Player(86)

I was left alone, left to breathe and listen and interject when I had something to say. By the time we cleaned up, I was exhausted. It was that soul-deep fatigue that camped out in your marrow and twined around every vein, the kind that no amount of sleep could relieve.

I said my goodbyes, smiled and sank into one hug after another, each one containing a silent apology, an unvoiced wish, wordless understanding. When I reached the quiet hallway where my coat hung, I pulled it off the hook and shrugged into it, already dreading being alone again.

At least when I was around people, I could pretend I was fine.

“If you’re not okay, just say so. I’d be happy to break Haddad’s face again.”

I tried to smile, turning to find Dante behind me. His expression was both sheepish and hard, hands in his pockets and a crooked smile on his face.

“I don’t feel like I should reinforce your terrible behavior, but thanks. For sticking up for me, that is.”

A shrug. “It’s no big deal. He’s not the first dumbfuck I’ve punched for hurting you, but I hope he’s the last.”

“Why? Did you hurt your hand?”

“Nah. I’m just sick and tired of guys thinking they can treat you like anything but the princesa Abuela says you are.”

My mushed-up heart melted a little more. Pretty soon, it’d be leaking out of me. When tears pricked the corners of my eyes, I realized it already was.

“Well, thanks, Dante. For everything.”

“It’s nothing. I’m sorry for what he did. If he hadn’t left Jackson’s face covered in gore, I would have done it myself.”

I picked up my bag, blinking back tears and sniffling against the itch in my nose. “Fuck that guy. Fuck him so hard.”

Dante took a breath like he was about to speak but held it, watching me for a second. “For what it’s worth, Sam really does care about you. I know what he did was fucked up—trust me, I could have broken his fucking arm in four places without feeling guilty about it. But…” He sighed, dragging his hand through his dark hair.

I folded my arms. “Are you…are you about to defend Sam? To your sister? Who he led on and had a fake relationship with because of a bet?”

He sighed again, this time with his face quirked like he was having some battle inside the muscles of his face. “Maybe. I mean, I’m just saying, Val. He’s a total piece of shit, but maybe you should hear him out. You know? Because if you ever want to move on, whatever that means for you, you have to talk to him. Closure or some shit, right?”

I laughed. “Oh my God, Dante. Have you been reading self-help books again?”

“Listen, Rising Strong will change your life. Don’t judge me for trying to be a better me.”

I held up my hands in surrender, giggling. “Fair enough.” But my smile fell as I spoke. “Dante, Sam was the one who moved us from friends to more. He was the one who asked me for that. I would have been okay. I could have moved on even though I’ve had a thing for him since the first time I laid eyes on him. I knew where the boundaries were, and I could have kept that last scraggly bit of the wall I’d built standing. But then he asked me for more, and it all came down. I lost myself, let myself fall. I knew I could get hurt, but this…this was so far beyond what I could have imagined.”

“I know. But the guy I know wouldn’t have asked you to be his girlfriend if he wasn’t serious. He wouldn’t have come here to meet us—to try to win me over—because of a bet with Jackson. He came here because he wanted to and because it was important to you. I’m not saying you have to forgive him. I’m just saying you should listen to him. Let him say what he needs to say, throw himself at your feet and grovel. Just…hear him out.”

I nodded. “I’ll think about it. Thank you, toro.”

He smiled and reached for me, pulling me in for a crushing hug. “No prob, conejita. Te amo.”

“Yo también.”

With a final squeeze, he let me go.

He watched me walk away and out into the cold autumn evening.

I pulled my coat closed against the chill, buttoning it up as fast as I could before burying my hands in my pockets. But I could still feel the sting of cold.

It was only in part because of the weather.

I knew I’d have to talk to Sam eventually. Probably. I hadn’t expected him to disappear from work like he did, and I think part of me believed at some point, we would speak again. I’d imagined a hundred scenarios. I didn’t want to deal with any of them.

But Dante wasn’t wrong. I’d have to talk to him if I wanted to move on.

Could I forgive him? Would I? If he stood before me and begged me for forgiveness, could I say no?

Should I?

They weren’t questions I could answer. Fortunately, I hadn’t had to.

I wondered again where he’d been, what he’d been doing. Why he’d been missing work. It couldn’t have been because of me. The image of him, unwashed and miserable, flashed through my mind, and I almost laughed at the absurdity. It had to be something else. His family maybe. A project. Something that had coincidentally aligned with our last argument and my request for solitude.

Maybe I could call him. My stomach flipped, and I amended that to, Maybe I should text him.

I didn’t feel ready. But I didn’t know if I’d ever feel ready.