Page 10 of Bad Call
“I…um…” I trail off, no idea how to explain myself. “No, but I thought I’d drop by in case you needed anything. I was in the area.” Stella swallows, her gaze locking onto mine for just a split second before she returns to her task. I don’t miss the way her hand shakes as she gently rubs the medication onto his skin.
“I must’ve really been zoning out,” he says with a laugh. “I didn’t even hear the doorbell.” Stella chokes on a cough, knowing damn well I didn’t ring it, but thankfully just continues working, covering the wound before pulling her gloves off and shoving them into the pocket of herpink scrubs. Reaching over him again, she lifts the sleeve of his hoodie, earning an exasperated eye roll as he carefully guides his arm inside. I can’t tear my eyes off her, noticing the way she winces when she stands to her full height. Her hand shoots to her lower back, rubbing at the muscle before twisting from side to side.
My instinct is to ask if she’s okay. Something is clearly wrong, but I know it’s not my place to dig…or to tell her to sit down like I want to. If I know her like I think I do, she’s putting all her energy into Austin’s recovery, forgetting to slow down for her own well-being in the process. She used to do the same thing to me every time I got injured on the field. It’s how I knew she’d make a phenomenal nurse.
It seems like a million years ago.
“I’ll leave you to visit,” she murmurs, barely loud enough for me to hear from where I’m standing across the room. “There’s a load of towels in the dryer, but don’t touch it. I don’t want you tweaking anything. I’ll take care of them in the morning, unless you need me before then. I’ll have my phone on me.”
He nods. “You’re the best, Stell.” My heart cracks in my chest at his use of her nickname, knowing that he has every right to use it, but I don’t. In fact, she doesn’t even glance my way as she turns toward me, eyes down at her feet while she walks past and right out of the room. It fucking sucks that we’re here, but after the way I talked to her last week, I’m not surprised that she doesn’t want to look at me. That day, I was positive it was what I wanted—for her to know I didn’t give a shit about her. To show her that I couldn’t stand the sight of her.
But now? Seeing her in pain and not being able to help is making me realize that staying away is going to be much harder than I thought.
TEN
STELLA
I pushthrough the door of the guesthouse, my head pounding as a sharp cramp shoots up my back. I started my period yesterday, but didn’t realize until this morning how bad it was. Normally, some ibuprofen would take the edge off, but I got so caught up in my tasks at Austin’s that I didn’t take them when I should’ve. Now, I’m at least a couple of hours past the point of fixing any of this with pain meds alone.
Moving toward the bedroom, I make my way to the en suite. I take two ibuprofen, my stomach roiling as soon as I swallow them down, because, in addition to neglecting my cramps and back pain, I also haven’t had a bite of food all day. Thankfully, I had a grocery delivery earlier this week, so I’ll be able to whip something up once I’m feeling better.
I turn on the sink, splashing some cool water onto my face before taking in my own reflection. My cheeks are pink, the bags under my tired eyes a pale purple that says exactly how little sleep I’ve been getting lately. I lookabout as good as I feel right now, knowing that I need a full night of rest to even have a chance at doing my job tomorrow. Thankfully, Austin should be all set for the evening, since I gave him everything he needed and cleaned his sutures before I left.
Exiting the room, I make a beeline for the bed. My back is screaming, so I place a hand over the tightest part, gently digging my fingertips into the flesh in an attempt to massage the sore muscles. I make a mental note to add a new heating pad to my next delivery order, wishing that I hadn’t forgotten about losing mine in the move to Cleveland.
Just as I go to pull back the covers, a muffled knock raps against the front door. Startled, I jump into action, worried that I forgot to do something over at the main house. I know I checked everything off my list for the day, but despite Austin’s improved mobility, there are still a lot of tasks he can’t do without help.
The pounding crescendos as I move through the living room, pulling the door open as fast as I can and freezing when I realize it’s not Austin that stands there, but Emmett. The concern that’s etched into his expression morphs into relief, but it doesn’t stay like that long as a mask of indifference slips back over his beautiful features. I hate every bit of it, even though I’m the one to blame.
“Hi,” I greet him quietly, my discomfort taking a backseat to the awkwardness that floats in the air between us. I wonder if it’ll be this way for the rest of my time here, him being a shell of the man I used to know, and me being terrified to say the wrong thing. He’s visited a few times now, and I think it’s good for Austin to have peoplearound, so the last thing I want to do is drive him away—no matter how difficult it is to be near him.
“I just wanted to make sure you were okay,” he grunts, shoving his hands into the pocket of his hoodie. Flashes of those thick, strong arms wrapped around me as we stood next to the weekly post-game bonfire play in my head as though they happened just yesterday, momentarily pulling me from the present. I can practically feel the warmth of his body enveloping me, his signature spicy cologne making me feel right at home. I barely even realize I’ve spaced out until he clears his throat, raising his brows as he awaits an answer.
“Oh,” I croak, shaking the memories from my head. “Yeah. Why wouldn’t I be?” He exhales a rushed sigh, pushing right past me and into the house. I’m caught off guard at first, his scent making my head spin as I close the door. I open my mouth to ask what he’s doing, but he cuts me off before I can utter a single word.
“I see you’re still a fucking liar,” he says lowly, the words like a blow to my already aching body. I want to tell him to leave—that now isn’t the time to reopen old wounds, but I don’t get a chance before he’s scanning the area and heading down the hallway. I trail behind, each step feeling as though a knife is being jammed into my back, but when he turns into my bedroom, I can’t help but follow him.
“Emmett, what are you doing?” I ask as he walks into the en suite, reaching down to twist the bathtub faucet handle like he owns the place. The water immediately begins to heat, steam rising up from the surface as it fills slowly.
“I watched you wince in there, and after you left, it hit me. It’s the last week of the month. You’re clearly in pain, overdoing it, and not taking care of yourself. I’d be willing to bet you haven’t eaten or consumed a single drop of water today, either. Take those scrubs off, soak your muscles, and food will be ready when you’re done.”
My mouth falls open at his words. It’s been over seven years. How does he still remember my cycle? He was always the most doting boyfriend during my period, bringing me all sorts of snacks and comfort items, and staying to cuddle me until my parents made him leave. But that was then, when he loved me. Now, I’m just his ex-wife—practically a nobody to him. He has no reason to be here, let alone actually give a shit that I’m struggling.
“I can do it on my own,” I say, his gaze shooting up to mine when my voice breaks. I blink away tears as they fill my eyes, refusing to cry in front of him. But the truth is, I’m fuckingtiredof doing everything alone. I know this is the life I created for myself when I divorced him, but it’s been clear to me for a long time that I made a monumental mistake. What seemed like the best thing for us both back then ended up setting me on a path of pain and longing, every milestone tainted by the missing piece of my heart—the one I tore out and gave to Emmett Hayes the day I walked away, knowing I’d never be complete without him. He may not realize it, but he still holds that part of me, and it kills me to know that he probably always will.
His expression softens, giving me a small glimpse of the loving, selfless man I once deserved. My heart twists painfully in my chest, hands clenched at my sides to keep from reaching for him. I’d like to blame it on beinghormonal and touch-starved, but I fear those things are coming in second place to the fact that I’d give anything to feel his arms around me just one more time. It’s haunted my dreams on more than one occasion, keeping me awake for nights at a time when my bed was particularly cold and empty.
“Stell,” he objects. “You’re taking care of him every day, but who’s taking care ofyou? I can’t leave you here to suffer. Just let me do this, then we can go back to ignoring each other like before.”
I swallow the lump in my throat, nodding slowly in agreement. His lips press into a flat line, eyes lingering on my exhausted face for just a moment before he slips out the door, pulling it closed behind him. As soon as he’s gone, the dam breaks, tears spilling down my cheeks as I drop my head into my hands. Anguish rips through me, and I sob silently, my entire body shaking until my throat hurts and I can barely breathe. Being so close to him is a mind-fuck, especially when the mask slips and he shows me a small sliver of the boy I fell in love with, only to quickly replace him with the cold, hardened man he became after I left.
Turning off the tap, I undress, letting my scrubs fall in a heap at my feet before stepping into the tub. As soon as I’m under the hot water, my muscles begin to unwind, a slow sigh tumbling from my lips as my eyes flutter closed. I sniffle quietly, listening as Emmett moves around the house, no doubt looking for everything I’ll need to feel better. Even though I hardly deserve it, I allow myself to imagine an alternate universe where I followed my heart and not my head, choosing to fight for the man whowanted nothing more than to build a future with me. Instead of him being a stranger, he’s still my husband, cooking dinner while I relax in the home we created together. And as I drift off, the warm bath almost rivaling his tender embrace, I feel like a piece of me has been returned, if only temporarily.
EMMETT
“Fuck,” I hiss, steam from the draining pasta hitting my face in a scalding hot cloud. Thankfully, Stella had all the ingredients for a basic spaghetti dinner, which I was able to quickly throw together while she soaks her sore body in the bathtub.
I could tell she was in pain at Austin’s, and it only took me about a minute to realize why. I guess I could’ve been wrong, since it’s been nearly a decade, but it was hard to ignore the way she flinched every time she crouched down or bent over. When we were together, those were telltale signs of period cramps. I’m glad I recognized it, because had I not snuck back to the guesthouse after leaving Austin, she probably would’ve taken some pain meds and passed out with an empty stomach. She’s always so worried about everyone else that she often forgets about herself, which is exactly why I’m here. I may be filled with resentment and anger for what she did to me—to us—but I can’t sit back and watch her struggle. If there’s a way for me to ease some of the discomfort she’s currently experiencing, I’ll do it. I’ll keep telling myself that I’m doing it for Austin, because she’s no good to him if she isn’t feeling well, but deep down, I know the truth. I’ll never be able tocarve Stella from my heart completely…no matter how much I want to.
