Chapter 40

Chapter Forty

DANE

I stare into her green eyes covered with a thick film of tears. Why the hell is she crying when she's breaking up with me? What a lame excuse… it's for our own good so we can accomplish our dreams or whatever shit she said. Why doesn't she understand I don't need basketball or be at the top of my class? I need her. She's all I need, and everything else is a bonus.

Making a fool of myself, I drop to my knees and beg, "Please don't, Lettie. I don't understand."

"You're the right guy at the wrong time," she says as she spins away, turning her back to me.

I snap back to my feet, grabbing her elbow and forcing her to look at me.. "I ruined you. You won't find anyone who can love you like I do. Go back to faking orgasms. Go back to drinking and hooking up. Is that what you want? Do it, Lettie. I dare you to play the fucking field. Because when you come back to me, you're taking a chance that I 'll be waiting."

The entire bottle of ginger can't settle my stomach. Anger consumes me, filling every part of my body. I can see in her eyes that she doesn't want this, and I have no idea why the sudden change of heart.

All she says is, "I know."

There are no more words that will change her mind. I storm out of the room, hitting my shoulder on the doorframe, but my feet can't carry me fast enough. I tumble out of her apartment, falling on the ground, emptying my stomach until there's nothing left.

Somehow, I manage to get up and propel myself into my car, beating my head on the steering wheel.

"How could she do this? To me? To us?" I yell. I drive around, not knowing what to do or where to go or who to talk to. Finally, I make it to The Stable and carry my sorry ass in.

"Look who's making the walk of shame," Nick says, laughing.

Instead of going upstairs to my apartment, I grab him by his hoodie. "Shut the fuck up before I shut you up."

"Damn, Cap. Let go of me." When I hold him for another second before flicking him away, he asks, "What's wrong?"

"Every. Fucking. Thing. Now leave me alone." And I take the stairs three at a time and slam my suite door behind me.

Sixteen yea rs of friendship, over. The last six weeks have been the best of my life. I should have known better. I did know better, which is why I kept my feelings hidden for so long.

Go back to being best friends. Pure fiction.

Is she serious? She must be living in a fantasy world.

I don't go to class. I miss practice, saying I'm sick and canceling all of my sponsorship duties and staying in my room for three days. Coach sends medical staff in. They tell him I'm dehydrated and weak. Me? Weak.

I stare at my phone for three days, just waiting for her to say she didn't mean it. To send me my morning text, but nothing comes. In fact, the last text is from me; she had never responded. I should have known something was wrong. She wasn't sick. She was sick of me.

My mom calls, hearing reports on socials that I'm sick. I tell her that Lettie broke up with me, and she seems as stunned as me. "Oh Dane, I'm so sorry. Just give her some space. She's on the verge of achieving a dream she never thought would happen. Maybe the new trainer is pressuring her for more time."

"Mom, I thought I was a great boyfriend. I don't know what I did wrong," I say, my voice braided with confusion and pain.

"I know you were, honey. But right now, I need you to focus on your game. Your teammates are depending on you. Get your butt out of bed and go to practice and class. Work out your frustrations on the basketball court," she advises, her voice firm. I take a deep breath, feeling a surge of m otivation at the thought of taking out my anger on the court. "You have an away game tomorrow, right?" my mom asks, and I can hear the determination in her voice.

"Yes, ma'am."

And then your dad and I will see you at the Opera House the day after," she adds, referring to an upcoming event we're all supposed to attend together. "Dane, that girl has loved you her whole life, and I don't think that changed in a day or two, unless you…"

"I would never cheat on her."

Mom takes a deep breath and releases it into the phone. "I know, but sometimes things happen. If it's your fault, man up and grovel."

"Mom, I didn't. She broke up with me because we're both slacking on everything, trying to steal a few hours here and there."

"Just give her some time. I know it hurts, but sometimes people need time apart to see how good they are together. Call me after practice, and I'll see you in a couple of days." The soft brush of her breath into the phone gives me some comfort but not near enough.

After we hang up, I take a shower, check my phone, and tap out, "I miss you." I look at it but don't hit send. Lettie has cut me open with a blade with the edges so sharp, it hurts to breathe.

Me: You home?

Reed: Dropping off Caleb at football practice. Home in ten.

Me: Coming over.

It's odd that he didn't ask what's up. My guess is Lettie has told them but if that's the case, why hasn't he called to check on me? I worry as I park in front of his house and wait for him to pull into the driveway.

"What do I owe the pleasure?" he asks, grinning.

"Caleb chose football, huh?" I ask.

He pushes up his long-sleeve Stallions Hockey shirt, and he unlocks the door. "Yeah, I have to admit, he looks adorable in the pads. But this is a four-week league for them to run around. He'll start hockey in December. Come in."

Reed throws his keys in a bowl that has Caleb's handprints painted in royal blue. "So, what's up? I heard you've been sick. Did you have what Lettie had?"

"Have you or Brooke seen her?"

I follow him into the kitchen. He opens the fridge. "Beer, water, or milk?"

"Water."

He throws the bottle to me and answers, "She called Brooke and said she was sick and needed to go home for a few days."

"Hmm." Maybe she's reconsidering. Grans and Paps are probably giving her some small-town mountain advice.

"You didn 't know?" Then a moment of clarity hits him. "What happened?"

I explain that we had been stretching ourselves thin, and I had been canceling my contract obligations, narrowly getting to practice on time, among other things.

He listens and absorbs. "Last year, when you came close to dying in that fire, I saw firsthand how devastated she was that she couldn't carry you out of her apartment. Have you thought about how she lost everything she had and nearly lost you? How she withdrew from school? Is it possible that when you were a couple, it scared her at how much you depend on each other." He takes a drink. "Brooke has told me about Lettie's parents, so she doesn't know what a functional relationship looks like."

"Yeah, they suck ass. It's been years since they've made an appearance."

"I know a thing or two about bad parents. But I'm also the poster child that it can work out when it's the right girl at the right time."

I lean against the counter, processing. It does make sense, but why wouldn't she just tell me that instead of this bullshit of we're taking up too much time. We could do a schedule. Fuck, she loves schedules and telling me what to do. In the last two months of high school, there was a senior activity nearly every day. She made a calendar and coded it red with things we would do together; green was for her activities, and blue was mine. Then she hung it on the cork board in my bedroom. She was so proud of it, sitting on the edge of the bed, staring at it like it was an acceptance le tter to an Ivy League school.

Reed's sympathetic tone breaks through the trashing thoughts that make me want to beat my head against a wall. I turn to face him, trying to keep my emotions in check. "Anything I can do?" he asks, his hand reaching out to pat my back.

I shake my head, not sure if I can even handle talking about it yet. "I don't know if I can be just friends with her... not after everything that's happened. But maybe it's the only way I can have her in my life," I admit, my heart heavy with the pain of a fresh wound.

"When I was going through my shit last year, Brooke's dad said just keep the lines of communication open. It wasn't about Brooke and me, but it was about my dad."

"Yeah. I'll think about it. I just don't know if I can even look at her. I'm so damn angry and hurt." I nod, grateful for his advice, but still unsure if I can even be in the same room with Lettie right now. "I'll think about it."

Reed squeezes my shoulder in support. "Take your time, man. Just remember, you two were friends before anything else."

We end up watching Sports Channel for a brief time before I head to practice.

Practice sucks. I miss the basket more than I hit it. I hear my mom's voice, but I just can't make myself work hard or fucking care.

The next da y, we play Broadhurst University, our heated rival in an out of conference match.

Memories of the hockey teams fighting and them going after Reed is a topic of conversation. We want to beat them down, not tolerating the targeting of any Stallion, regardless of the sport.

But as I step onto the court, my body feels heavy and sluggish. My usual drive to the basket is lacking, and my defense is leaving shooters open more often than not. It's like my mind and body are stuck in a fog, unable to fully focus on the game.

After Coach Cappitano busts our asses for a despicable performance, and leaves, Nick says, "Call Lettie and figure your fucking shit out." He flicks his towel against the wall. My teammates grumble, but no one else says anything directly to me.

I sit by myself on the plane ride home, headphones in, listening to John Travolta and Olivia Newton John, just to feel Lettie's presence.

The bus is waiting by the tarmac to take us to campus, and it reminds me of how Lettie would be there, waving her arms and congratulating me on the win.

When I get back to The Stable, there are jersey chasers waiting outside, wanting to lick our wounds and make us feel better, and I think about it for a hot second. None of them will take the pain away. None of them are Lettie. I push through the crowd, and despite hands being all over me, I feel alone.

I strip dow n to my underwear and look at pictures of Lettie and me on my phone before we were a couple and once we were together. In both, the smiles and laughter are evident. Maybe I'll reach out and see if we can try again.

Me: Morning. I miss my best friend.

Those dreaded dots tell me she's seen my text and now is writing and deleting over and over.

Lettie: Morning. I miss you too.

Me: Are you still at Grans?

Lettie: No. How did you know?

Me: Reed.

Lettie: Oh, so that's why Brooke has left me fifteen messages.

Me: You should talk to your friends. Sometimes they say things we haven't thought of.

Lettie: I'm late for training.

Me: I miss my girlfriend

She doesn't respond.

My coaches have heard about Lettie and me breaking up. They don't approach me about it; I guess they're giving me the opportunity to work it out before they lay into me. Just get me out of here and onto the next thing on my sched ule. Honestly, I'm tired of it all.

My can is empty. I barely have the energy to shower and change for my dad's event at the Opera House. I feel the tension as I rush into my father's political event—late. My dad shoots me a disapproving look before pulling a political mask on. "Daisy's waiting."

"Waiting for what? Where's Mom?"

"She's not coming. Now go. You need to be seen and photographed together."

"Dad, I'm in no mood. The only thing I want to do is call Lettie." I give him a half-cocked smile. "She returned my messages this morning."

He clears his throat, straightening his tie. "Is that so? You need to focus on basketball. Don't push me. Now go. I told you I'm making her dad my chief of staff tonight."

He pushes me toward Daisy. Politely, I put my arm around her waist in front of the cameras with the Greathouse for US Senate logo behind us. Our fathers come on each side of us, taking more. Then out of nowhere, Daisy kisses my cheek.

Through gritted teeth, I whisper, "What the hell?" But she just smiles. I break from the group, and Dad pulls me into a small alcove. The red and gold carpet and the gold mirrors feels like I'm transported back in time. But I want to go back to two weeks ago.

"Dane, I said don't defy me, and you obviously aren't listening. Let Lettie live her life, or I'll take it from her."

"What's that supposed to mean?" I puff out my chest. We're near the same height, but I have muscle on him.

"It means, Lettie is a distraction you don't need right now. All of your focus should be on the NBA. If you start something up again, I'll pull her sponsorships."

I scoff, "You're unbelievable thinking you have that kind of power. She earned every one of her sponsors."

He laughs in my face. "Son, you're so na?ve. I pulled strings to get her sponsorships with bigger companies. All I have to do is make a call, and they'll drop her."

How could he be so heartless? I clench my fists at my sides as the anger festers inside me.

"Why would they do that when she has qualified for the Olympic Trials? You don't care about anyone but yourself, do you?" I ask, spitting out the words, unable to contain the hurt and frustration that my father would sink so low.

"I'm fucking Gregg Greathouse. Soon, I will be responsible for regulations that affect the prices of everything they need to turn a profit, from feed to leather, to imported goods to the venues where they hold their competitions." His brows draw to the center with a stone-cold calculating smile creeping onto his face. "In this world, you do what has to be done."

Hostility rises between us, but I can't let him have his way. Not when it comes to the girl I've loved my whole life. I step into his personal space, my voice shaking with emotion. "You think you can just manipulate and control people to get what you want? It makes perfect sense you being a politician, hungry for power. Well, not this time. I w on't let you ruin her dreams."

Wait. Did my dad talk to Lettie? Is that why she broke up with me?

Before I can ask, he says, "You're right. You won't let me because you'll let Lettie go, for now. You won't jeopardize her reaching the goals she's worked so hard for. You're my priority, and I'll do whatever it takes to keep you on the path to greatness. This will result in both of you achieving your dreams."

"You did this! I can't stand the sight of you."

Storming out of the Opera House, I run blindly through the streets, ending up at a country bar. I order a beer and pull up my phone to see that Lettie has messaged me back twice from when I texted, I miss my girlfriend.

9:07am Lettie: Didn't know you had one?

8:40pm Lettie: I see that you do. Five days and you have a girlfriend.

Why am I hesitating to respond and ask what the fuck she's talking about? Down deep, I know I can't destroy Lettie's aspirations of becoming an Olympian. I should call Lettie and explain that she's the only one I love, but she's the one who broke up with me, so maybe as much as I hate to admit it, my father could be right.

Some girl named Piper comes up and asks for a selfie, puts her arm around me, and snaps the picture. Before long, I'm surrounded by girls who can't hold a candle to Lettie, but we're doing shots, and they take more pictures.

Reed and Ha gan show up. They separate the ladies and since they're handsome guys, the girls hit on them too. Great, I can't hold onto anyone.

"Eleven, it's time to go," Reed says, using my jersey number instead of my name. Guys do those things. Last names. Numbers.

"Do you know why my jersey number is eleven? My fucking father." I stumble, so Reed puts his arm under my arm, and they carry me out. Hagan assists on the other side. "He doesn't deserve for me to wear his number.

"Why did Lettie break up with me? Tell me you bastards," I slur as my head drops into my chest, which hurts so fucking bad. The two people I love most in the world betrayed me.

The last thing I remember is Hagan saying, "This isn't the way to win her back."