Page 102 of Backslide
Avery? I hate her instantly.
“What was the deal with… Avery?”
“The deal?” He pauses to look up at the ceiling and consider what comes next. I try not to stare at the way the dim lighting casts shadows across his face, accenting his cheekbones and strong chin.Damn. Why does he have to look like that? “She’s a d-girl—like a development exec at a studio,” he starts. “One of the guys on the team—his wife—introduced us at a pool party.”
“Be honest: Did you meet in the pool? Or the hot tub?” I gasp. “Wait! Do you seduce all your women in water?”
“Um. First of all, no. She didn’t even swim that day.”
Of course. I roll my eyes.
“Second, I did not seduce you.”
“What would you call it?”
“Mutual. At least, I hope?”
He is asking and so, against my will, I nod. Yes. Fine. If I must.Mutual.
Probably he is being generous. I’m the one who would have let it play out, let the chips—and his hands—fall where they may.
The memory of it ricochets through me. I cross my legs and will it away.
“Anyway, she was smart and from the East Coast and,yes, she could really cook,” he says.
I was with him for the first two.
“So, what happened?”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, it obviously didn’t work out,” I say, sweeping my arm around the general space to indicate that she’s not here. No Avery in the cabinet or under the chair. “So why did it end?”
“Honestly,” he says, scratching his temple. “It’s kind of hard to explain.”
“Did she hate that you travel a lot?”
“Oh,” he says, surprised. “I don’t.”
“You don’t travel with the team? I just assumed.” Now, I’m surprised.
“I mean, occasionally, but mostly I’m on the ground for home games. And a couple of times a week, I’ll head to the training room the day before or after a game. Or my partner in my practice will. But most of the time, I just see patients at our office.”
Interesting. Then maybe not so much a girl in every port—or airport lounge.
“Anyway, it’s not that anything was wrong per se, which is part of what made it hard to end it. It was time to commit for real or move on and… it just didn’t feel right.”
Suddenly, I feel defensive on Avery’s behalf, outrage rising in my chest. “So, what? You just dumped her after she wasted all this time on you? Ghosted her? Cheated?”
Like you did me.
I don’t say the words, but they hang between us all the same.
“No,” he says firmly. “It wasn’t like that. I wanted to feel the way I was supposed to—but I couldn’t. I told her upfront, a few months before the end. We went to therapy, but I just couldn’t get there.”
I nod, quieted. Remind myself he’s not eighteen-year-old Noah. He is not the same.
“Honestly,” he continues, “this has happened over and over with me. There’s nothing wrong on paper. There’s just something… missing. I don’t know. Maybe my expectations are too high.”
