It’s like part of my soul is gone, and I don’t know how to survive without it. Everything I did, I did because I chose to put her first. It wasn’t fair to her to put her through the wringer just because she’s associated with me. She shouldn’t have to endure the criticism and hate because she’s with me. She’s too good and too sweet and too kind to have to live with that kind of hate continually finding her.
I was trying to put her first, and I assumed that would make things easier to digest. Since I did this for Stevie, I figured I would be able to handle the heartbreak I brought on myself.
But there hasn’t been a moment of reprieve. Since the second I walked out of Stevie’s apartment when I threw up on the side of her building from doing something no part of my body wanted to do, all the way to this very moment, the pain has become exponentially worse.
Grabbing my glass from the coffee table in my hotel room, I take a swig of the whiskey I poured an hour ago. I have a strict no-drinking policy during playoffs, but I’ve done plenty of things this week I never thought I’d do, so having a drink after a game seems pretty tame in comparison to the other choices I made.
Two in the morning, and I’m sitting on a couch in Seattle, drinking warm whiskey and scrolling through every picture I have of her while reading every text we’ve ever exchanged, needing to fill the hollow void in some way. I screenshot every one of Stevie’s Instagram photos the night the paparazzi found us before we jointly decided to unfollow each other as a way to keep her name out of the press. I’ve stared at those images this week more times than I could count.
A quiet knock on my door sounds, and like the sad fucker I am, a moment of hope flashes through me, thinking it might be her. But even though we may be in the same city, she’d never come and find me, and I don’t blame her one bit.
Maddison stands on the other side of my door, looking as exhausted as I do, his brown hair disheveled and his eyes laced with sleep.
“Can I come in?” he asks as I open the door. He eyes the whiskey on the table between us. “What happened to your no-drinking rule?”
“Been doing a lot of things I never thought I would. Figured having a drink was nothing in comparison.”
“Pour me one then.” Maddison nods to the bottle.
I grab another crystal glass and pour some warm amber liquid into it. Cheersing, he takes a swig.
“This is disgusting.”
“I know.” Taking the seat on the couch, I lean forward, draping my elbows on my knees with my head hanging low.
“You’ve got to stop punishing yourself.”
My head snaps up. “You think me being too lazy to go get ice is a form of punishing myself?” I blow out a half-hearted laugh.
“That’s not what I’m referring to, and you know it.”
“If you’re here to talk about Stevie, I don’t want to hear it. It’s two in the fucking morning, so you should go.”
“I don’t really give a fuck what you do or don’t want to talk about. I can’t sleep because my best friend is in the worst shape I’ve ever seen him, so yeah, we’re going to talk.”
I lean back on the couch, casually crossing one ankle over my knee before taking a swig of my warm whiskey. And I do it all while wearing a smug as fuck grin, silently saying, Good luck getting me to talk, asshole.
“I fired Rich.”
Well, that’ll do it.
“What?” Leaning forward, I place my glass back on the table before I accidentally drop it in my state of shock.
“I fired Rich,” Maddison repeats. “I’ve been wanting to do it for a while, and that shit he pulled on you with the paparazzi was my final straw.”
“We don’t even know if that was him, though.”
“You know that was him. He’s been getting a side cut for tipping off the press for years. I can’t prove it, but we all know it’s true. It’s the only thing that makes sense for why he wants your name plastered in every headline or why reporters always seem to find you.”
I know he’s right. Deep down, I’ve always known, but it’s never affected me all that much. This time, though, it was too far, and not only did it hurt me, but it hurt the person I care about most.
“I know things are different for you right now with needing a new contract, but Logan and I jointly decided for me to cut ties.”
“He’s never fucked with you, though.” My brows furrow in confusion. “You’ve been successful off exactly who you are.”