Page 113 of The Pucking Wrong Guy

I would love Ari Lancaster for the rest of my existence either way.

CHAPTER25

BLAKE

Days passed, and one morning, the silence between us became too much.

"It’s been twenty-one fucking days, Blake,” Ari murmured from behind me as I stood in the kitchen staring listlessly into the pantry. I’d lost ten pounds from not eating. He’d been leaving me breakfast every morning. But nothing sounded remotely appetizing.

I turned, my heart already heavy with dread. “Okay,” I said, my voice trembling. I didn’t turn to look at him. It still hurt too much.

He took a deep breath, and I could feel the weight of his gaze, like a living, breathing thing. “You won’t talk to me. You won’t touch me. Hell…you won’t even look at me! Give me something. Tell me you’re trying to forgive me. Give me some fucking hope!”

I finally turned, taking in his beauty and immediately wanting to cry. There were dark circles under his eyes, his hair was all over the place, he also seemed like he’d lost weight.

“I should break up with you. Because nothing about what’s happened is normal…or okay. Nothing. How am I supposed to trust you?” I whispered, and he flinched like I’d shot him instead of spoken the truth.

What I didn’t say, at least not yet, was that I’d never be able to break it off. I needed time to get past this, but I already knew I’d never be able to say goodbye.

I loved him too fucking much.

That night, he didn’t come for me. I woke up in the middle of the night like I always did now, and it wasn’t in his arms, it wasn’t in our bed.

I cried out as pain sparked across my chest. My heartache was literally destroying me from the inside out. Oh my god! Why the fuck did it have to hurt so bad?

I sobbed into my hands.

I’d almost forgotten what it felt like not to be lonely.

But here it was.

Excruciating. Tortuous. Enough to make me bleed.

When I got up the next morning, the house was completely silent, and cold, and unwelcoming, and…awful.

I walked out to the kitchen, expecting to see Ari making a shake, or cooking eggs, or doing something…but he wasn’t there.

I wandered through the house, towards our room, unable to stop myself. And there he was.

Fully dressed.

A suitcase on the bed.

I froze, staring at the bag in shock. He slowly turned from where he’d been putting a shirt into it. And we just stared at each other. The silence miserable and laden with so much pain it was all I could do to stay standing up.

"I'm going back to Dallas,” he whispered.

My hands began trembling.

“What?”

He fidgeted, picking at a string on his shirt. “My agent’s working on a trade with the Knights—a midseason trade in exchange for some draft picks.”

There was a loud buzzing sound in my ears, a tightening in my chest, like my heart was being squeezed in a fist. I rubbed at it, wondering if this was what it felt like to have a heart attack.

Ari's gaze was filled with pain as he continued, "I can’t watch you be so miserable. I can’t be the reason that all your light fades. I love you enough to let you go, to stop forcing you to be with me.”

He lifted a trembling tattooed hand to his face and rubbed at his forehead.

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