and returned a moment later with the water. “Drink. I mean it this time.”
Gavin opened the bottle and sucked down half. After a few minutes, the room was no longer spinning. “What are they doing here?”
“You’ll find out.” Del sat down on the lid of the toilet and leaned forward, elbows on knees. “You all right?”
“No.” Gavin’s throat convulsed. Shit. He was going to lose it in front of Del. He squeezed his eyes shut and pressed the pad of his thumb into the space between his eyebrows.
“You go ahead and cry, man,” Del said, tapping Gavin’s foot with the toe of his sneaker. “No shame in that.”
Gavin propped his head against the wall again as twin tears rolled down his cheeks. “I can’t believe I lost her.”
“You’re not going to lose her.”
“She w-w-wants a divorce, asshole.”
Del didn’t react to his stutter. No one on the team did anymore, mostly because Gavin had stopped trying to fight it around them. Which was one more in a long list of things he had Thea to thank for. Before he met her, he was self-conscious, hesitant to speak even in front of people he knew. But Thea was completely unfazed the first time he stuttered in front of her. She didn’t try to finish his sentence, didn’t look away in discomfort. She just waited until he got the words out. No one else besides his family had ever made him feel like he was more than just an awkward, stammering jock.
Which made it that much more of a betrayal when he’d discovered her lie a month ago. And that’s what it felt like. A lie.
His wife had been faking it in bed their entire marriage.
“Did she say that?” Del asked. “Or did she say she thinks it’s time to think about divorce?”
“What’s the fucking difference?”
“One means she’s definitely done with you. The other means you might still have a chance.”
Gavin rolled his head against the wall in sloppy disagreement. “There’s no chance. You didn’t hear her voice. It was like talking to a stranger.”
Del stood and towered over him. “Do you want to fight for your marriage?”
“Yes.” Jesus, yes. More than anything. And shit, now his throat was closing again.
“What are you willing to do?”
“Anything.”
“Do you mean that?”
“W-w-what the fuck? Of course I mean it.”
“Good.” Del offered his hand. “Then come on.”
Gavin let Del pull him to his feet and then followed him back into the main room. His body felt as though it weighed a thousand pounds as he stumbled toward the couch and collapsed onto the cushions.
“Nice place you got here, Scott,” Mack said, emerging from the kitchenette area. He polished a green apple on his shoulder and then took a large, loud bite.
“That’s mine,” Gavin grumbled.
“You weren’t eating it.”
“I was going to eat it.”
“Sure. Right after you reached the bottom of that bottle.”
Gavin flipped him off.
“Knock it off,” Del ordered Mack. “We’ve all been where he is.”
Wait. What? What the hell did that mean?
Yan claimed the seat on the opposite end of the couch and clunked his cowboy boots onto the coffee table. Mack leaned against the wall.
Del looked at them both. “What do you guys think?”
Mack took another bite and spoke with his mouth full. “I don’t know. You really think he can handle it?”
Gavin dragged his hand down his face. He felt like he’d walked into the middle of a movie. A crappy one. “Can someone please explain to me wh-what’s going on?”
Del crossed his arms. “We’re going to save your marriage.”
Gavin snorted, but the three pairs of eyes looking back at him were serious. He groaned. “I’m screwed.”
“You said you were willing to do anything to get Thea back,” Del said.
“Yes,” Gavin mumbled.
“Then I need you to be honest.”
Gavin tensed. Del lowered himself onto the coffee table. It protested under his six-four frame.
“Tell us what happened.”
“I told you. She said—”
“I don’t mean tonight. What happened?”
Gavin darted a glance at all three men. Even if Yan and Eating-His-Apple-Mack weren’t there, Gavin wouldn’t talk about that. It was too humiliating. It would be bad enough to admit that he couldn’t satisfy his own wife in bed, but to also have to own up to the special kind of dumbfuckery that made him freak out, move into the guest room, punish his wife with the silent treatment, and refuse to hear her explanations because his ego was too fucking fragile to handle it? Yeah, no. He’d keep that to himself, thank you very much.