Page 126 of Fangirl Down

Oh God, she could feel herself entering the bargaining phase of grief and she couldn’t do anything to stop herself from going there. The more he spoke, the more she loved him and the more she was determined to stop him from being his own worst enemy. “You threw a reporter’s camera in a pond last week. You’re a beast with the media. We’ve come so far in just two tournaments, Wells. Imagine what we could do with one more? Maybe two.”

There was so much affection in his eyes when he looked at her, she almost had to kneel down to shoulder it all. “You will never leave me, belle. I have to do it for you.”

She shook her head, tears splashing down her cheeks. “No, you don’t.”

He closed his eyes for a moment. When he opened them again, a fine sheen had developed. “I had no idea what unconditional love looked like until you, Josephine. You taught me how to be like this. And I will love you whether or not you’re helping me win some fucking game. We. Are bigger. Than a game.Someday, when you’re done being angry with me for this, I will be waiting to show you that. I’llinventnew ways to show you.” He covered his eyes with a hand and took a long shuddering breath. “But right now, you have to go.”

The words were hardly out of his mouth before Josephine was moving blindly through the apartment, scooping her things off various surfaces, the floor, her legs almost too unsteady to hold her up. Was she mad at him? Unspeakably. He had no right to cut her off at the knees like that. Who did he think he was, making choices for her?Calling her father?

Throwing in her face how easily she’d been willing to abandon her own dream.

I have to get out of here. Before I try to convince him to let me stay.

Before I betray myself again.

Josephine was undoubtedly leaving personal items behind, but she didn’t care. Eyes blurred with tears, she pulled on some jeans, ordered an Uber that would probably cost her a fortune, bundled her overnight bag to her chest, and speed-walked toward the front door.

Wells tried to step into her path, but she had too much momentum and easily skirted past him without braking. “Josephine, stop.”

“You just told me to leave.”

“Don’t go like this,” he growled, catching her around the waist with a forearm and dragging her back against his chest. “Tell me you fucking love me.”

“I love you!”

Air burst out of him, followed by a ragged intake of breath, and Josephine knew that he hadn’t really expected her to say it. That made two of them. Maybe when those three words were so unequivocally true, they couldn’t be kept inside if someoneinvoked them. “Tell me we’ll get through this,” he begged into the back of her neck.

Now that, it appeared, was a request she couldn’t grant. Not when she was this hurt, angry, and confused. “I can’t see into the future, Wells.”

“I can. My future is with you. That’s the only future I’ll ever want.”

Anything resembling energy was ebbing from Josephine’s limbs. The shock of being fired and told to leave by the man she loved was rendering her numb, like a small mercy. She needed to go, before she slumped back into his arms and cried like a baby. Her self-respect was full of holes after nearly abandoning her dream. Her pride was weak after having her offer to stay rejected. So she mustered up what little of those qualities she had left and wiped her eyes. “Don’t be afraid to lay up on that par five at Augusta. Slow and steady, okay?”

She pulled open the door and left, closing it on an anguished rasp of her name.

Chapter Thirty-Four

The night before the opening round of the Masters, Wells sat at the bar in the players’ lounge, staring down into a glass of whiskey. He’d ordered it over twenty minutes ago, but hadn’t yet taken a sip. The energy in the dimly lit bar was high and familiar, everyone buzzing about the tournament of the year. The Masters brought out all the legends, and they mingled with the young guns now, reminiscing about their glory days, holding court in their green jackets. Who would have the honor of winning one this year?

Josephine would have loved this.

That’s what made his guts feel like they were in a miserable pile on the floor.

He no longer had insides, really. They had just kind of fallen out when she left.

Correction, when hetoldher to leave.

Before that thought could sprout teeth, Wells snatched up the whiskey and drained it, imploring the burn to work higher than his throat. To somehow singe away the memories of his fight with Josephine. Oh God, she’d been so hurt. He’d known she would be, but he’d underestimated. She’d gone white as a fucking ghost and he couldnotstop seeing that. It was like a horror film playing in his brain 24-7. On their first night in San Antonio, she’d told him having her help rejected hurt her feelings. Itwas her trigger—along with going to her parents for help—and he’d pulled them both.

But he’d seen no other way.

Did he do the right thing?

Did he?

He’d sat there all night trying to come up with solutions and he’d found only one no-fail way to combat Josephine’s fierce loyalty. But, holy shit, was he suffering now. Not having Josephine around was like being dropped off alone on the moon, seven billion light-years from his beating heart. She hadn’t stopped sharing her blood sugar data with him—that was the only thing that gave him hope that they would come out on the other side of this fight intact.

He could still see the rising and falling dots. He could still see she was okay. And thank God for that, because if she’d taken away that trust, he’d have crumbled.

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