Anxious Love (Love Sick #1) (25 page)

"So you won't have to live with disappointing them." He pushed his food away. "You've done this since your parents disappointed you."

"My parents didn't disappoint me. They died."

"Come on, Ryan. You're a smart man. Can't you figure this out?"

"Apparently not."

"Your father died and then your mother. They left you alone in this world to fend for yourself."

"They didn't do it on purpose," I whispered.

"It doesn't matter. They left you, and since then, you push people away. You're scared of people leaving you, so you leave them."

I blinked.

"You did it to me sophomore year. When I was playing lineman and I got the start over you in that Alabama game. You fucking wouldn't talk to me that whole week. Never mind you were nursing an injury. Somehow, I did it to you. But I fucked up in that game, and you were back in the role of taking care of me. You need that dynamic in a relationship."

"That's ridiculous. You're still here. We're still friends."

"I didn't leave. I just let you be an ass and waited it out."

I stared at him.

"When you get to the point when you start to rely on people, you bail, but as long as you can help them, you find purpose and a reason in the relationship." He stood and leaned against the counter. He crossed his hands over his chest and continued. "I think that you somehow felt safe with Leah's anxiety disorder because you could help her overcome it, but now that you know the source of it is much worse than you thought, you don't see how to handle it, so you push her away."

"Dude, if this football thing doesn't work out for you, you need to go back to school for psychology," I said sarcastically.

"Don't I know it." He smirked.

"Fuck you." The tears formed in my eyes, but I wiped them away and stood up. I clenched at my chest as my heart pounded. I heard the thud in my brain. I walked across the room but stopped. My hands balled into a fist, and I punched the wall repeatedly. A fist-size indention remained where my fist went through the sheetrock. I saw the blood on my knuckles before the pain hit.

"Shit, man," Daniel said as he ran to my side. He grabbed my wrist and pushed me back from the wall.

He sat me down on the edge of the couch and ran back to the kitchen and came back with a towel and one of the many ice packs we keep in the freezer. We kept them on hand for after-game recovery. For when opposing team members dealt out punishment or when we gave it out ourselves. I never suspected I'd need it to recover from punishing myself.

He cleaned up my hand and wrapped it.

This time, the tears fell. I didn't care anymore. Deep down, I knew he was right.

I was really listening to the guy who's been cheating on his girlfriend for four years.

If anger, resentment, and hurting myself weren’t going to make me feel better, turning to the bottle might help.

I waited for Daniel to head to bed and I snuck out. The pain in my hand throbbed, but I refused to go to the hospital as he suggested. I knew I needed to keep it from my team, too. I watched my self-control as it slipped through my bruised fingers, and I had no way to stop it.

At least, with scotch, I could slow it down.

I walked to a bar in my neighborhood. The place was dark but packed. I found a spot at the counter and ordered.

I stared down into the dark liquid. I knew it would burn before it hit my lips. It reminded me of our first date. My mouth watered, and I downed it in two gulps and ordered another.

My insides warmed even while my throat burned, but the throbbing in my hand stopped. I didn't realize it then, but it was traveling to my head.

It wasn't until the first note played and the sound came out of her voice that I realized why everyone was in the bar.

I turned and grunted when I saw Sophie standing on the bandstand, her hands clutching the mic, her eyes closed, and her head bobbing to the jazz beat.

I knew she was a singer, but we never went to watch her perform. I looked around the dark bar. I found pockets of people scattered throughout the small establishment—some standing and others sitting at small round tables. I saw it the way it was, an innocent gathering of people enjoying the atmosphere. The sounds were mellow, and the drinks and the smoke add to the cool vibe. I focused on Sophie's voice through the next couple of songs. Her voice was pure and so different from her talking voice. It was softer and more confident.

She spotted me. Her voice hitched, and her eyes grew wide, but she kept singing. When she finished the song, the band took a break, and I order another drink. She appeared by my side five minutes later.

"Hey Ryan," she said, her forced chipper voice made me groan. "I'm surprised to see you here."

"I didn't know you sang here. I just needed a drink."

She touched my bandaged hand but didn't ask. "What are you drinking?"

"Scotch," I said as the bartender poured me another one. He handed her a glass of clear liquid.

"Thanks, Jerry," she said to the bartender and he winked. She held up the glass. "I'd like to propose a toast."

I glared down at her but held up my glass.

"Here's to stupidity," Sophie said.

I set my glass down, and she took a big gulp of her drink and leaned into me. I bent down and felt her breath on my ear.

"You're such a fucking coward."

She turned to walk away, but I grabbed her arm. She pulled it out of my grip.

I was ready to yell at her, to tell her she didn't understand. She didn't know what it was like to believe in someone more than they believed in themselves. She didn't understand how hard it was to watch someone think they were less than what they were, what they could be.

She had no clue what it was like to be with someone and see them in a way they didn't see themselves.

I groaned because I wasn't sure if I was describing how I felt about Leah or how my action made me feel about myself.

I looked down at Sophie, her hands on her hips, cocked to one side. Her eyes burned through me as she bit her lip and waited. I looked back at the couple in the corner. The bar seemed smaller; too many people had crowded into the small space, and their movement made me nauseous.

Sophie lowered her arms and shifted on her feet. It was hot in here, and my body shook as my head throbbed and my vision blurred.

I pushed past Sophie, almost knocking her down as I stumbled toward the entrance. I heard my name but didn't respond as I pushed my way outside and gulped in the fresh air.

The air was thick and humid, but it cleared my head. I stood on the sidewalk, my hands on my knees, sucking in the oxygen and trying to get my brain to stop banging against my skull. When the contents of my stomach stopped churning, I stood up, and Sophie stood in front of me.

"You okay?" she asked.

I laughed and then walked a few feet before sitting down on the curb. "No."

She squatted in front of me. "What happened in there?"

"Too much scotch, too fast." I looked up at her. "I wondered if that's what Leah feels like in a crowd." I chuckled but stopped when the sound and movement made me nauseous.

Sophie scrunched her face, stood up, and sat next to me. "Yeah, maybe a little, but we can't know how she feels even if she tells us."

"I couldn't handle it." I smirked.

"Then it's a good thing you left."

I glared at Sophie.

"Aren't you going to tell me to get over myself? Leah needs me."

Sophie let out an audible and frustrated sigh.

"She doesn't need you, Ryan."

I turned to face her. She slowly shook her head, her disgust with me evident.

"Where is she?" I asked.

She seemed reluctant to tell me.

"At the lake."

I nodded. "Cutting herself off from the world again?"

"Jesus Ryan," Sophie said as she pushed me on the shoulder. It caught me off guard. I braced myself with my bad hand and groaned as the pain shot up my arm.

"You really are clueless. She has done more, exposed herself to more, put herself out there more since meeting you. Not to mention the time you two spent in her apartment. I imagine she needed to get away because her whole world lately reminds her of you."

One problem with that theory—we made some pretty lasting memories at the lake house, too. I kept that information to myself.

Sophie reached out and touched my arm, and while she might have meant it as a comfort, her kindness made me feel ashamed. "What happened to her in the past doesn't change the person she is or the person you care about. She's strong, even strong enough to get over you."

Sophie stood up, and I stared up at her. "It's probably best that you stay away. You don't deserve her."

I watched Sophie walk back into the bar.

"Fuck," I whispered under my breath.

Leah was at the lake. I could go to her. I could drive out there, apologize, and beg for her forgiveness.

A warm feeling started in my stomach and moved south when I thought about our time at the lake. She was so open and free. I smiled remembering the way she walked around naked, curves set off perfect with the lake in the backdrop and the sun on her light brown skin. How we’d had sex on the deck out in the open and how she had grinned down at me when she came. The look on her face, the admiration in her eyes when she looked at me.

The time we spent in her apartment, talking and laughing and fucking. Her being up for anything I asked. God, being with her was so good. It felt so good. I grinned.

Since Leah came into my life, I had never been happier. It kind of seemed silly when I thought about all I got from being with her. Maybe the fact she couldn't be in parts of my life weren't that big of a sacrifice.

"Oh, shit. You're Ryan Ware." I turned and found three college-age guys staring down at me. "Dude, Ryan, man, I got to get your picture. I'm a huge Notre Dame fan." The guy kneeled next to me, and the other guy held up his phone.

I smirked when the guy snapped the photo. I stood up thankful I didn't stumble. "How you guys doing tonight?"

"Dude, you have to let me buy you a drink," the other kid said.

They were only a year or two younger than me, but they looked like kids.

"Nah, I've had enough."

"Okay, one more photo." The two other guys crowded in, and a couple of girls had stopped with their phone in their hand ready to step in as the guys finished.

"Oh my God, he is so hot," one of the girls said. A few more people gathered, and I stood on the sidewalk, shook everyone’s hand, took photos, and tried to give each one a moment of my time.

The blonde, who thought I was hot, grabbed my arm and rubbed her tits up against me. I thought to myself, I should be fucking girls like this and leave the serious shit for when I'm thirty. I shook my head and laughed, but my chest hurt. Being with Leah was nothing but serious. She was a serious person. What she had been through, who it made her into, she was far out of my league.

I stiffened when the blonde stood on her toes, pulled my neck down, and whispered in my ear. "I've never fucked an NFL player before."

I blinked and stared down with my jaw locked in a smirk. She giggled and batted her eyes, but her friends grabbed her. As she walked away, she stuck a finger in her mouth and sucked on it, pulled it out and motioned for me to follow. No reason I couldn't follower her and fuck her. Nothing was keeping me from being that guy . . . except Leah.

I couldn't deny it anymore. I was in love with Leah.

Fuck my life.

"You are not going to believe who walked into the bar last night." Sophie barely made it to the front porch of the lake house before spilling her conversation with Ryan. I wasn't sure what to do with the information. He was miserable, but he was drinking. The start of the season was less than a week away. I didn't want him to throw his dreams away because of our breakup. No matter how satisfying it would be for me. The big, strong NFL football man could be brought to his knees by little anxiety-filled, timid me.

"He is having a hard time dealing with it, but I think he will get over it."

I frowned. "That doesn't make me feel any better."