Page 141 of Studs Up
I was still on the floor, cried out, screamed out, just out. Out of everything. There were no fucks, no love, no heart inside my chest. All of it was gone. I thought letting Allen go had been the worst pain in my life. That was a cakewalk compared to this.
I was so lost in my head that I barely registered the banging on the door.
Over and over, a fist hammered on the bathroom door. Alex was going to break it down. I had no idea how long I laid on the hard floor, but my body ached as I dragged myself to my feet.
I opened the door, ready to lay a slew of obscenities at him.
“Get out here,” he said before I could say anything.
I stepped into the hall, and thirty-two pairs of eyes watched. How Alex fit the entire team into his apartment was beyond me.
It was dark outside, and orange lights from the street glowed around the edges of the three rookies squished together in a corner.
Charlemagne broke rank first and, without saying a word, wrapped his big arms around me and picked me up in a bone crushing hug.
“What are you guys doing here?” I wheezed when Alex finally got him to put me down.
Sam Montero stepped before me. In his hands was a plate carefully wrapped in foil with a rainbow bow on top. He looked at it mournfully and then looked up at me.
“My wife made you my favorite pie,” he held it out like he was giving up his baby to me.
“Um, thanks,” I said. I gave Alex a look, and he only grinned. “What kind of pie is it?”
“Blueberry rhubarb,” he said, staring at the pie. What an odd combination.
“Oh, well, tell her thank you.” I was a little confused about why they were here and why I was standing in Alex’s hall with a pie.
“Can we talk?” Rafa asked.
“Um…” Did I want that? All the eyes were on me. It didn’t hurt as bad as I thought, but I was empty and cold, and their stares did little to stoke embarrassment or shame.
“What happened to you was complete bullshit. And,” he looked around at the other guys. “We all want you to know that we stand with you.”
Okay, so that was unexpected. Alex was smiling at me.
“We also told the front office that if they make any move to push you out, we will refuse to play,” Charlemagne crossed his arms and nodded confidently. “And we mean it. Trophy or no trophy”
“We took a vote on it,” Montero said, with one eye on the pie.
“It was unanimous,” Alex reached out and squeezed my arm.
In all my calculations, acceptance was never one of the outcomes. I didn’t even want to consider it because I didn’t want to hope.
Rafa stepped before me and pulled a rainbow armband.
“We’ll be wearing these at the game,” he handed it to me. “This one is yours.”
“Look,” Wilkins said. “We know we haven’t exactly made it easy to come out. And that probably made all of this the big deal that it is. And that’s on us.”
I couldn’t argue with that, but I didn’t say anything.
“Thank you,” I choked. The fabric barely weighed an ounce but felt heavy in my hand.
“So this guy, was he really anonymous? Because I am French, the look on your face did not scream hook up,” Charlemagne asked.
I didn’t have it in me to lie. I shook my head and looked away. What I had done to Nolan would stick with me for the rest of my life.
“He is your lover,” Charlemagne’s accent thickened as he expected me to answer.
