I opened my eyes, and the sunlight was way too bright. The room was lighter than it usually was when I woke up. It was late.

I rolled over to check my phone on the nightstand, and my head throbbed. My stomach rolled, and I groaned. It was eleven.

Dammit.

I was naked and lying on top of the covers with only the one corner pulled over me. I frowned, trying to remember the night before. It came rushing back at me like a wave crashing onto the shore of my subconscious, and I sat up.

“Sadie?” I called out.

My head protested at jolting upright so quickly, and I pressed my palm against my forehead. My skin was feverish.

“Sadie?” I called again.

She wasn’t next to me. I leaned forward and found only my own clothes in a pile on the floor. Shit. Had she left?

I got up, trying to find my balance when I stood up, and I regretted every drop of alcohol I’d had the night before. I swayed on my feet, and my stomach rolled, but I wasn’t going to run to the bathroom until I knew where Sadie was.

I found boxers and pulled them on. Somehow, walking through my house naked with a hangover seemed pathetic, even if it was my own place, and I was alone.

“Where are you?” I called again, but my voice traveled through the empty house, and I got no reply. On the counter in the kitchen, I found a note.

I had to leave. I’m sorry.

S

Fucking perfect. My stomach rolled again, and this time there was no reason to hold back. I ran to the guest bathroom and threw up, hugging the toilet, feeling like a miserable wretch.

I was suddenly glad she wasn’t here to witness this. But that didn’t mean I was glad she had left.

When I was done throwing up, I had time to think about the note. She’d really left. I wasn’t sure when. I didn’t like it that she’d run out on me. Somehow, it felt like we were back to square one. Again. For the third time now, or was it the fourth?

My phone rang, and I made my way up to the room as fast as I could, considering my condition. I answered the phone, hoping I hadn’t missed the call.

“You’re awake,” Sadie said, and her voice was dull.

“You left,” I said.

It didn’t sound accusing. Thank God.

“I didn’t know what I was feeling. I needed to think. I guess I don’t have to worry about that now. The world has decided what I am.”

“What?” I asked.

I had no idea what she was talking about.

“McMurray’s Latest Fling Sneaks Out on Him,” she said, and I realized she was reading a headline to me. The latest headline.

“Is that what they’re saying?” I asked.

“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” she asked, and she was bitter. Sarcastic and bitter. “It seems like there’s nothing I can do around you without sounding like trash.”

I shook my head. “That’s not true,” I said.

“Really? Have you read the article? Probably not.”

She was right. I learned a long time ago not to read anything the tabloid blogs said about me. It was rarely true but there was nothing I could do to change it and they would just twist any of my words when I tried to defend myself.

“Here,” she said, as if needing me to listen to her. “I’ll read it to you.”

“Sadie, I know it probably says a bunch of crazy stuff but I really don’t…”

“McMurray has always chosen his companions so carefully that his love life remains mostly a secret, with many speculating he may be more into guys than girls. But even the Sharks’ star player isn’t always lucky in love,” she charged ahead, cutting me off.

I rolled my eyes but let her continue. It was obviously important to her that I hear this.

“His latest fling made it clear she didn’t care who found out about his love life, or anything but herself,” she continued. “She is only there for one thing, sneaking out on him before the night is out, in a classic hit and run. Our favorite player is decidedly not gay but until now he has known where to look for fun and keep it hidden, so he’s obviously not a long-term guy. Since he has never been in a relationship, this is obviously not the first woman to run out on him, and we’re guessing it won’t be the last. It leaves us wondering if his taste is really to be trusted.”

I blinked. They were making it sound like she was just another whore I picked up, not someone I chose for something more.

“I especially love the part where they said I’m not the first, and I won’t be the last. Real classy.”

“That’s not fair,” I said. “It’s pure speculation. They just make stuff up because they don’t know what’s been going on with me or why they could never seem to catch me with a string of women like other players. They basically admit that themselves in the article.”

“Uhh…”

She started and then stopped, as if she wanted to believe me but didn’t want to let herself be too trusting. She looked at me, as if she wanted to believe me.

“Sadie,” I said. “I know it’s hard to trust me when you are just getting to know me again. But why believe a trashy tabloid site over me? Have I given you any reason to believe I’d lie to you?”

I imagined her shaking her head, as if what I said was sinking in. But then she was silent for long enough that I was scared I’d said something wrong.

“Sorry,” she finally relpied. “It’s just hard to grasp… all of this. Not just everything that has happened in our past. But also the fact that you’re a professional football player who is under a microscope and that everything I do will be judged.”

“I know. Look, please can we meet? Let’s talk about this.”

She laughed, and it wasn’t a good laugh. “What, so they can write more things about me that aren’t true?”

“I just want to fix this and make you feel better,” I said. “I didn’t mean for this to happen. I didn’t lure you to my house with the intention of giving them something to write about.”

She sighed. “I hear what you’re saying, Brian, and I know it’s not your fault. But I can’t do this. I don’t want to meet up with you. I don’t want to talk about what happened or try and feel better. It’s becoming clear that this is a mistake.”

I was losing her. I had to think fast on my feet, so I said the first thing that came to mind. I’d do anything to keep her this time.