she’d been so honest with him; he’d felt he owed her the same. She stood up and hid her hands in her pockets, her shoulders hunching slightly. “You know what?I’m exhausted. Jet lag, crying. I don’t think I’m up for any more sightseeing today.”
“Want to go back to the hotel?”
She nodded so he stood too. “Let me grab my things and I’ll call us a minicab.”
“Oh, you don’t have to—”
“I’m not letting you go on your own. Come on. I’ll show you to the ladies’. You might want to check your makeup before we go.”
She grimaced. “That bad?”
“It kinda looks like someone beat the shit out of you, and I don’t want to end up in any tabloids.”
She half smiled. “You’re such a charmer.”
“Some things never change.” They really didn’t. He’d left her in Barcelona so he could get to preseason training. And now, instead of giving her the comfort she needed, he admitted he would’ve let her down. If his imagination failed to giveher what she needed, how could he give it to her in reality?
He put the picture back in its envelope and showed her to the loo so she could remove as much of the raccoon mask as possible. While she was in there, he called a minicab, packed the picture Camila had given him and his few remaining belongings into the duffel bag he’d brought, and said one last quiet goodbye to the stadium thatfelt more like home than home. He couldn’t imagine his life without his club—but he would have to start trying.
When Camila came out, he shouldered his duffel, wishing she didn’t look so skittish and uncertain, as if she were scared he would pounce. He desperately wanted to hold her, but her body language shouted her disapproval of that idea. So he kept his movements impersonal and gesturedtoward the door. “There’s a minicab waiting outside.”
Once they’d buckled up, she stared silently out the window as the city passed by, and he gave her her privacy and space.
When the cab pulled up outside their hotel, Camila reached for her purse but Ash stayed her hand, allowing himself that much contact if nothing more. “I’ll take care of it.”
“Ash, I can—”
“So can I. Letme.”
She hesitated but gave in. “Thank you. I’m sorry for falling apart.”
“I guess I’m sorry for not falling apart.”
A smile tugged at her lips. “One thing I’ve learned from all the counselors I work with—I shouldn’t judge people for reacting differently than I do to intense situations.” She climbed out while Ash paid the driver, and then he walked with her into the lobby. “Whencan you come to L.A.?”
“When do you need me there?”
“The kids arrive on Friday, so as soon as possible.”
Today was Sunday. She was flying out tomorrow, but he had some things to wrap up first. “I’ll do my best to get there by Wednesday. That okay?”
“Perfect.” She fumbled with her bag for a second before pulling out a business card. “Here’s my contact info. Let me know whenyou’ve booked your flights.”
He took it. “I will.”
Backing up toward the lifts, she swung her hands as if she were nervous. “It means a lot to me. Everything today, I mean. Really.”
Don’t go.
The same thought had plagued him as he’d boarded the plane in Barcelona. But, just like then, circumstances wouldn’t allow him to stay. He had to go see his parents, figure out what the fuckwas going on. “It means a lot to me too, Mila. Thank you for telling me.”
She pressed her lips to the side and gave him a quick nod, her dark hair falling over her shoulder. “See you later this week.”
Wednesday was too far away. On impulse, he said, “Have dinner with me tonight. We’re both still staying here. We can catch up some more.”
She hesitated. “I… I kinda feel I need tobe alone with my thoughts for a while.”
Disappointment ate at him, though he understood completely so he swallowed it. It formed a hard, painful ball in his gut. “Till L.A., then.”
She