Page 56 of The Rival (Looking to Score 2)
She nodded, and then I gave her a long hug.
I didn’t want to leave—even to drive into town for shed supplies—since we were down to our final days together, but I also needed to pick up a few bottles of wine and some more condoms to replace what I’d taken from Saint. Plus, I wanted to get Aspen something special as a gift. But what to get her? A T-shirt from a gift shop doesn’t exactly scream thank you for all the tender care, all the awesome sex, all the laughs we shared this summer.
But now when I return, the house is quiet. Wandering through each room, I look for Aspen. Not finding her inside, I head for the glass doors.
“Babe?” I call out, peeking outside onto the deck. A bird chirps back at me, but otherwise it’s silent.
I take the stairs two at a time, and when I reach the master bedroom, I pause. It’s empty. The bed is neatly made, and all her bags are gone. A deep, stabbing feeling radiates through my chest.
What the hell?
I never expected Aspen to be gone when I returned. She didn’t say anything about taking off, but she’s left, and not just to run an errand. She’s gone back to Boston without saying a damn word. Why?
When I find a note from her downstairs on the kitchen island, I pick it up with shaking hands. After reading it twice, I’m still confused.
I thought what we shared meant something. Yeah, it was short term, but it was meaningful, wasn’t it? Or was I just some rebound fling like she said she wanted at the beginning? I thought we’ve grown, turned into something that would transcend this place. We didn’t talk about how it would work yet with my season, or with my ex being her boss, but they weren’t insurmountable things. We could have figured them out. Or so I thought.
I grab my phone and consider calling her. But what will I say without sounding like an emotional mess? Or worse, a pissed-off asshole? I thought I deserved way more than just some three-line see ya later note, but I guess I was wrong.
Aspen’s rejection feels like being punched right in the insecurities. Sure, I lost Eden, but that was my fault. I’ve learned a lot about myself since our breakup. I actually am a relationship guy. And now I know I’d like nothing more than a good woman waiting for me when I get home from away games. A woman to share home-cooked meals with me. Spending mornings laughing in bed and sleeping next to her all night, without having to worry if she was going through my phone or planning to take a selfie with me to sell to the tabloids.
But just like I always do, I managed to fuck it all up. I don’t know how, but I know I did. Because Aspen’s not here, and I’m alone.
Again.
22
* * *
ASPEN
After I insisted I could handle move-in day by myself, Eden and Holt were determined to find another way to help.
That’s how I ended up with a bunch of free furnishings for my apartment, either donations from their personal collection or straight-up brand-new gifts. I squeeze against the wall on the first-floor landing so the larger of my two helpers can carry up a small but hefty table that I offhandedly said I liked when I was still staying with them.
“Thank you,” I say meekly as Holt passes by me.
“You got it,” he says with a nod, disappearing up the second flight of stairs and rounding the corner to enter my new apartment. It’s not a big place, but a one-bedroom with central air and a combo washer-dryer unit suits me just fine.
My new full-size mattress arrived this morning, compressed into a cardboard box seemingly manageable enough for one person to move. But when I try to lift it by myself, I only end up red-faced and sore. Eden jogs down the steps, looking like an athletic-wear model with her long blond hair tied up in a high ponytail and her fit figure wrapped in comfortable but flattering workout clothes.
“Need a hand?” she asks, and I nod with a heavy sigh. Together, we lift the box up the stairs, taking breaks along the way as needed.
Propping the box against the stairway wall, I say through panting breaths, “I can’t thank you enough . . . for helping me out. I just wish . . . I’d found a place that wasn’t so . . . so hard to get to.”
Eden waves the comment away with her hand as she sucks in a deep breath. “Don’t even. It’s smart to be on an upper floor. Less chance of someone breaking in through the window, you know? As a woman, I respect it.”
“I hadn’t thought about that.” I chuckle a little numbly. I’ve never lived on my own before, so everything feels new. There are plenty of reasons to be freaked out about living on my own, so what’s one more to add to the list?
