They drove me to games and spent copious amounts of money on holiday programs to develop my skills. They were, and always have been, my biggest supporters.
“You’ve never been one to give up, Olly. So, you’ve hit a roadblock, that’s why detours were invented. Book your flight, get your butt up to Colorado, and if you need us, you know we’ll fly up in a heartbeat.”
“I know, Ma. Thanks for the chat. I better go. Love you.”
“Love you, too, my son.”
I hang up the phone feeling extra homesick. My parents were never too far away, and even my annoying sisters were usually chasing my tail. But being here, thousands of miles from a place I’ve always called home is enough to throw me into a major funk.
Over the next few hours, I bum around town, walking aimlessly around Sunset Boulevard before making the annoying drive through peak-hour traffic back home.
I told Chance not to expect me home—a late invite to some party in the Hills held by an old school friend who married a rich yank and moved here a few years back.
But I wasn’t in the mood, so I opted to go home instead.
Stuck in a sea of red lights, bumper to bumper, I instantly regret leaving so late. The traffic in Los Angeles is beyond a joke. So many lanes, back-to-back cars, all desperate to get somewhere in a hurry.
It’s just after six when I pull into the driveway. I turn the Jeep off and sit quietly as I close my eyes to gather my thoughts. I have to adjust my mindset. I need to focus on my next step and not the hindrance. The more I try to talk myself out of this slump, the more I fail miserably.
I need a distraction, a big one at that.
Damn! I should have gone to that party, or, maybe, I could convince Chance to head out for a beer tonight.
Crap! Adele’s babysitting.
I don’t mind Adele, she’s a cool chick. Very similar to my sister in a lot of ways.
Rory. She keeps to herself, never says too much, and allows her goofy brother to always steal the spotlight in the room.
I walk through the hall, stopping just shy of the living room to see Gabriella sitting on the floor with CJ. I haven’t thought about her since this morning and our discussion about her confused feelings. She doesn’t seem to notice me, and with a burning curiosity, I hide behind the pillar, watching her play by singing some song to CJ making him giggle.
Soft wisps of copper hair sweep past her ears, caressing the skin of her neck and falling against her shoulders. Gabriella’s face radiates in delight. Her eyes dance as she smiles watching CJ sing along with his cute babble.
I catch her attention, and she waves with a shy, “Hey.”
“Hey,” I respond, trying my best to ignore how she’s slowly begun to tear up the walls inside of me. “No Adele?”
“She’s sick. Chance and Aubrey went out for their anniversary date. You know, adult time? Hence, why I’m designated babysitter for the night.” She ends with a slight chuckle, trailing off until silence falls between us, and the only noise is the annoying sound of Paw Patrol in the background. Yes, I learned what Paw Patrol was after spending numerous mornings with CJ. I may even have the opening credits remembered by heart. Not that I care to admit that to her.
I wasn’t expecting her to be here.
Here, inside the house, alone.
“You’re staying here tonight?”
She answers with a nod. “Well, yeah. CJ can’t exactly stay by himself.”
Fuck—I’m screwed.
I don’t say another word, heading back to my room and throwing myself on my bed. I’m beyond exhausted—mentally, physically, and emotionally. The thought of being in the same house as Gabriella does nothing to cure my need to be inside her. My emotions bounce back and forth between today’s let down and this thing between us which has become a struggle to control.
I need to get out of here.
Blow off steam.
Get her off my mind.
Get everything off my mind so I can fucking think straight once and for all.
An hour later, dressed in a pair of jeans and white buttoned shirt, I grab my wallet and head out of my room.
She’s in the kitchen preparing a bottle and holding CJ in her other arm. He’s resisting, as usual, shaking his head and saying, “No bed.”
Our eyes meet. Her gaze shifting down toward my feet then back up again.
“I’m heading out.”
“Oh, okay,” she mumbles. Her smile slips, and an almost hurt expression appears as she shakes the bottle in her hand. “Have fun.”
“I always do.”
I can see the pain in her eyes, and immediately, I feel like a fucking arrogant arsehole for saying it. I need to rid myself of her, I mean, what’s the goddamn point if she’s going to keep me dangling on a string all because of Prince Charming.
We are two very different people, raised completely opposite. The only thing we have in common is this place—Hermosa Beach. So what if she makes me laugh. So what if she challenges me more than any other woman has. This isn’t the time to start a relationship, let alone with someone who can’t figure out who the hell she wants.
Without a plan or buddy to hang out with, I make my lonesome way toward the pub we hung out at when we first met. For the first hour, I sit at the bar, drowning my sorrows in a pint while watching a rerun of some baseball game.
“It’s more fun to drink when you have company,” a silky voice beside me says.
I turn around to see an attractive woman standing beside me, playing with her martini glass as her lips scrap against the glass. She’s in a tight white dress,
