Page 73 of Roughing
“Rent’s outrageously expensive in Portland,” he said lamely.
I stabbed him with an indignant glare, and he wriggled like the insects I’d pinned to Styrofoam for my sixth-grade science project.
“You inserted yourself where you weren’t welcome and made assumptions about me. I don’t need a rescuer. I don’t need a white knight. What I need is a guy who treats me as an equal and sometimes a princess but doesn’t sneak around secretly doing things to protect me.”
“I was wrong. I apologize.” Briggs hung his head, and my heart bled for him. He wasn’t acting the way Gordon would’ve been. Briggs was genuinely sorry and properly chastised.
“It’s too late for apologies. How long were you going to keep this secret from me?”
“As long as necessary,” he admitted. At least the man was honest even though he knew he was digging himself in deeper.
“Briggs, I understand you were trying to help. You have to understand that I was under the thumb of a controlling man for too long. I lost my independence, my sense of self-worth, and my faith in myself. I cannot let anyone do that to me again. To make matters worse, I’ve stressed to you over and over that you need to trust me and open up to me. You’ve failed on both counts.”
Briggs nodded and didn’t offer more platitudes. He accepted what I was saying even if he didn’t like it. “So where do we go from here?”
“The real question is, do we go anywhere from here?”
His mouth dropped open, and he sat back as if I’d hit him. He looked away from me and swallowed hard. Oh my god, he wasn’t going to cry, was he? Not my big, strong Briggs. And if he did, would I have the courage to stick to my convictions?
I struggled with a compromise, a way to buy time because I wasn’t ready to end this yet either. If I were the woman I wanted to be, I would walk away and cut my losses, never looking back. I wasn’t that woman. I was still the weak female who made excuses, ignored red flags, and sold out my independence.
I straightened, gathered my convictions, and kicked my doubts to the curb. Somewhat. I wasn’t strong enough to cut him off completely. Not yet. But I’d do the next best thing and give myself time to consider my options.
Briggs watched expectantly. His gaze hooded, which was better than the tears I’d seen welling in his eyes earlier and made my half decision easier. I’d test him and see if he continued to interfere in my life or became a stalker like Gordon.
“I think we should take a break from each other for two weeks. At the end of two weeks, we’ll talk. I’d appreciate you respecting my request and not trying to contact me beforehand.”
Briggs shut down. His face turned to stone. His expression was unreadable, almost as if we were discussing what to have for dinner. He nodded and stood. I stayed in my chair.
“Okay, I understand.” He walked to the door, but before he opened it, he turned. He stared at me so long it was as though he was trying to remember everything about me in case he never saw me again. A lump clogged my throat, and now it was my turn to fight off tears.
“I’ve never said this to anyone before, but I love you, Michella.”
Leaving me to mull over his startling declaration, he let himself out and shut the door quietly behind him.
ChapterTwenty-Six
CLUELESS BASTARD WITH FRIENDS
~~Briggs~~
Iloved her?
Fuck, I didn’t mean to say that. It just happened. I’d never given those three words any thought prior to blurting them out. They surprised me as much as they did her. In retrospect, I’d spoken a truth I hadn’t known myself until I’d verbalized it.
I did love her. Damn it. I loved her. Michella was the love of my life. I might not deserve her, but I’d earn the privilege of being her boyfriend if she gave me the chance. That was a big if.
I did as Michella requested. I stayed away. Sometimes I had to exercise superhuman strength to prevent myself from contacting her. I was so pathetic I often hung out in the lobby, hoping to “accidentally” run into her. I never did. Remi no longer hung out there either, so I didn’t have a good excuse for loitering. About a week into the forced vacation from each other, I stopped doing even that, as Hal kept casting sympathetic looks my way. The last thing I wanted was anyone’s pity.
The team had won half of its games in the past week and started March with two out of two wins. We weren’t going to make the playoffs, but we were coming on stronger and learning what we might be capable of next year. I was playing a solid game, and Braden and I had developed a bit of chemistry. My original plan had been to restore my reputation as a good teammate and request a trade at the end of the season. When things had been going well with Michella, I’d reversed my direction, only to have her shoot me down. If it didn’t work out between us, I’d request that trade.
The second week of March, the team left on a five-game road trip back east. By that time, I was happy to get out of town and away from temptation. I’d respected her wishes even though it killed me. In fact, I died inside a little more every day. I finally understood how someone could die of a broken heart.
I didn’t let my depression affect my game; of that, I was proud. Being on the ice was the only relief I got from thoughts of Michella, and I jumped into it with both skate blades.
We’d won the first game of the road trip in Chicago last night and set another record—the first time the team had won three in a row. I had a goal and an assist. Tonight we were in Nashville and would play them tomorrow.
Two weeks had passed since Michella had asked for a little time, which had been her self-imposed deadline, yet I was on a road trip. She’d get another week to think about us, and I had another week to fret over our future together.
