Not My Romeo (The Game Changers #1)(90)

“I don’t know anything anymore.” He stands, a vulnerable, scared look on his face. His hands shake, and he sticks them in his jeans. He gulps in air. “I need . . . to get my stuff at your house.”

His laptop. His clothes he changed out of before we came. A funny mug he brought to drink coffee from with me in the mornings. A thriller he put on my coffee table.

He turns, then pauses and says, almost as an afterthought, “Do you need a ride?”

Is he serious? I can barely breathe and he’s . . .

I force control into my voice, but the edges tremble. “I’ll walk the two blocks. It’s a nice night. Please go ahead. The door is unlocked.”

His jaw pops as he throws a look at me. The scared look is gone, replaced by a blank face except for a muscle ticking in his jaw. “I brought you. I can take you home.”

I gaze at a point over his shoulder. “I don’t want to be there when you walk out, Jack.”

He hesitates for a second, then pivots and stalks away, shoulders swaying as he moves out of the gym exit and into the hallway. I bite my tongue to keep from calling him back to beg him to just believe in me.

I hear a door shut from the stage and turn to see Giselle there, horror on her face. “Elena, I’m so sorry I heard . . . I was grabbing some of the props, and then you two started talking . . . and . . .”

“It’s okay,” I push out, but I’m not okay.

I’m not. I’m not.

She drops her purse and runs to me and wraps her arms around me as I burst out crying anew. Her hand brushes at my hair. “You’re shaking all over, Elle. Let it out, sweetheart; no one is here but me.”

All I see in my head is his back. Walking away.

I love him. I love him.

And he’s throwing it all away.

He’s dismissing us without even trying.

He’s letting go of us.

Emotion pummels me, and I weep on her shoulder for a long time, the finality of his words playing over and over in my mind.

She stares down at me. “What can I do?”

I close my eyes. “Nothing.”

“I can kick him in the nuts.”

I laugh hoarsely, not meaning to, but the image of Giselle attacking Jack . . .

She takes my hand, lacing our fingers together like we used to when we whispered secrets to each other when we were little. She wipes my face. “Come on, Elle. Let’s get you home.”

Home.

I nod, and we leave the gym, the stillness of the dark hall a reflection of my heart. We get in her car and sit there for a few moments, both of us staring straight ahead, absorbing. I feel numb. Tired. I picture him walking through my house, gathering his small amount of belongings, and leaving.

God. I took too many chances. I accepted each day as it came, hoping that I’d get a little more.

Love is messy, and it takes two people to work at it, two willing people.

Jack will never let his heart go. Emptiness gnaws at me as I think about tomorrow. And the next day. Emotion builds again, and I clench my hands, keeping it at bay.

Giselle holds my hand.

“I think he’d be gone by now,” I say after a long exhale.

She cranks the car, and we drive to the house and head inside. His car is gone, of course. Topher meets us in the kitchen, eyes on me, worried. “What’s going on? Jack came in, then left. He looked . . . messed up.”

Giselle explains in a halting voice, from the conversation with Marvin to the one with Jack, and I head to the cupboard and get out the Pappy, pouring us all a drink.

I hand Giselle her glass, my hands shaky. I inhale a deep breath and look at Giselle . . . “Where’s your ring?” I ask, shoving Jack down deep and focusing on my sister.

She starts and blinks. “Elena, let’s talk about you and how you’re going to get through this play—”

“What happened?” I say, frowning.

She swallows a sip. “I ended the engagement with Preston today.”

“What did he do?”

“Um, sexting with his secretary at the law office. Found them on his phone yesterday. Very descriptive. Boob pics. The usual sordid shit.” She swallows her drink.

Giselle never curses.

“That sonofabitch,” I mutter.

“Asshole.” Topher shakes his head.

Her blue eyes find mine. “I suspected something for a while. Those Saturdays at work. Late evenings.”

“What is wrong with men?” I pour myself another shot. “Except for Topher. We love you.”

“Good to know,” he says, his gaze still watching me carefully.

She grimaces, staring into her glass. “Will you ever forgive me, Elena? I’m sick over it still. Dating him was stupid. Thank God I never slept with him. I think he put a ring on it just so I’d do it.”

I cough as my drink goes down. “What the hell? You’re still a virgin? At twenty-three? I just figured at some point . . .” I gape at her. She barely dated in high school. She never brought guys home from college.

She snorts. “You should see your face.”

I shake my head at her. “You’re an innocent! You have no experience with jerks like him. No wonder you fell under his spell! Oh my God. I will kill him.”

She sighs, that anxiousness still on her face, and I know what she wants. She needs to hear it from me because she never has.