Page 19 of Risking the Pucking Defense

I don’t lose control. Ever. And I’m not about to start while I’m surrounded by colleagues.

While everyone is distracted, I slip out of the ballroom and head toward the bank of elevators that’ll take me to my room.

I refuse to think about the fact that I’m running away, just like Hayden was earlier.

As the elevator doors open, I glance over my shoulder, half expecting to see him watching me go. But there’s no one there.

No one has noticed my escape, and no one is going to try to stop me.

With that sobering realization, I step into the elevator and press the button for my floor.

As I walk inside my room and my eyes land on my small carry-on, I almost convince myself to pack up all my stuff, call an Uber, and just go home.

No one will notice if I’m not here in the morning.

But then I pass the bathroom, and the huge tub with the jets gives me pause.

It would be a damn shame to waste it.

Shutting my thoughts off, I try to relax.

It’s not something I do all that often. I prefer to keep busy; that way, I don’t risk slipping into my own head.

I run the bath, pour in the entire bottle of bubbles I find waiting for me on the side, strip out of my clothes, pull up an audiobook on my cell, and sink into the water.

It feels incredible, but I can’t settle, and I certainly can’t focus on the voices floating around the room, no matter how deep and sexy the male tone is.

Instead, my head spins with thoughts of what’s happening downstairs. I question my decision to sneak out, but worse than that, I think of the guy I left behind at that table.

Is he still sitting there alone?

“Shit,” I hiss, hating myself for being so selfish.

But it’s a bit late to do anything about it now; I’m lying naked in a bubble bath.

I force myself to lie there longer, but instead of my muscles loosening with the heat of the water and the scent of the essential oils floating through the air, my tension only grows.

Eventually, I can’t sit still any longer, and I pull the plug and climb out.

Happy to have a distraction, I take my time removing my makeup and doing my face care routine. I also braid my hair, which I rarely bother with.

My cell taunts me on the counter, calling to me to reach out and make sure that Hayden is okay. I hold off as long as I can, but by the time I’m dressed in sleep shorts and a tank, my legs tucked under the sheets and my laptop beside me ready to do some work, I can’t ignore it any longer.

Hailee: I’m sorry for bailing, I…

Hailee: I hope you’re doing okay.

“Ugh,” I groan, throwing my cell on the bed.

Why is this so hard?

I just want to check in, but he’s not okay, and it’s thoughtless to ask if he is. He didn’t enjoy today. There might have been times when he wore a smile, but it wasn’t genuine. He’s hurting so badly that nothing can erase that.

I remember it. Those early days where the grief is so strong it feels like it’s going to swallow you whole and will never let you go.

There isn’t anything anyone can say that will make it better. There isn’t anything they can do, either.

Everything feels utterly hopeless. Your life feels like it’s over, and yet, you’re the one who’s still here.