Chapter Twenty-Four
“Gabe, I—”
Gabe interrupted whatever she was about to say by grabbing the key from her and opening the door himself. He’d hoped this wouldn’t be how it all played out. He hoped that she’d just hang out in his apartment and wait for him and it wouldn’t be true that she was investigating him and the club.
He’d worried that even if she was the one investigating the club that she wouldn't know where it was and he’d still have doubts about who she was. But as he’d followed her here in his car—using his spare key—it had quickly become clear that he didn’t have to worry about that. It also became impossible to deny that everything he thought he knew about Rachel was about to collapse around him. “Go ahead,” he said as he gestured her through the doorway.
She didn’t move, tears streaming down her face as she looked at him, the dark hall, then back at him. “Please, let me explain.”
“What’s there to explain? You came here for a story. It’s in there,” he told her as he pointed inside.
She stared at him for a second before she walked into the hallway that led to the club. It was lined with boxes and skids, intentionally left to look like an abandoned building so that even if someone got this far, they likely wouldn’t see a point in going farther.
Gabe flicked on the light. “It’s at the end of the hall through another set of fire doors.” He was working hard to keep his voice even, controlled. Letting her know how angry he was, how hurt, wasn’t something he was willing to do. He’d shown her enough of himself already, and gotten nothing but lies in return.
“You don’t have to do this,” she said, her voice almost a whisper. “You don’t have to show me anything.”
“Don’t act like you gave me a choice. You brought us here, to this. There’s only going forward from here.”
She swiped at her cheeks with her hand before making her way down the hall. When they arrived at the other set of heavy fire doors, Gabe unlocked them and pushed them open. He paused, steeling himself for what would come next. The reality setting in of what he’d cost everyone associated with The Players’ Club, simply because he’d fallen in love with a girl who’d only pretended to love him back. He heaved the doors open and held them so she could walk through.
Her head swiveled around the space, taking everything in. Gabe joined her, reminding himself how great he’d thought this place was when he first saw it. How great it still was, even though he’d ruined it.
After a few minutes, she turned back to him. “It’s beautiful.”
He felt an eyebrow quirk at that. As if her compliments about the place she was going to destroy with a few taps to a keyboard meant shit now.
She looked abashed, and her eyes darted away from his as she turned her back to him. “I’m sorry,” she croaked.
He pondered that for a moment. “For which part?”
Turning back to him, her eyes found his. “All of it.”
He leaned back against the bar and folded his arms across his chest. “So, now you’ve seen it. Want to interview me about it? Maybe have me give you a list of members so I can completely destroy every shred of credibility I have?”
“I wasn’t going to come in, Gabe. I swear.”
Gabe couldn’t help the harsh laugh that left his throat. “You swear? Are you for real right now? You think you ‘swearing’ means anything to me? You’ve done nothing but lie since the Super Bowl.”
“That isn’t true. It wasn’t all a lie.”
“Do you hear yourself? It wasn’t all a lie? None of it should’ve been a lie.” He straightened and his voice was getting louder with every sentence he spoke despite his trying his best to keep his cool.
“I know. You’re right. You’re so right. But I need you to understand that the story was completely separate from everything else. From how I felt—”
“Goddamn it, I was the story,” he yelled as he slammed his hand down on the bar top. She jumped slightly, and he felt a twinge of remorse for startling her until he remembered that he was the one who’d been betrayed. “The two were never separate. How could they be?”
“Because I didn’t know. I didn’t know you owned the club.”
Gabe scoffed.
“It’s true,” Rachel argued. “Running into you when I got here was a total coincidence. I had no idea you were involved until I saw the bank statement at your house.”
Gabe looked down at the floor and shook his head. This was the type of conversation that could go around in circles for hours. And while Gabe had once thought he’d want to do nothing more than spend hours talking with Rachel, now he was just… tired. Tired of arguing, tired of trying to figure out what the truth was, tired of hurting. It was all too much. “I can’t do this.”
Rachel’s eyes found his, and their red rims showed how sorry she was. Or did they? Maybe it was time Gabe realized that he didn’t know her at all. This woman in front of him was a stranger—a stranger he needed to be done with.
“I’m so sorry, Gabe.”
“I can believe that,” he said on a sigh. “But it doesn’t change anything.” Gesturing toward the exit, Gabe told her, “I think it’s time you left.”
Rachel opened her mouth to reply and then seemed to think better of it. She nodded once and walked to the doors. Still facing them, she said, “For what it’s worth, knowing you has been the best thing that’s happened to me in a long time. Goodbye, Gabe.” She pushed the doors open and was gone before he could reply. Not that he would’ve.
But now, alone in his club with no one to hear but the immortalizations of former players on the walls, he said the last words he’d ever say to her. “Bye, Rachel.”