The Guy in the Middle (The Underdogs Book 3) Page 21

  Awareness pricks up my spine.

  He shakes his head ironically at my silence. “You preach a hell of a lot about faith but seem to have none in us, in me.”

  “That’s not true. And that sounded a hell of a lot like an ultimatum, not a question.”

  “It is an ultimatum. And you’ve made it true. You told me dancing will always come first, and I didn’t listen. But after last night, I can’t be mad at you for it. I can’t.” He lets out a self-deprecating laugh. “I’ll take your silence as another no.”

  “Damnit, Lance, it’s not that simple—”

  His silvery gaze cuts me off mid-sentence. “Just fucking once, I would love to hear you say it was a mistake to leave, to leave me.” The guttural edge to his voice has my heart bottoming out.

  “Look how far we’ve both come.”

  He closes his eyes, and I know I’ve sealed my fate. His voice gets so low, I barely recognize it. “When I’m on that plane on the way home, and I admit to myself I do know why you won’t commit to me, I think it might just rip the rest of me apart.”

  “That’s not it. Not at all. Lance, you’re enough, you’re more than enough, don’t go,” I reach for his face, and he grips my hands between his. “Just one more day. We’ve still got time. If you could just stay one more day!” I’m hysterical and humiliating myself. “Stay. Please stay.”

  He cups my neck before his full lips cover me in his kiss. It’s far too brief before he pulls away. I feel it then, the distance he’s creating. Eyes intent on mine, he’s still cradling my head when he speaks. “I think what mattered to me most about coming here is that I never got a chance to say I love you. And I do, I love you, Harper.”

  His words strike deep, lifting my heart to an immeasurable height before it plummets to the concrete.

  “Please don’t go,” I grip his forearms as he releases me.

  I hate my stupidity, my cowardice the most. I shouldn’t have to squeeze the life I’ve made to fit inside his. It’s unfair to me. But that’s not what he’s asking. And it’s not the reason for my hesitation. It’s never been the reason. Dancing was just the best excuse to leave him, to leave Grand.

  SPEAK UP.

  SPEAK UP.

  Fear cripples me as I watch him make his way to the door.

  “Lance,” I croak my hopes crashing with his every step, “I swear to God, I love you.”

  He looks back at me with resignation in his eyes. “I know,” he says softly. “You were good at it.”

  And with that, he closes the door.

  The rest of his life starts now, and my silence just bought my front row seat.

  Harper

  Six weeks later…

  Racing through the airport to my gate with my passport in hand, I stop short when I see my flight’s delayed. We have our last show in Canada, and from there, I’m stuck auditioning again. Forever searching for the next gig. It’s terrifying when your career jumps from a small place of certainty to the unknown. Shouldering my bag, I make my way toward the bar. I’m in a martini kind of mood and have been for the last six weeks. I can’t, for the life of me, continue my life as if those days at Christmas didn’t happen. Winter got colder, more dismal, more miserable, more colorless when Lance left my apartment. I’m done denying that I didn’t make the biggest mistake of my life letting him walk out of it, losing him a second time. If it was for the best, then I could let go, but I can’t hold a candle of an excuse, save one.

  It’s not just dancing. It’s never been just about dancing.

  I ran away from the truth then, and I’m still running from it now, but it’s caught up with me in the most painful and colossal way. There’s no more denying it. Lance Prescott is the love of my life, and I didn’t need him to remind me, I was all too aware, but now, now I’ve twisted our separation reasons into a distorted version of the truth. I lived it for two years—lying—lying to myself, lying to him.

  Pulling up my phone, I scroll through his feed, searching for anything new. He’d obliterated his opponent in his last fight. Tony’s been quiet with him on social, only showcasing a few of his workouts. I’m sure he’s prepping for his premiere heavyweight fight taking place in only two weeks. A fight I would trade everything to see. A fight I deserve to attend. Search empty, I unwrap my scarf as the bartender approaches.

  “What are you having?”

  “Grey Goose martini, one olive.”

  “Sure.”

  I thumb my necklace, a new habit as I stare at my phone, willing it to come to life with a message, a single word, but I know it’s a foolish hope.

  I can’t blame him. He thinks I’ve been too quick to dismiss a future for us, again. I sip my fresh martini dreading the showcase in the days ahead. Even dancing has lost some of its joy.

  “Harper? Harper Elliot?”

  I turn to see the man calling my name from the opposite side of the bar.

  “Troy?”

  “I thought that was you, hey there,” he says, picking up his beer and heading my way. Troy was my first real college crush, one I kept from a distance until an insanely handsome cornerback came crashing in and stole every bit of his thunder. Our friendship formed when I was with Lance, and he’d revealed to me Troy was covering for us. I hadn’t realized how vital said friendship would be until the day he saved me. But along with all things I left in Texas, our budding friendship was cut short when the truth came out, dividing me from my life there. Troy takes the stool next to me and leans in with a light hug in greeting.

  “How are you?”

  “Good,” I say, nostalgic tears threatening. I haven’t been back to College Station since I left. Not even when my sister begged me when things got worse. But Troy’s presence now reminds me of the ever-present sun I miss with his bleached hair and year-round tan. He represents home so well that I have to turn away from him briefly to gather myself.

  “Harper, not to be an asshole, but you’re on the verge of tears, and all I said was hello.”

  “It’s nothing,” I sniff, cursing my inability to get my emotions in check. “Just memories. You look good,” I say, trying to change the subject. “I was so happy for you when you got drafted, and I wanted to reach out, but I didn’t know if it would be weird.”

  He frowns. “Why would it be weird?”

  “Because I’m your ex-roommate’s ex-girlfriend.”

  “We were, are friends, hence why I’m sitting with you and not on the other side of the bar.”

  “You know what I mean.”

  He sips his beer. “Aren’t you the girl who taught my son to dance?”

  “Yes.”

  “And, were you or were you not, the girl that talked me into trying cannoli?”

  “That was me.”

  “Yeah, well, thanks a lot. Does my ass look fat in these jeans?”

  We share a laugh, and I’m thankful for his attempt to lighten my mood.

  “So,” I take a sip of my drink, “where are you off to?”

  “On my way to Canada. I’ve got an endorsement deal.”

  “I’m on the same flight.”

  “No shit? Cool. We can sit together.” Troy is an absolute God, even with my heart tied up in one man, I can’t help but notice the chisel of his features, the light ocean in his eyes. He’s both beauty and charisma through and through and the opposite of me in so many ways. It’s what attracted me to him way back when I still had a heart to offer.

  “Aren’t you flying first class?”

  “Nope. My wife is an asshole.”

  This makes me full-on belly laugh.

  “And why is that?”

  “She said for every kid I knock her up with, I owe her a million for her trouble and a million in savings. She’s a cheap millionaire.”

  “How many are you up to?”

  “She’s a few months along with our fourth. I’m hoping for another boy.”

  “Damn, you wasted no time.”

  “Exactly. Needless to say, she’s pissed.”

>   “But, you’re happy.”

  “Hell yeah. But going broke fast,” he nods at the bartender for a fresh beer.

  “Ah, you’ll be playing for a long time.” It’s the truth. When the Giants picked him up, I still remember the scene I made in the bar in New York. Unlike Lance, Troy was a shoo-in during draft time. Despite their losing season, Troy never dropped the ball and carried it a record number of yards earning him enough points to set a Grand record for the whole of his career there. Those points weren’t enough to get him a bowl game, but it was enough to get him an invitation to camp and eventually snatch a lucrative contract that had the whole of TGU alumni in hysterics. I’ll never forget the feeling of pride I felt for him that day. Or the six martinis I had after picturing the devastation on his roommate’s face, who suffered the opposite fate. With the Giants, Troy landed himself in the playoffs this year, only losing by one point to get to the championship. He’s already a star in his second year and making waves.

  “So, what are you doing in Canada?”

  “Dancing. I’m with a show called Retro. It was a short run, but The New York Times did a piece on it, and they invited us to Calgary for an encore performance.”

  “That’s awesome. Have you been to Texas lately?”

  I shake my head. “Not in a couple of years, no.”

  “You should go. Nothing like a visit home to shake the dust off.”

  “Yeah, someday.”

  “The sooner, the better.” He drags out the word until I’m facing him.

  “Have you talked to him?”

  “Yeah. Things are rough at home with his dad. If you want honesty, he’s a fucking wreck. But it’s fuel for a guy like him. He’ll come out of it fighting.”

  “Are you going to see him in Vegas?”

  “Yeah. I’ll be ringside. You should join me.”

  “I wish I could.”

  “Where will you be?”

  I shrug. “I don’t know. I don’t have any commitments past this show.”

  “I know someone who could use you.” He winces. “That came out wrong.”

  “I could use him too,” I say, taking a gulp of my martini as a tear escapes down my cheek.

  “It’s not my business.” He sips his beer, picking up my napkin and dotting my face before I have a chance to wipe it away. “But you know what? I do want to know. It was so damned obvious you two were happy together.”

  “We were. So happy. Did he tell you he was here?”

  “Yeah. That’s why I brought him up; otherwise, I would give you the ex-respect.”

  I sip my martini and nod.

  “We’ve been talking a lot lately.” He chuckles. “He probably couldn’t get in touch with Dave.”

  I smile, even with fresh tears burning in my eyes.

  “I don’t get it, Harper. I really don’t. Though he’s not much for words, I gathered you weren’t interested in long term with him?”

  “That’s not true at all.”

  I just made him believe it because it was easier. Though none of it was easy, agony is a better word.

  “So, are you going to tell me why?”

  “I just have my reasons.”

  He reads my posture, and his back goes ramrod straight. Accusatory eyes roll over me. “No fucking way, Harper. You never told him?”

  “No, I left, there wasn’t any point.”

  “You promised me you would. You need to come clean.”

  “I can’t. He’s got enough on his plate now, and then, it was a hell of a lot worse. I just couldn’t,” I bat away a few tears, my defenses crumbling. I feel like an idiot sitting at a bar crying, but all the ache has made me useless, and the fear that I’m too late, that he really did close the door, is crippling. Troy looks around the bar as a muffled sob escapes me. He pulls me to him as I cry openly, unable to hold it in, cursing my emotions and their freaking impeccable timing. Troy holds me close, never wavering in the strength of it, his voice steady. I know then he’s probably an outstanding husband and father.

  “It’s okay, Harper, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you.”

  “I’m s-s-so embarrassed.” I look around to see the bartender’s eyes dart away.

  “Jesus, don’t be.”

  I pull away sniffing as two more drinks are delivered.

  “From a fan at that cocktail table.”

  Troy nods. “Thank him for us, but please do me a favor and grant us some privacy. Keep them at bay?”

  The bartender glances at me, and I drop my gaze. “Sure, man.”

  “Thanks.” Troy takes our drinks from the bar and gestures to a nearby booth for more privacy. Once seated, he turns to me.

  “Why didn’t you tell him?”

  “It’s humiliating for one.”

  “I get it, but he never suspected?”

  “No, and I was thankful. With his temper. He would have lost it.”

  “Aside from that day, what else did they do?”

  “What didn’t they do? Notes on my car, in class, and then that day, that day you stepped in, that was the worst of it. I never really got a chance to thank you.”

  “Don’t thank me, ever. I’m still disgusted.”

  “I j-just, c-can w-we stop t-talking about this?”

  “Harper, it’s clear this is eating you alive. You need to talk to someone.”

  “I’m sure you have better things to worry about.”

  “No, actually, I don’t. I was there. And I saw how they hurt you. I’m still pissed we didn’t report it.”

  “It was just better if I left.” I stab at the loose olive with my cocktail straw.

  “I get why you didn’t tell him, then. But why does it stop you now?”

  “Let’s just change the subject, okay?”

  “Harper—”

  “Because I don’t want to be the champ’s ugly ass girlfriend. That’s why!”

  “What?” Troy pales, his eyes going wide.

  “Jesus,” I sputter out, “if we’re going to discuss this, then let’s be real for a second. I’m not pretty enough for him. That was the perception then, and it will be now. I don’t know if I can handle a target on my back again.”

  “What the hell, Harper?”

  “Come on, Troy. You’re being kind. With his looks and talent, he will get big, he will. Except this time, the media will be involved because he will become a champion. Boohoo, right? At least I’ll have Lance. But what do you think they’re going to say about me? It’ll be the same shit all over again. I thought I was strong enough then, but I wasn’t. And that was just college. I cracked. I left him. I believed them. And some days I still do.”

  “Harper, you’re not ugly. Damn, is that what you really think?”

  “No. But I don’t think I’m pretty enough for Lance, and I know how pathetic that sounds. I have a good body image, and I work with what God gave me but standing next to him…it changes everything. And it does. It did. No one gave a shit about me at that school until I started dating him. At the home game before the one you helped me, these girls were openly talking about me a row down, saying how ugly I was and wondering what in the hell he could see in me? My sister was sitting next to me, begging me not to believe them, sobbing. But do you know why she was crying? Because it’s the truth. The truth is that as long as Lance is in the spotlight, I’ll be the ugly girlfriend who doesn’t deserve him.”

  “Harper, you can’t believe that.”

  “No offense, but you’ve never had a bad face day in your life. Being with him will make me a target, and I don’t know if I can handle it. Last time, they assaulted me, this time…I’m terrified to find out. So, when he asked me to commit to him, I hesitated. Fear won. That’s the truth.” I toss back my martini intent on numbing that realization off my tongue.

  He shakes his head. “I don’t think that way about you.”

  “You care about me, and anyone who does never really has the guts, nor the will to hurt me like that. But here’s the thing. I don’t need yo
u to tell me I’m pretty. I’m fine with the way I look, it’s everyone else who will have a problem with it. I need a solution.”

  “Harper, this is bullshit.”

  “Troy,” I stay adamant. “If it wasn’t true, it wouldn’t be an issue.”

  “Harper, you know that man thinks you don’t love him enough to be with him. To even try?”

  “I know. I’ve never told anyone but my nana what happened. Not even my best friend. Because I swore, I swore, I wouldn’t throw this pity party, but here I am, in full-blown PTSD two years later.”

  “It’s because you’re scared.”

  “Terrified. You can tell me it’s all going to be all right, and you can pep talk me all you want, but the truth is you know just how shitty people can be. And by being with him, I’m inviting that into my life. There is no solution.”

  “Shit, I don’t know what to say.”

  “Nothing to say. I’m so sorry you were coming to have a beer and relax, and I’m shitting all over your downtime.”

  “I don’t give a damn about that.”

  “You’re a good guy, Jenner.”

  “That’s a rare compliment for me, thanks. But I’m not dropping it. Harper, you have to tell him.”

  “So, what…he can tell me I’m pretty? That’s not a solution either, Troy.”

  “You can’t let them win.”

  “I handled it for months before I cracked. But it was more than that. My dad was terrified. That’s why he reacted so badly to the news. He got it all wrong, but I was bullied before in middle school, and that was a cakewalk compared to what they did to me. My dad was partially to blame. They didn’t just come after me. They came after my sister on social media first and then continued to harass her after the fact. And when it all came to a head, I had an escape route, and I took it. To spare Lance, me, my parents…everyone. It was just easier for me to leave than to let it go any further, you know?”

  “Yeah.”

  “I wanted to be here in New York, Troy. I did. It was an easy out, a way to follow my dream with one exception.”

  “Lance.”

  I nod. “See,” I sniff, “problem is, I can’t stop loving him.”

  “You aren’t going to outgrow him, Harper.”