That makes sense, but it still doesn’t answer the most important question. “Why didn’t you tell me about her before you went away? Why lie?”
Lance takes a sip of his water and clears his throat. “I didn’t want to mess things up and make you worry while I was gone. I guess that kind of backfired, huh?”
“I don’t understand the point of keeping it from me. Why not be honest that your ex was going to be there in the first place? This makes it look like you were hiding it.”
“That’s not what I meant to do.” He’s so forlorn.
“If we’re going to have any chance of working, we have to be transparent with each other. Especially about this kind of thing. It’s not avoidable, but I don’t want to be blindsided by it. Today was horrible for me. I’ve spent the entire day on edge, feeling awful and wondering what was so damaging that you needed to be here before I could see it.”
“I know. I’m sorry. But you get why I asked for that, right?”
“How often is this kind of thing going to happen? Are you going to avoid going out with your teammates every time you’re in LA? I mean, really, even that isn’t enough, is it?”
“Maybe you could come with me next time.”
“To LA?”
“Aye.”
“Why would I come to LA when you don’t even have me come to home games? What are you hiding from me? Her?”
“I’m not hiding anything. I’m protecting you.”
“From what? Or who?”
“The bunnies, the media crap. People will take pictures of you just like when we went out for dinner. But if you come to LA, you’ll know exactly where I am and what I’m doing.”
“It’s not the media I’m worried about. I don’t want to police your actions, Lance. I want to be part of your life, more than just this little slice you’ve carved out for us.”
“I just don’t want you dragged into all the shitty stuff that comes with being with someone like me.”
“You mean like Tash? You said she comes to your games when you’re in LA. And if she’s there, then what? Will she confront me? Will she do things to hurt me? You?”
He drops his head again. “I don’t know. I don’t think so. I told her it was done for good this time, that I wasn’t doing this with her any more. And I meant it. I don’t want to be that person.”
“I don’t understand why you still talk to her when she does these kinds of things to you. Why answer her calls at all? Why is she still messaging you?”
“She got vindictive if I didn’t respond. I didn’t feel like I had a choice.”
“But you gave her that power. Why let her have it at all?”
He’s fidgety, struggling with my questions. “I don’t know. We have similar backgrounds. She made it hard to walk away.”
“You realize these are all excuses you’re making for both of you. She still seems like part of your present, like you can’t let her go. If it’s only me, it can’t be her, too.”
“But she’s not part of my present any more. I told her that last night. I know she’s not good for me, and I don’t want that any more.”
“This is a discussion we should’ve had before you went away. We’ve been seeing each other for weeks. When would you have told me about her if this hadn’t happened?”
“I wanted to. I would have,” he says quickly.
“But when? She’s called when I’ve been with you. Do you call her back later? When we’re not together?”
“I’ve been ignoring her. I only talked to her that one time, and only because she kept calling, and I wanted to be clear that I wasn’t going to see her in LA. I promise I won’t talk to her any more. If she calls, I won’t answer. I’ll get a new phone so she doesn’t have my number. I’ll do anything, Poppy. Just please, give me a chance to fix this.”
I can hear the child in him, the beaten one, the one who’s been abandoned over and over again. But I have to protect myself too.
“This is a lot to take in, Lance. I don’t want to be responsible for allowing my heart to be broken.”
Panic flares in his eyes. “So what does that mean? Are you saying it’s over?”
“I’m not saying this is over. It’s not black and white. But I need some time to process all of this.”
His agitation makes the whole couch shake. His foot is going on the floor, the vibrations making the ice tinkle in his glass on the table. His elbows balance on his shaking knees, his fists clenching and releasing. I’m not sure whether to be afraid for him right now or not. I know he won’t hurt me, but he has a tendency to find ways to hurt himself.
I’ve seen him fight on the ice before, watched him take hits over and over until he’s finally had enough. He has to be pushed hard before he breaks. It’s like watching a rubber band snap, a bomb explode.
He runs a rough hand through his hair and down over his face. Balling it into a fist, he presses it against his mouth and makes a low sound. “How much?”
“How much what?”
“How much time will you need?” His voice is mangled.
“I don’t know. A week? Maybe more?”
He makes a noise that sounds a lot like a sob. “And I can’t see you at all?”
Oh, God. The look on his face is breaking my heart more than that picture, and that picture shredded me. “It’s not a good idea.”
“Fuck. Fuck.” He rubs hard at the space between his eyes with his knuckles. “Have I ruined this? I have, haven’t I?”
“You haven’t ruined it. I need time to think, Lance. This has been intense right from the start—and I mean a decade ago. Every time you come into my life again, my world is turned upside down. I need to figure out if I can handle this level of intensity all the time.” I also need time to figure out how to find balance with this man. I want to save him from himself, and keep myself safe at the same time. But I can’t stop myself from putting my hand over his knee.
He shudders and covers my hand with his. His palm is clammy and shaking along with the rest of him. Suddenly he’s on his knees in front of me. He wraps one arm around me and buries his face in my lap. The other hand grips my wrist. He presses my palm to the back of his neck, holding it there.
“I wanna deserve you. Why can’t I find a way to deserve you?”
Paralyzed by shock, I watch this huge man fall apart for an agonizing, protracted moment. Because I told him I need time. And that’s not unreasonable, I remind myself. Not after what I’ve just seen and what he’s told me.
I run my fingers through his hair, and he nuzzles in closer, another tortured sound leaving him, like he’s dying for the affection. I consider that for a moment—how he’s gone through life prepared for the women in it to hurt him, rather than care for him.
I don’t want to be that all over again, but I have to manage all the feelings I have for and about this man. I let him stay on the floor in front of me, for as long as I can, but eventually I stroke his cheek.
He turns his head like he’s chasing the touch. He catches my hand and brings my fingers to his mouth. “I’m sorry,” he whispers.
“I know you are.”
He lifts his head, but keeps a tight hold on my hand. “But you can’t forgive me?”
“I didn’t say that. Just give me some time to get this all sorted out.”
“That’s not a yes.”
“It’s not a no, either. I’m not going to lie and tell you this is okay, because for me it’s not. But that doesn’t mean I won’t get over it. I need time to process, okay? I have to figure out if I’m ready for something like this.”
That someone else wields such power over him scares me, especially since she’s been such a negative force in his life. I don’t think I could bear it if I let him into my heart the way I want to, only to have their pattern prove impossible for him to break. What will I do if he discards me like she seems to do to him, over and over again?
CHAPTER 23
DEPRIVATION
POPPY