took a ton of effort, I lifted my head and met his gaze. His expression was completely serious, and goddamn, the tears in his eyes stung more than the ones in mine. His jaw worked, but I couldn’t tell if it was because he was pissed or because he had to work that hard to keep the tears back.
Devin swallowed. “Do you want me to go?”
I didn’t. It was the last thing I wanted. But if I was going to hold on to whatever sanity I still had, I couldn’t do that with him here.
So like the coward I was, I broke eye contact, and I nodded.
He was still for a moment. I was afraid he might argue. Even more afraid he wouldn’t, and that he’d just leave because I’d probably hurt him and pissed him off. Why the hell would he want to stay?
When he finally got up, he didn’t say a word. He probably didn’t even look at me.
He just…left.
As soon as the door shut behind him, I exhaled.
And then, alone in my silent condo, I cried, because I had no idea if I’d done the right thing or if I’d just made a huge mistake.
I just knew it fucking hurt.
Chapter 32
Devin
Why had I even bothered hoping Jase would be different from everyone else I’d dated?
This was the part where they always turned tail and ran, and I was an idiot for thinking it wouldn’t play out that way this time too.
In the elevator on the way down from Jase’s condo, I forced back tears of both hurt and anger. I’d had breakups before. I’d had disastrous splits—the kind where I wondered how we’d lasted as long as we had, and the kind that came out of left field and knocked me on my ass. I’d had the quieter ones that hurt because neither of us wanted to break up, but we’d sadly come to the conclusion that it was inevitable.
Out of all those breakups, I didn’t remember hurting as much as I did now.
Maybe because this was still fresh. Or because… I mean, how was I supposed to argue with a man on the verge of an actual panic attack after he’d told me that just being with me had driven him into an attack so bad he’d landed in the hospital? Clearly the prospect of being my boyfriend and just imagining dealing with Dallas long term was stressful enough to warrant a 911 call. Or maybe… I had no idea. I just knew that my chest physically hurt and I had to fight hard against the tears that wanted to break free.
No. Not here. Especially not when the elevator let me off and I was heading for my car. I really didn’t need someone to snatch a picture of me losing my shit in the parking garage below Jase’s condo. We’d managed to dodge a lot of media attention throughout this relationship. They’d sniffed around, but had mostly lost interest when Jase and Richard had casually told them we were just friends. We didn’t go out in public enough to get busted, so they’d gotten bored with us.
Please, God, can we keep that up now that it’s over?
Somehow, I kept myself together long enough to drive across town to my apartment. I made it into the elevator, up to my floor, and by some miracle, unlocked the door without dropping my keys.
Numbly, I walked into my apartment, tossed my wallet and keys on the table beside the door, and headed for the kitchen for… I didn’t know. A drink, maybe. Something.
As I crossed the living room, my gaze went to the walls of hockey memorabilia, and my heart stopped.
Staring at the poster of Jase, I swore into the silence. It wasn’t the sight of him that made that sick feeling rise in my throat right then. It wasn’t the reminder that posters and pictures and pucks were all I had left of what I’d thought was something real.
That poster belonged to Dallas.
So did a number of Jase Kelly jerseys.
“Aw, fuck,” I muttered into the stillness and dropped onto the couch. What was I supposed to do? Tell my daughter that Jase had left because he couldn’t cope with the prospect of being a stepparent? Because the medical roller coaster was too much for him? She’d think I was blaming her. She’d think she was the reason Jase—her sports idol and the man who’d become her friend—had vanished from our lives. That it was her fault—not mine