I ignore him and run to the back door, screaming her name. “Grace!” I throw open the door in time to see her driving away.
Hell no, she’s not dismissing me anymore.
I give her the courtesy of knocking twice before using my key to let myself into her apartment. Music blares from her room, the sound drifting through the place. Boxes are stacked neatly along the walls, all labeled with her belongings. Her scent hangs in the air, but otherwise, this looks nothing like her place. It’s barren, every picture, knick-knack, and piece of art packed.
An ache pierces my chest. Not only is she leaving, but she’s been doing all of this alone. I should have been here, helping her.
“NICK!” Grace shouts, causing me to whirl around. She stands at the foot of the kitchen with her hand over her chest and a look of fright on her face.
Without delay, I stalk to her, lifting her in my arms and pressing her as close as possible. “You’ve never been inconsequential. You’ve always been number one,” I say into her hair. “Always, Sweet Peach.”
She squirms, shoving hard to get away, which makes me tighten my grip. “Let me down.”
“No.”
“Nick, I’m having trouble breathing.”
I loosen my hold, but only enough to shift back a few inches so I can see her face. “I’m sorry.”
“Okay.” Her response is robotic, without an ounce of sincerity.
“I’ll apologize every day of my life if you will forgive me.”
Pain flashes across her face while she braces on my biceps, trying to get away.
“Stop fighting me.”
“Then put me down.”
“No.”
“Why?”
“Because I need you to accept my apology with more than an okay.”
“What exactly are you apologizing for? We can start with conspiring with Logan and end with you making out with the busty blonde after the game on Sunday.”
My arms go weak, and I place her back on her feet before staggering back. “What the hell are you talking about?”
“The blonde that leaped in your arms after the win. It was all over the internet.”
“You know I don’t look at the internet.”
“Well, unfortunately, I did, and the image is burned in my brain. I especially like the part when she leaned in to kiss you so sweetly while everyone stood by smiling from ear to ear.”
I vaguely recall Sunday after the game, remembering very little after leaving the field. The only reason I walked into that locker room chaos, instead of heading straight to the press room, was because Shaw encouraged me to be a leader to the team. I knew what he was doing, trying to help lift my spirits by seeing the celebratory mood. But I didn’t feel like it. I did my job, and all I wanted was to get to a phone and see if Grace had called.
Looking at her face now, I understand why. The memory comes crashing back.
The girl, the jump, the kiss.
Then me throwing her away as if she was diseased and Bizzy threatening to kill her.
“Grace, it wasn’t what you think. I swear to you.”
She nods, walking back to her room and turning off her music. I’m on her heel, ready to explain, until I see her room.
Her beautiful room, her gorgeous décor, the bright colors and all her personal belongings… Gone. Packed away, exactly like the living room. Every trace of Grace is disappearing.