Page 134 of Playing to Win
“Yep. It’s all your fault, Townsend. And now we’ve lost her. God, it’s so unfair.” Gwen curls her hands into fists, pulling out of Eric’s embrace, and I swear for a second I think she’s going to lunge for me. “You have to make this right.”
“How?” I ask incredulously, wishing I had my phone so I could call Ruby. But it’s in my backpack back in the locker room.
“I don’t know. Go talk to Marilee,” Gwen retorts.
“Gwen, calm down. There’s nothing he can do. The policy was already in place and Ruby broke it,” Eric says, sounding completely logical.
“This is such bullshit.” Gwen glares at me, jabbing her index finger in my direction. “I hope it was worth it. You better not dump her after this. I don’t know if she’ll be able to survive it.”
“We need to go,” Eric says to Gwen firmly, sending me a sympathetic glance. “We’ll talk to you later, Ace.”
He steers his girlfriend in the opposite direction and I watch them walk away, my entire chest aching.
Gwen’s right. This is my fault. I shouldn’t have slapped Ruby’s ass on the sidelines during a game. What the hell was I thinking? How could I be so careless? I don’t even want to check all the stuff I’m tagged in now. It’s probably that ass slap on an endless loop accompanied by all sorts of rumors and lies. No one knows what Ruby and I have beyond us.
Launching into action, I run toward the locker room, eager to get the fuck out of here and head to Ruby’s. She needs me right now.
And I need to be there for her.
* * *
I showup twenty minutes later on Ruby’s doorstep, furiously knocking on her door. I sent her a quick text asking if I could come over and she said sure, like it was no big deal. Like her life hadn’t just been completely altered by losing the job she loves so damn much, and I expect her to answer the door a tear-stained, red-eyed mess.
But when the door swings open, I swear she’s the prettiest I’ve ever seen her, clad in a pair of black joggers and a cropped fitted black T-shirt with gold lettering that says:
I was born fucking cool.
“Oh my God, you brought Taco Bell.” She reaches for the bag and snatches it from my hands, turning and heading for the kitchen table. “How did you know I was craving it?”
Blinking, I enter the apartment and close the door behind me, watching as she starts going through the bag. Looking for a chalupa, I’m sure. “You always crave the Bell when you’re upset.”
“Funny thing is, I’m not actually that upset.” She drops the still wrapped chalupa on the table, studying me. “Gwen told me you guys talked.”
“She’s mad at me.”
“She’s mad at the situation,” she stresses. “I don’t think she’s actually mad at you.”
I don’t bother arguing with Ruby. She didn’t see Gwen and how pissed she was.
“I’m sorry,” I tell her, hoping she realizes how sincere I am. “I fucked up.”
“How?” Ruby is peeling the wrapper back from her food, lifting it to her lips and taking a big bite. “Oh my God, this is good.”
“I’m the one who slapped your ass. I did this to you.”
“You’re always slapping my ass.” She shrugs.
“Not in public. Not in front of thousands of people and with cameras everywhere.” I shake my head, wondering how she can eat like it’s no big deal while I’m standing here sick to my stomach. “I cost you your job.”
“I think Marilee enjoyed firing me,” Ruby says conversationally. “I never did like her much.”
“Ruby.” My voice is so stern, she jerks her head up to meet my gaze, her green eyes wide. “Tell me what happened.”
She launches into the story, giving me every excruciating detail. Making me feel worse and worse, to the point that I have to pull out a chair and sink into it, propping my elbows on the table so I can bury my face in my hands.
The guilt I’m experiencing is goddamned overwhelming. This is the last thing I ever wanted to do. I cost the woman I love her job. All with a careless smack.
I’m such an asshole.
