Chapter 11

The text message illuminates my screen, bringing a smile to my lips.

Gabriella

Did I look perfect when I was puking like an exorcist the night we met?

Me

Your legs did in those sexy heels you were wearing.

Gabriella

This conversation is officially over. See you tonight, neighbor.

I had all day to kill, desperately watching the time until I could pick Gabriella up.

Each minute passed slowly and painfully, a gentle reminder of how, for the first time in my life, something else has stolen my focus besides soccer.

After a long shower trying to cure the ache down below which only got worse after our run, I see her text on my phone screen, again. She begged me to tell her why the bikini, but I left her hanging.

It’s typical of Gabriella to be so curious and impatient, something I have learned about her over the past few days. The more time I spend with her, the more she begins to unravel.

Seb knows I’m anxious, and despite our earlier run, he suggests we go train and hit the gym afterward.

We grab a ball and hit a nearby field where we practice shots. Neither one of us is fit to play professionally anymore, but it doesn’t mean it leaves your blood. Soccer is instilled in me. You live it, you breathe it, and without it, the struggle can easily become life-threatening.

“I keep telling you, mate, we could use a trainer like you. You’re as disciplined as you can get, which would be very beneficial to some of those kids.”

Seb has been working with some kids on scholarships at UCLA. Between coaching, toying around with recycled art, plus also being a father, he seems content, a far cry from where I am in my life.

I’ve been offered other opportunities, similar to Seb, but he’s a born teacher and has patience for kids. For him, there was no changing the fact that his torn ACL hindered his professional capabilities. It took him a lot of soul searching, plus reuniting with Lana and starting a family, to realize all hope was not lost. He still follows his passion, just in a different lane.

The yearn to play is still fresh inside me. It consumes me when I wake, follows me throughout the day, and when I lay in bed each night, I imagine being back on the field, the roaring crowd surrounding me, the ball at my feet.

Ma and Pa always ingrained the importance of fighting until the very end, Pa especially. When he was a teen, he was this close to playing professional football. But a small injury and a father who pushed him into the farming business saw him give up his dream.

From a very early age, he encouraged me to follow what my heart yearned for. He told me he would support and me all the tools I needed, and not once has he ever not stayed true to his word.

My parents often called me stubborn and arrogant, but I knew I was born to play soccer. I just needed to find a way to repair the damage to my body, so I could get the all-clear to play again.

The ball bounces near my foot, a fierce kick, and its gone mid left.

Fuck.

My game is incredibly off.

“I’m waiting for a call from my specialist. I have an appointment tomorrow, so we’ll see what he says.”

Aside from escaping the unwanted media attention back home, a reason for me coming here is to meet with the world’s top shoulder surgeons. It came at a hefty price, but I’m willing to do or pay anything to be able to play again.

After the accident, I spent months in a very dark place. My parents were worried I was suicidal, refusing to talk to anyone and isolating myself in my apartment. To reassure them I would not take any drastic measures to end my life, I began to see a trauma counselor.

She helped me work through the initial trauma of the accident, then I accidentally fucked her. We both agreed it was one time, would never be spoken about again for the risk of losing her practicing license, and I would end my working relationship with her and find someone else.

Look, it was a nice fuck on her expensive leather lounge and the boost of confidence I needed at the time. Talk about stroking the ego—she did that nicely.

However, getting on a plane to fly across the world for what is not a guaranteed fix may seem ludicrous to some.

But it is the only chance I have left.

One last attempt to repair the damage.

Seb rests his hand on my shoulder. “Look, I know it’s the hardest thing in the world to give up what you’ve worked your whole life for. I wanna be positive for you, but mate, your accident was life-threatening. You’re lucky to be alive, let alone play again. You gotta take that win.”

Distracted by my phone pinging, I guzzle some water and quickly read the text from Gabriella. I had to laugh, egging her on until Seb demands I put the phone down and focus on my game, not pussy.

Back at the house, I freshen up and pack my bag before chilling on the sofa where Lana is trying to change Ace. The kid has the same energy as Seb, unable to sit still for even a moment.

“It’s like wrestling with a goddam worm,” she complains, frustrated.

I grab a toy, propping it above him and making a monster sound until he lays still so Lana can change him.

“You’re so patient with him,” she says, falling back onto the sofa as he climbs on top of me. “You sure you don’t want a job as a manny?”

Ace jumps on me, almost squashing my nuts as he begs for more monster sounds. I entertain him, tickling his sides before he runs away to hide under the coffee table.

“I’ve got two sisters, and the youngest is twelve years my junior. Ma and Pa worked on the farm a lot her first year, so I took care of her after school. It’s been a while, though.”

“You’ll make a good dad. Speaking of which, how are things with, um… Gabriella?”

“Nice segue from Daddy’s duties to Gabs.”

She grins proudly. “Thought it was smooth.”

“She’s a cool chick. A bit high-strung, but yeah, we have fun.”

“Oh… you have fun?”

“Yeah, we have fun.”

“Like fun, fun?”

“More like just fun. No fun, fun.” I set the record straight.

I’d be stupid to assume Lana and Gabriella don’t share stories, so exaggerating fun could have landed me in hot water.

“Anyway, she’s with Prince Charming, right?”

If anyone knows the truth, it will be Lana.

This could be a chance to get some information Gabriella is no doubt holding back, but I have to play it smoothly by asking the questions yet appear uninterested at the same time.

“Not technically. I don’t know the details… it’s hazy. She’s engaged, or at least for all intents and purposes, she’s on a break. Whatever that means.”

“Exactly, what does that mean, Lana?”

“It means she’s not sure if marrying him is where she pictured her life, hence, why she’s here.” Lana grabs the remote, changing the channel to something more adult than Mickey Mouse. “As for the black and white regarding how much of a break and what it means, or if they can see other people since I assume that’s what you’re trying to get out of me, you’ll have to ask her.”

Damn.Lana is useless.

I almost express my disappointment but carry on and wait until seven o’clock before I say goodbye and head next door.

Exactly at seven on the dot, I knock on Gabriella’s door. She opens quickly, dressed in a white sundress with navy-blue polka dots. I’m mesmerized by how damn gorgeous she looks in a slight pose looking all innocent like she isn’t going to break me.

“Am I dressed all right for the secret squirrel date we’re on?”

“Perfect.” I beam, elated she’s called it a date.

We walk toward the car, her bag draped over her shoulder before she settles into the passenger side.

“Nice wheels. Is this yours?”

I want to tell her that nothing here is permanent. Home is back in Australia. Everything I have here has an expiry date including this car.

“A rental. Always wanted a Jeep.”

“Me too.” She laughs, buckling her seat belt. “My father would never allow me to drive such a car. If it isn’t part of the Rolls Royce family, then it’s not worthy to be driven by a Carmichael.”

“You have a Rolls Royce?” I laugh at the sheer notion of Gabs driving such a car. “Do you also wear white gloves when driving?”

She punches my shoulder, soft yet affectionate. “Don’t mock. It’s a smooth ride. Besides, what do you drive back home?”

“A Jag, and my… bike…” I trail off, remembering I no longer ride since the accident.

Gabriella places her hand on my shoulder, massaging it softly, knowing it’s a sensitive topic. I force a smile, placing my hands on the steering wheel as the engine starts. The stereo plays Maroon 5 blaring over the speakers from my last ride. Turning the volume down to an appropriate level, I sing along, ignoring her persistent stare coupled with an amusing grin.

“Olly can sing.” She nods, surprised.

“There you go, calling me Olly again.”

She’s cute when she’s relaxed and not a stuck-up princess, like when I first met her. The song ends, and instantly, she grabs my phone, scrolling through my playlist to pick a song.

“Um… since when do you just go through my phone? I have to see you naked before you get that privilege.”

“Why, you got nudes in here?” she questions, casually. “The ladies sending Mr. Big Shot Soccer Player some tits and ass pics?

“More like pussy and leg shots.” She almost drops my phone to the floor. “Relax, Gabs. I’m a good boy.”

“Good boys are the worst. They’re the hungriest because they deprive themselves, which is unnatural of the male species.”

“I could say the same for good girls. However, something tells me you’re a wild one, but you’re in the closet.”

“Me? Please, I’m boring. The wildest place I ever had sex was in college with this guy I was seeing. Janitor’s closet after a drunken frat party. The last time I completely lost control.”

“Until the night at the bar.”

“Yeah, something like that,” she mumbles, turning to face the side window.

“So, Prince Charming doesn’t get you off?”

She’s quick to focus back on me.

“You know, you are obsessed with Prince Charming. You want me to hook you up with him? I’m not sure he’s into the beard thing you’ve got going on, but you could get some with your body.”

I haven’t shaved in one day, and she’s throwing the word ‘beard’ around like I’m some sort of Bigfoot ape. I did, however, appreciate the sentiment about my body. It’s nice to know she’s admiring it, even if it kills her to admit it.

“So, you like my body?”

“Um… ex-cuuse me?” she stutters, quick to compose herself. “Way to switch topics.”

“It’s not a switch of topics,” I state, matter-of-factly. “Obviously, Prince Charming doesn’t do it for you, or you’d be legs spread in front of him and not in a car going to an unknown place with me. As for my body, I’ll accept the compliment. I train hard. Otherwise, I’d be just like good ol’ Santa with a beer gut.”

“You know what you are?”

“What?”

“A jerk.”

I break out into a wide grin, watching her from the corner of my eye. “Uh-huh?—”

“For assuming Prince Charming is not exciting in the bedroom. You know what happens when you assume?”

“You hit the nail on the head?”

“Wh… what does that mean?”

“I hit the truth.”

“No more talking.” She cranks up the stereo as Usher plays, enough so I sing along knowing I’m completely right. Prince Charming most likely has a small dick. Pompous boys like him usually do and compensate by throwing money around. If she were satisfied like I could satisfy her, she wouldn’t have requested a break. If she were with me, she’d be begging for more.

Cue the cocky reminder. Your dick ain’t gonna calm down anytime soon.

We pull up to Rancho Palos Verdes. The resort is situated on a private peninsula known for its relaxing spa and resort facilities. I’d read about it online, seen the spectacular pictures, yet wasn’t keen on coming by myself.

The concierge opens our doors and guides us toward the main reception. Behind the counter, an older lady directs Gabriella to the ladies’ room, then offers me directions to the male change rooms.

I quickly dump my stuff in the locker, eager to head back to the enclosed spa area. When researching this place, I made sure the place was intimate but not to the point where Gabriella would feel uncomfortable.

The spa is hot, steaming into the warm summer air. Upon stepping in, I instantly find myself relaxing until she’s standing before me wearing a white robe.

“Well, what are you waiting for… the apocalypse?”

With reluctance, she removes the robe, wearing only a yellow bikini. I’m certain my mouth has dropped open, drool dripping down the side as I take in her body.

Every single curve is gorgeous, and despite the overbearing heat, I have to tame the wild boy beneath my shorts.

She steps in, her face relaxing as her body sinks into the water. Her facial expression is priceless—content and at peace. I’m satisfied she won’t criticize me for my choice to bring her here.

“Oh, wow, this feels amazing.”

“It’s how we normally would unwind after a game. Much more enjoyable with you than a bunch of blokes, though.” She sits on the opposite side from me, keeping her distance. “This is the best way to avoid the soreness you’re going to feel tomorrow. Champagne?”

“Really, champagne helps?”

“No, but they threw it in.”

She downs a glass, closing her eyes as I sit across from her watching intently. Gabriella has an understated beauty. Perhaps it’s because she’s so disarmingly unaware of her prettiness. Her skin is completely flawless, shy a few freckles scattered across her cheekbones. When she smiles, her whole face lights up, just as it is right now.

“You do this often?” she asks, closing her eyes briefly.

“I did… back home.”

“With your girlfriend, Bianca?”

I’m taken aback by the mention of her name. I don’t recall mentioning her unless Seb has said something.

“How do you know about Bianca?” I ask with a reigning curiosity. “Let me guess, Sebastian?”

“Google.” She coughs, covering her mouth.

“You googled me?”

“In my defense, I had to make sure who I was jumping into a car with before I decided whether you were a serial murderer.”

“And what did you find?”

She stares at me, softening. “The um… accident.”

It was bound to come up. I couldn’t run forever, even though I tried to every moment I was awake. Perhaps I should have been honest from the beginning, eliminating her curiosity to avoid tense moments like this. Seb warned me, but I was stubborn and refused to listen.

There will be a time and place, and now is not that time.

“I’m sorry, Oliver,” she says in a flat, monotoned voice. “It must have been awful.”

“It was.”

“You can talk about it. I mean, I’m half naked with you in a spa,” she offers with a friendly smile. “If that counts for anything, you can trust me.”

“I’m just not ready.”

“Okay…”

She almost looks hurt, but she doesn’t understand the pain which followed. It held me hostage, tormenting me, watching me suffer relentlessly. This doesn’t feel like the moment to relive every sordid detail of falling off the bike and seeing death seconds away.

“How does the water feel?”

“I haven’t felt this good in a long time,” she admits, a satisfied gleam in her eyes. “I don’t even remember the last time I went to one of these places. Probably with my mother and sisters, some sort of girls’ day out.”

“You have sisters?”

“Two. Both older. Clara and Antoinette.”

“You guys close?”

She laughs as if I just threw around a joke.

“By close, do you mean I’m constantly ridiculed for my life choices?” She pulls out her hair, letting it fall against her wet skin. “Let’s see, why would a girl want to go to college when Daddy could marry you off to a senator? After they caused a stink about having to attend three years of college, my father almost didn’t bother with me. But no, I demanded he send me. He agreed, only so he could tell people his daughter was good enough to get into an Ivy League school.”

“Why do you let him control you? You’re what… twenty-four?”

She nods, swishing her hands against the water. “Turning twenty-five soon. I can’t explain it. My family is very influential, and my father gets his way. If I disobey him, I’ll be cut off by the family.”

“C’mon, surely it’s an empty threat. No parent would do that.”

She shakes her head, her expression downturned. A dark cloud hovers above her, shadowing the beautiful sunshine which graced me only moments ago.

“You don’t know him. He will do everything in his power to get his way. This time away from everyone, I had to literally beg for it.”

All I hear is the voice of someone scared to follow their own path. It seems unfathomable that a family could disown their own daughter over a choice to marry someone she didn’t love. Unless, of course, she does love him.

Fuck, don’t go there.

“It sounds to me like you’re scared of being alone. Leave that life, get a job, and follow your passions like everyone else. Stand on your own feet. Honestly, it ain’t that hard.”

With a dismissive glance, she looks at me as if I’ve said pigs could fly. “Easy for you to say, you have a family who supports you. They moved cities to follow your dream. My dream doesn’t exist. My father will make sure of that.” Her voice wavers, and I can see she’s lost, trapped by the power of a man who, in my opinion, doesn’t respect his own daughter.

I was too harsh, and now I feel like the biggest dick.

I move forward, bridging the gap between us, cupping her cheek in my hand. I want to reach in and tell her it isn’t hopeless, but she won’t believe me. Her eyes stare back at me with bewilderment, allowing me to touch her skin.

“You are worthy of living your own life,” I whisper, my voice clouded by the steam rising from the water. “Don’t let anyone else live it but you.”

“But I don’t know how to follow my dreams.”

I grab her hand, placing it against her chest, watching the water cascade down her heated skin. “You follow what’s in here. What does it tell you?”

Staring into her eyes, she’s only inches away from my lips. I want to kiss her, beg her to unleash on me, but I know there are cameras everywhere, so I begin to pull away slowly, waiting for her response.

“It tells me we need to get out because my skin looks like a prune,” she says, then shifts her gaze to meet mine. “And nothing good will come from being drunk with you in this spa.”

It’s the most honest thing she’s said all night.

Despite my reluctance to pull away at this moment, I have to respect her decision. I owe her at least that since no one else will.

We get changed, separately, and head back to the car.

The ride home is quiet. We listen to music and open the windows to let the cool night air inside.

When I park the car out front and walk her through the gate, she says goodnight until I call her name from the bottom of the steps.

She turns around, watching me with her curly hair falling past her shoulders. I want to go inside, make sweet love to her, and promise her more than I should, considering the time we’ve spent together. But I don’t want to push that boundary, not when I am unsure of exactly which path to go down myself.

I am not sure of anything.

“I wasn’t meant to ride my bike that night, but arrogant me wouldn’t listen to my coach. I was above his direction when it came to after hours.” I clear my throat, closing my eyes. “The guy in the car, he blew three times over the limit. Ran a red light, and I had no chance.”

Gabriella doesn’t say a word, instead stands perfectly still and listens.

“I have nightmares every night, which is why I have insomnia. So, that’s i-it,” I stammer. “That’s it.” I didn’t know what else to say, baring my soul to her in a way I never have with anyone else. Not Ma or Pa or even my two-hundred-dollar-an-hour therapist.

Gabriella’s footsteps move toward me, stopping at the step just above where I’m standing. Her arms wrap around my neck, and there, under the moonlight, she holds onto me tight, the scent of her skin only inches away from my lips.

“I know that was hard,” she whispers against my ear, “But thank you, Olly. Thank you for trusting me enough to tell me how you’re feeling.”

I don’t want her to let go. Something forewarned me that opening up to her was more than getting something off my chest. I’m trusting her with my heart and soul.

A messy way to get incredibly hurt.