left two years ago, when I made her go, that was the end of everything—the end of us. We said what we had to say in those final moments, and when she told me she didn’t love me, it was her way of saying she was done. She wanted me to let her go…so, I did. Right?
No.
I haven’t let her go, not really. Savannah Williams still has a hold on me. She stole my heart years ago and never gave it back, not even the day she walked out that door. And now, seeing her, being forced to stand beside her and pretend like everything is okay, has only intensified the longing I’ve felt in my heart.
I wave the keycard over the lock, gripping the door handle, but I don’t go inside. For one more glance down the hallway, I’m torn between doing what I should do and what I want to do.
I have so many questions—so many things I want to hear about from her and not just from the hushed conversations our friends have when they think I’m not listening…
I heard about how she became the cheer coach at her old high school, how Bodhi graduated from law school two weeks before Blake got married, how Laine opened a restaurant in Celestia, and, of course, all about Crew and Amara’s big day. I heard about them all, and every time something came up, I’d quietly send some congratulatory message or gift.
Now, I’m standing outside my hotel room, and all I want is to hearhervoice. Not the one I’ve been hearing all day—notSavvy Skye.I want to talk to Savannah.
I turn on my heel, taking the first step back down the hallway, when my phone rings.Brody. I stare down at the screen, debating whether or not to answer. Perhaps this is a sign I’m not supposed to turn around, that I should go inside and leave her be.
My shoulders fall with a heavy sigh, and I unlock my hotel room again. I answer the phone, “What?”
“Good to hear your voice, too, Brooksy boy. How’s it going?” my best friend asks.
I scrub a hand down my face. “You know how it’s going.”
“Well.” Brody chuckles. “If that Monahan interview is any indication—”
“You didn’t tell me about Jaxon.” Actually, none of them did. They were all at the wedding, but never told me Jaxon was there. Neither did my sister, but that’s a conversation I’ll have with her later.
“There was nothing to tell.”
“Not from where I was sitting.”
“John, nothing happened,” Brody says, and his use ofJohnshocks me. My best friend never calls me by my first name. “Jaxon was there, she was there. They’re friends. They had maybe a five-minute conversation and took a picture. She’s allowed to take pictures with her friends.” He sighs, and I can practically see him pacing the length of his bus, Rae somewhere in the background, pretending like she isn’t listening to the conversation. She’s probably even texting Savannah about it as we speak. “Have you guys talked?”
“Not really.”
Brody grumbles under his breath. “How do you expect to work together if you can’t even speak to one another?”
“What am I supposed to say, Brod?” A humorless laugh escapes me as I sit on the edge of the bed.
“Oh, I don’t know. You could probably start with an apology.” He cuts me off when I start to ask him what for. “Apologize for telling her to get out—”
“She said she didn’t love me.”
“Because you told her to.”
“Her shit was packed. Crew was there. She was leaving regardless.” Brody sighs on the other end of the line, and I do the same. Honestly, I’m not sure who I’m trying to convince more—me or him. “I have to go.”
“Brooks, talk to her.”
I should be in bed, but instead I’m two hours deep in a workout at the NextGen training center. We have to be in Memphis tomorrow for an untelevised show, and I have to be at the airport first thing in the morning. I probably should’ve left today with Brody and Rae, but I needed the space, and I think they did, too. The idea of being stuck on a tour bus with them for twelve hours sounds like a nightmare. Don’t get me wrong, I love them, and I’m grateful they’re letting me take over their guest room, but everyone needs a break sometimes. Not to mention, after the way Raelynn poked and prodded me at the end of our beach day, I definitely wasn’t looking forward to being stuck on a bus with her.
