Page 108 of On the Ropes
I’d never seen him stand so still, like he was receding into himself. The past two weeks, I’d witnessed the careful unfurling of this man’s confidence—his smiles coming easily, his limbs loosened, his dry humor and warm affection for the ones he loved. Now he stood straight as a soldier, and I wondered why this meeting had the opposite effect of what working on the park had done.
It was like Dean had an on/off switch like my mother, an observation that had me wanting to retreat like I had so many times as a kid.
“It’s a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity, Tabitha,” he added. “Most athletes can only dream of retiring and ending up making better money by sitting behind a desk.”
“That’s true,” I admitted. And it was. Yet that first morning we’d spent in bed together came back in a rush I couldn’t ignore, how my heart had ached as he’d categorized his injuries one by one. All these fans, all these analysts…In their minds, it was like I gave up more than they could understand. But it wasn’t for them to understand. It wasn’t their health and memory to lose. “I imagine it wasn’t an easy decision to make.”
“No,” he said softly. “And leaving won’t be either.”
For the first time since Harry’s phone call interrupted us, his words held the same level of yearning currently coursing through my own veins.
“It’s certainly harder this time for me,” I said, surprised when the words came out in barely a whisper. “I feel completely at fault here, Dean.”
He re-squared his shoulders.
“Usually”—I’m not, you know, falling in love with my temporary fling—“I’m very serious about being honest with the person I’m having sex with. Setting clear boundaries is important to me. Especially with a friend. A friend like you. Now I’m leaving tomorrow, and we’ve had zero conversations about being on the same page.”
He hesitated, eyes searching mine until he seemed satisfied by whatever he found there. “Why would you be at fault? I knew what your deal was. You told me. No attachments, only fun.” A heavy, fractured pause followed. “And that’s what the two of us had. Worked hard, played hard. Right?”
I studied him, assessing the cracks in his armor. I, again, had no right to feel frustrated in this moment—I had my own protections guarding my heart. They just appeared in the form of silly flirting and funny jokes. His face was so impassive though. I would have said his nonchalance was a lie, but he wasn’t the lying type.
“Right,” I said, drawing out the word.
“So we’re good, then?” he asked.
All of those badminton-playing butterflies, hammering around in my chest, up and died. This whole thing was like some karmic retribution for the dozens of times I’d been the Dean in the situation. The person maintaining their cool while ending a relationship meant to be casual that was so clearly not casual to the other party.
Except I had seen the pain and hurt on his face this morning when I was talking about going to Austin, hadn’t I? It had been so naked and raw my sternum throbbed like I’d taken a combat boot to it.
That wasn’t nonchalance.
My usual boasting about casual sex and hot summer flings seemed so pointless when I’d gone ahead and done exactly what my mother did every time. I’d been pretending to my family for so long, I must have gotten too comfortable with it. I’d clearly just pretended my way out of a friendship and relationship that meant more to me than I’d ever known was possible. I’d hit my own switch out of cowardice and had hurt a kind man with the biggest heart.
“We’re good,” I forced out. “I did have a lot of fun, and I’m glad we spent the past couple weeks together. Your friendship will always mean a lot to me, Dean.”
His fingers fluttered by his sides for all of a second before going still. “I feel the same way. Have always felt that way.” Then he cleared his throat and opened the door. “What time is your flight tomorrow?”
“Late,” I said. “After dinner. I’m heading over to Alexis’s house tonight for a big Tyler family sleepover. But in between that and tomorrow, I’ll be here, working on pocket park stuff.” A rising swell of emotion threatened to bring tears when I was desperate to stay in control during this conversation. No matter what happened, I’d never be able to think about this tiny lot without thinking of the two of us doing it together. Every single step—from that first morning picking up trash to planting flowers with our fingers embracing in the dirt.
A line formed between his brows. “Okay. I’m sure I’ll see you before you leave, then.”
“Absolutely,” I said cheerfully, even as tears wanted to spill.
His lips twitched at the end. “Or maybe I’ll even see you out in Vegas sometime.” Then he left and shut the door behind him.
I wrapped my arms around a pillow covered in the logos of every Philly sports team, pressing the edge of my palm under my eyes as I cried for the first time in years. My heart had known all along—the newly opened one with a clumsy ballerina’s penchant for falling. I’d been in love with Dean this entire time.
I’d only hurt him in the end.
