Page 37 of Finding Alexei
Fuck.
I scrub my hands through my hair.
Space. She needs space. Fine.
I’ll be leaving in a few days for Miami, but I need to see them first. Need to look into her eyes and find out why the sudden change. As far as I know, I never made her feel unwelcome. I tried to be helpful and do what was right, just like how I was raised.
Can we meet for breakfast tomorrow?
Ryleigh doesn’t respond right away, and I wonder if she’ll deny me even that.
I sink into the couch cushion and push my hands into my hair.
Fuck it.
I’m definitely getting drunk tonight.
I text a couple of my buddies from the team, knowing I’ll need a distraction tonight to avoid putting my fist through a wall. Already, my apartment feels empty and way too quiet.
• • •
A while later, Weston and Colin are planted on my couch, fighting over some stupid video game, but it’s better than being alone right now. A half dozen empty beer bottles are scattered across my coffee table, along with a couple of empty pizza boxes.
“You really that torn up over this girl?” Weston asks.
I give him the side-eye, and Colin breaks into laughter.
“Damn, dude. If looks could kill . . .”
I gave them the gist of what happened when they arrived, but only the basic details.
Weston holds up one hand. “Hey, man, I was just asking. It’s not like you never hassled me about my relationship with Jane.”
That much is true. I didn’t believe he was capable of settling down into a monogamous relationship. He’d just had his heart broken by some chick, and Jane was . . . well, Jane. She’s as serious as they come. And she’s a close friend. I didn’t want him fucking up and breaking her heart when he was just intending to blow off steam.
Thankfully, Weston knew enough to know that Jane wasn’t some jersey chaser. She was the real deal, someone you could easily settle down with and share a life with. In fact, when I first met her, I kinda wondered if we’d cross over from friends territory into something more. But we never had that chemistry. I’ve always viewed her as only a friend.
I shake my head, clearing my thoughts, and realize Weston is still talking.
“You met her, what, a couple of weeks ago?”
I shrug. “Doesn’t matter. I can’t help how I felt. How I feel.”
He’s right that I haven’t known her long, but we spent nearly all our time together, living together from day one. It probably forced us to grow closer than we would have otherwise. I know that she sleeps curled on her side, how she likes her coffee, that she likes to sing in the kitchen while she cooks. I know what her body feels like moving alongside mine, and how she becomes incapable of returning my kisses when she comes—her soft mouth parting while I nibble her lips with kisses as her toes curl.
“Fuck.” I shove my hands into my hair. This isn’t helping anything. “I need to be drunk. Right now.”
Colin frowns and passes me the half-empty bottle of whiskey sitting on the table beside him.
“Sucks, dude,” he says in consolation.
“Yeah.” I bring the bottle to my mouth and take a long swig. I’m the only one drinking out of it anyway, why bother with a glass? My entire attitude tonight is basically fuck everyone, fuck everything. I’m trying to put on a brave front and not lose it in front of the guys, but the truth is, I’m so fucking close to the edge right now.
Maybe if I understood why Ryleigh left, what I did wrong . . . Maybe. Actually, scratch that, that probably wouldn’t matter. I want her back. Her and Ella.
I know there’s a lot of shit to work out, and yeah, it’s nuts that Ryleigh’s roommate just took off, but still. I liked being there for them, feeling useful, seeing the way she looked at me. It was different from the usual hero worship I get on the field. Ryleigh appreciated me for me. Who I am at my core. The fact that I grew up with sisters and know about babies. She liked feeding me, and never let me get away with anything. She held her own, and I really like that about her.
“So, what’s the game plan?” Weston asks, a look of pity crossing his rugged features.
I squint at him. “Do you even fucking shave anymore? Just because you got engaged, dude—” I don’t get to finish that statement before a throw pillow comes sailing past my head.
“Fuck you,” he mutters.
I raise the bottle of whiskey. “I’ll drink to that.”
Colin grabs the bottle from my hand and recaps it. “Enough of that. You’ll be fucking useless tomorrow.”
He’s right. We have practice in the morning. None of us should be drinking, but I appreciate the fact that they’re here for me.
