Page 118 of Lessons in Heartbreak

Ruby:I’m sorry. I can’t come today. It’s...too much. It shouldn’t be, but it is, and I don’t know how to change that. Please don’t hate me.

The text from Ruby didn’t make my heart stop. Didn’t make my stomach sink. A smile spread over my face before I could stop it.

She loved me.

She fucking loved me, and it scared the absolute hell out of her.

I took the fastest shower known to man, then yanked on my clothes while my skin was still damp. As I left the locker room, I hit the screen to call her. While the phone rang endlessly in my ear, I jogged toward the exit. Why were the parking lots so fucking far away? The ringing stopped, and I swore under my breath while I waited for her voicemail to pick up.

“Ruby? It’s me. God, I don’t hate you. I could never fucking hate you, birdy.” I sucked in a breath, but it was almost impossible because my heart was racing so fast. “I’m coming to you. I just ... I need to see you. Please, don’t shut me out because you’re scared, sweetheart. I’m scared too. Just talk to me. I’ll be there as soon as I can, okay?”

I love you.

The words were on the tip of my tongue, but I swallowed them. She deserved so much more than a frantic voicemail to hear them from me for the first time. I hopped into my truck and cranked the engine on, fumbling with my seat belt as I threw the gear into reverse.

I eyed the clock, hoping I could get there in less than ninety minutes. I’d be there before dinner. We’d have all night.

I didn’t care if we didn’t kiss, if we didn’t have sex. I’d sit on that couch and do nothing more than hold her hand and be the happiest man in the universe.

It was that thought that had me distracted as I pulled the truck out onto the road, going too fast.

The blare of a car horn was what I heard first, and then the sickening crash of glass before everything went black.

Chapter Twenty-NineRuby

If there was any upside to an anxiety attack, it was that you got a hell of a nap afterward. The moment I yanked those covers over my head, I slept like the actual dead. If not for Bruiser nudging me in the shoulder blades hours later, then nosing around the covers to snuffle loudly against my ear, I might have slept the entire day.

“Bruiser,” I groaned. “Stop it.”

He shoved his nose into my ear, and I squealed, pulling away from him to tug the blanket tighter around my head. When he started nibbling on my arm through the blanket, I laughed helplessly, turning onto my back and flipping the comforter down so I could wrap my arms around his big, blocky head.

His body wiggled as he flopped onto his side and angled for belly rubs. I complied, burying my face into his neck while I scratched his stomach. For a few moments, I lay there and let the fog of sleep clear from my head.

I hadn’t napped like that in years, and there was no doubt it was the emotional drain from earlier in the day. The last time I’d had a panic attack was about four months after my surgery, and in the moment, I genuinely thought I’d die right there on the kitchen floor. It ended in an ER visit and a promise to my doctor that I’d start seeing a therapist.

I did, for a couple of years. And during that time, it helped me understand a lot. But it had been at least a year since I’d spoken to her.Might be time to schedule a session,I thought, playing with the frayed edge of Bruiser’s collar.

He wiggled on his back and I smiled, finally lifting my head to check the time. My eyes bugged out when I realized it was past dinnertime.

“No wonder you woke me up,” I said to Bruiser, sitting up and yawning loudly. “You’re hungry, aren’t you?”

His ears perked up when he heardhungry, and he bounded off the bed, scrambling through the house toward his food bowl. I left my room, ignoring my sleep-rumpled reflection in the mirror, and I filled his bowl with two scoops of kibble. The container of his food went back under the counter in the laundry room, and I glanced down at the jersey. The knot had fallen apart in my sleep, and even with the smaller size Lauren had picked, it fell down over my hips, nearly covering my shorts.

The thought of Griffin waiting at training camp made my stomach squeeze uncomfortably, and now that the cloud of my earlier meltdown had ebbed, I knew I needed to do a better job of apologizing. Of explaining.

I rubbed my temple and made my way back to the bedroom to change and check my phone. It was still sitting face up on the nightstand, and it lit up when I came into the room. My eyes narrowed when I saw the sheer number of missed calls. Voicemails. Texts.

All from Lauren, except one. At the very bottom of the mass of notifications was a missed call and a voicemail from Griffin. My heart clenched, and I almost tapped on it, but then I noticed the first few texts from Lauren—and the ground disappeared from beneath my feet.

I sank weakly to the bed as I scrolled through them, the most recent one coming in less than twenty minutes earlier.

Lauren:Ruby, call me,Now.

Lauren:Ruby! I’ve called you three times and I don’t know what the hell you’re doing but this is important.

Lauren:Okay, I left you a voicemail, but maybe you’re not checking those right now. Please call me, it’s an emergency.

Lauren:Griffin was in a car accident. I don’t know how bad it is. He’s at Centennial Hospital.

---