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Warning Track: The Callahan Family, Book One Page 17
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Everything he’s saying should be exactly what I want to hear, but it won’t penetrate my ice-cold heart. The more and more I’ve thought about it over the past week, the less and less I think that we can actually work long term.
“We can’t do this anymore. We’re bound to get caught.” My voice cracks, because losing him is the last thing I want.
There just isn’t any other way I can see this working, though. And before I fall even deeper into him, though Lord knows I’m already there, the worse it’s going to break me.
“But I love you. And you told me you love me, too.” Hayes’ voice has a note of pleading as he says this like it’s the simplest idea in the world.
“Love doesn’t solve everything, Hayes.” My temper flares. “What were we going to do after the season ends? Are you leaving? Are you signing our contract? Either way, we can’t go public. How much longer can we realistically do this? We’ll either end up resenting each other for all that we can’t be, or it will blow up in our faces. You heard Walker, I’m acting just like my father. I won’t turn into him.”
“So instead, you want to end this? We can figure this out. I know those questions weigh heavy, I’ve been posing them to myself. Don’t do this right now, though, baby.”
I dare to look him right in the eye, at least giving us that much dignity. “When should we do it then? It’s coming, we both know it.”
My voice is miserable, and a tear leaks down my cheek. I don’t want to end things; I don’t want to shut out the only man I’ve ever truly loved. But today only underscores what our lives could become. We’re hiding in the shadows, operating illegally, exactly like my father did. And I’ve always been the type of woman who put her career, the family business, ahead of her own personal needs. It’s time for me to step up and do just that.
Even if it breaks my own heart.
“I made a promise to myself and to our organization when Dad went away. I made a promise to my grandfather a long time ago, that I would be the next generation of the Callahan dynasty. I can’t do those things if I’m lying. Please, don’t make me.” I shake my head in sorrow, silently begging Hayes to go quietly.
Dropping his head to look at the floor, I read his body language. It’s an expression of something I rarely ever see on Hayes Swindell. Defeat.
“If this is what you want, then I guess I can’t say anything to change your mind. I love you. I probably always will.”
They’re the saddest words I’ve ever heard spoken, and as I hear him close my sliding glass door behind him and sneak off into the night, I collapse on my elbows.
They say that curling up with sweets is the cure for a broken heart, of which there are plenty on my counters. But I just slink into bed, tossing the covers over my fully-clothed body, and cry myself to sleep.
33
Colleen
I opt to work from home the next day, even though the team is traveling to Louisiana to play their first league championship game.
There is no way I can even face pulling up to the ballpark, not with my eyes swollen and red the way they are. Sure, I could pass it off that I’m upset about all the news coverage drudging up my father’s arrest again. But if I’m confronted with the large banners and posters of Hayes hung all around the ballpark, I might lose it.
It feels unprofessional not to be on that plane either, and Uncle Daniel was surprised I wasn’t going to attend the first game of a playoff-worthy team I’d helped create.
But I’m too miserable. Even now, as I look at the pile of papers on my at-home desk that my assistant dropped off a few hours ago, I can barely concentrate.
My heart physically hurts. It didn’t feel this way when my father was arrested, or any time throughout his trial. No, by breaking up with Hayes, I’m pretty sure I’ve broken it beyond repair. Of course, I regret it, of course, I wish he’d come through that door, scoop me up into the world’s most epic kiss.
But the rational side of me knows I did the right thing. If anyone else besides Walker had discovered us, there would have been dire consequences, for both of us. I’ve fallen in love with the one person who is off-limits, and I am paying the price. While it was the smart decision, not the emotional one, it doesn’t mean I can’t sulk in my own heartbreak for a few days.
The end of my relationship isn’t the only thing on my mind, though. Hayes’ words keep plaguing me, about how I’m giving my father more power by not addressing him or confronting how upset I am. They taunt at me, as do the interviews my father has done. I’ve betrayed my strong stance on not watching them and fell down a rabbit hole last night. That hole was full of self-loathing, doubt, and feeling like general crap. My father implied things about me that he’d never say to my face—all for fifteen minutes of fame.
It got me angry enough, and even more so now, that I stomp to my kitchen. I’m done leaving that letter there, mocking me from its hiding place.
Pulling open the junk drawer, I reach all the way to the bottom before my brain can stop me. Furiously, I rip it open, as if I’m pulling off a Band-Aid instead of going slow.
Once it’s out and I can make out the chicken-scratch scrawl of my father’s handwriting, one that is as familiar to me as my own is, I begin reading.
Colleen,
You’ve refused to answer my calls or meet with my attorney, so I am forced to communicate with you this way. I’m disappointed that my only daughter didn’t stand up in court to defend me, much less come down here to visit me in prison. I may have skirted the system, but I did that damn job better than anyone who has ever done it before.
I may be one of the only people who knows about your grandfather’s will, but don’t think that secret will stay buried for long. I tried to teach and train you as best as I could, but I have no doubt that will all be in vain. You’re not cut out for this industry, or what it takes to achieve success. You are soft, Colleen, and the organization needed someone like me at its helm.
We are family, like it or not, I am your father. You should be here for me in my time of need, instead of being a selfish brat I didn’t raise you to be. Although, don’t forget you never wanted for anything.
You’re in for a rude awakening when the season starts. You think you know hard work? I’m laughing in my cell just thinking about how unprepared you are.
Come see me, Colleen. That isn’t a request. I am your father, show some respect.
Love,
Dad
I’m not sure what I thought that letter would contain, but I certainly didn’t expect this. Foolishly, I hoped my father would have given me an apology. That he would say sorry for putting me in this position, for jeopardizing something our family worked so hard for. That he was wracked with grief about the fact that he wouldn’t be able to be in my life for the foreseeable future.
Instead, he’s threatened me, degraded me … I can hear all the ugliness inside him poured out onto this page. I’m glad I didn’t read this before spring training, back when he sent it. It would have destroyed me even more. I doubt myself every day, never feel like I’m good enough, but at least I’ve been on the job for a few months now and feel like I have a good grasp on it. My father’s words would have dismantled that before I’d even begun.
And to sign it “love”? No wonder I have no idea how to trust a man, or allow someone to see the most vulnerable parts of me. This is the love I was raised on.
Tears, hot and fierce, come streaming down my cheeks. I cry for the little girl who never received the love every child should have. I cry for the young woman who grew up without a mother, without the one person you’re supposed to be able to confide in. I cry that I was raised by an egomaniac, one who can’t even admit his own wrongs and the way he destroyed some people’s lives. I cry because my grandfather isn’t here to fix this for me. I cry because the one man who fell in love with me is the one I pushed away, out of fear and the responsibility of duty.
My phone rings and I drop the letter, as if someone is watching me do something
I shouldn’t be.
But when I pick it up, I’m surprised at whose picture is flashing across the screen.
“Hello?” I say, in disbelief that Walker might actually be returning my calls.
“We won. Not that you’d know, since you aren’t here.” His tone is accusatory.
“I’m glad you won. On to game two.” My voice cracks even though I try to hold my composure.
My cousin’s frustrated sigh comes through the phone. “I’m sorry I’ve been avoiding you.”
Picking at a dried spot of egg on the counter, left behind from my baking fiasco, I huff. “Me too. I could have really used your shoulder.”
There is silence, and I wonder if Walker is walking around the ballpark. Is he on the bus? Or maybe back at the hotel?
“Do you love him?” Walker asks, suspicion in his voice.
I shrug as if he can see me. “It doesn’t matter anymore. I broke things off. You were right, I was acting just like Jimmy.”
“Col, I was an ass for saying that. It wasn’t true at all. I’m sorry, I really am. I was just so hurt. The way you two looked, it was going on a while, wasn’t it?”
“Yes. It’s over now, though.” Just saying the words makes me want to break down all over again.
Walker breathes into the phone. “You sound sad.”
He knows me best, so he should know. “I am.”
It’s too much right now for me to tell him about Dad’s letter, and if I mention it, I think Walker will ask me to read it over the phone. Which I definitely can’t do. I’ll have him read it eventually, but just having consumed the words myself, it’s all too raw.
“Not that I think it’s a good idea, but if you really love the guy, you shouldn’t give it up. I told you once that you deserve happiness. If he makes you happy … I think you should be happy. With him. You could do worse, in terms of a boyfriend. Hayes is a decent guy, though I’m still going to kick his ass for not telling me.”
I roll my eyes. “Please, you’re not that tough. But thanks, Walker. I’m pretty sure we’re through; there isn’t a way it could work out without blowing up in our faces.”
“Maybe in the future,” Walker suggests.
The idea sparks in my head, but I refuse to let the hope bloom in my chest. I saw the look in Hayes’ eyes when he left. Hurt, disappointment, even a touch of scorn.
If I waited until it was completely acceptable for us to be together, it would be too late.
So I’ll do what I’ve always done. Push my personal life to the back burner, and focus on my career.
34
Hayes
We may have won two out of our first three games and be going home with the lead, but I can’t bring myself to feel much more than decent.
Because most days, I just feel like shit. Those two victories brought momentary relief, but once I stepped foot off the field, the misery was back like a storm cloud threatening never to dissipate.
I haven’t spoken to Colleen in five days, and it feels like an eternity. It’s funny that before I met her, before I fell in love the deepest I’ve ever felt the emotion, I was perfectly fine gliding through life alone. I didn’t depend on anyone or anything, and my emotions were in check, if not safe.
Loving that woman has shown me just how wild and chaotic the human heart can act. And now that I’ve done so, going back to the lifestyle I lived before seems damn near impossible.
Colleen took a chunk of me, not just my heart. Over the last few months, she’s gradually weaved her love, her conversation, and her kind of caring into my being. I miss the way she’d curl into me as we slept at night, or the shimmy of her hips as she’d dance to random radio songs making breakfast in the morning. I miss the sneaky, flirty glances she’d cast me across a crowded meeting room. I miss everything.
I can’t force her to confront her demons. She has to be the one to do so, and until then I guess I’ll just wait. It feels like everything in my life is hanging on a tightrope between two skyscrapers. My contract, the future of my career, my future with Colleen, the need to figure out how we could move forward if she does decide that she wants to do this.
Meanwhile, my heart, and my stomach, have been in a state of depression I’ve never encountered. I keep thinking, so this is what it feels like to truly break up with someone.
I’ve never, not even as an orphan who fantasized about his biological parents, felt this kind of pain from a loss. It’s sharp and jagged, nagging at my chest twenty-four hours of the day.
The email from Charlie containing the various contracts or offers being proposed sits in my inbox. I’ve barely skimmed it, too heartbroken and emotional to make a rational decision. Plus, part of me just doesn’t want to move on from this moment. If I take a step forward, it means I’m moving out of this phase, which includes Colleen.
Now that we’re through, it almost doesn’t make sense to stay here. It would be too painful, seeing her almost every day. And I wouldn’t dare trying to throw her off her game as general manager, she’s far too talented and good at her job for me to be a distraction.
I wish I could just show up, demand that she stop being so stubborn and let me in. I may have pushed her, but I wasn’t wrong. Since the first time we bumped into each other in that hallway, she was cowering in the shadow of her father’s mistakes. It’s time to walk out of that darkness, since I see it cloud her face at each mention of him.
She might think breaking things off is noble, that it saved us scandal and drama, but I’m not convinced. Because I feel like shit warmed over now that we’re not together. All of my happiest moments in the league, all the accomplishments and rings and feelings of being a champion combined can’t fill the gaping hole of Colleen in my life. That’s how I know she’s more important than anything.
Right now, I have no idea what my future holds. But there is a ticking clock counting down in the back of my head, like something out of Peter Pan. Eventually, it’s going to catch up to me, like that goddamn crocodile.
And if I haven’t made the right decision, whatever that may be, it’s going to swallow me whole.
35
Colleen
It’s been almost two weeks since I broke up with Hayes in my kitchen, and it’s not gotten easier when we accidentally bump into each other.
Case in point, this very moment. I’m walking to my car, trying to avoid the player’s exit and taking a different way out of the parking lot, but apparently Hayes has chosen this exit for the exact same reason.
Ever since the night of the attack, I’ve been cautious about what time I leave and that I’m always in view of a security guard. If I don’t have someone to walk me out, most times in the past I’ve asked Hayes or Walker, I contact Gerald and he comes with me. Most of the fear of being assaulted again has faded as the months have passed, mostly because I have too much going on both personal and professional to be weighed down by the psychological trauma I know is still looming in the back of my brain. But it seems, for now, I’ve locked it safely in a box to be addressed at a later time. Probably when the trial starts, which will be a perfectly opportune time for another mental breakdown.
Gerald and I are walking side by side when Hayes comes out of the stairwell a few feet in front of us.
“Oh, I …” His eyes are shifty as he sees me, and my heart seizes at the sight of him.
I’ve barely let myself acknowledge him, the pain in my chest too overwhelming if I really took him all in. But now his gorgeousness is smacking me in the face, and there is nowhere to run.
“Oh, good, Mr. Swindell is here to walk you out.” Gerald winks at me, because this has happened before.
Though he never asks any questions, I’m aware that Gerald has caught on that Hayes and I are … involved.
“Wait … I …” I reach for Gerald, who is already retreating.
What would I even say? Please don’t leave us together because we broke up and it’ll be awkward as hell if he has to walk me to my car. That would be even more awkwa
rd for everyone involved.
Hayes and I are left standing there, shuffling our feet like shy, strange teenage crushes.
“I don’t mind. I’ll walk you out,” he says.
“Thanks,” I mumble, my heart beating so erratically in his presence.
We walk side by side down the corridor, out to a side entrance that dumps into the parking lot. I want to say so many things, the words right there on the tip of my tongue, but I can’t. I’m the one who ended things, and even with the conversation Walker and I had, I can’t see a way around the biggest issue Hayes and I face.
My father’s words in that letter are etched in my brain, and if I needed more evidence about how I could screw up more as a general manager, imagine what he’d say if he knew I was dating one of my players?
“Colleen …” Hayes turns to me as we hit the chilled October air, and my throat goes dry.
Neither of us can get a word in, though, before we hear an ear-splitting scream.
Our eyes go wide at the same second, and my own assault flashes through my mind. I’m running before I even know what I’m running toward.
When I near the screaming, I see Hannah Giraldi, slumped on the ground, blood pouring from a gash on her head.
“Oh my God!” The screech doesn’t even sound like it’s my own when it bursts from my lips.