Chapter 7.

Lukasz POV

So, I'm fucked.

Wrecked.

Done.

I've been a fool for thinking I could somehow stay away from her. Or what's worse, be close to her without hurting, without breaking, without feeling.

Just today I almost slipped again.

I wanted to tell her... so bad.

Tell her what, though, that I'm in love?

Am I in love with her?

I can't be.

I lost my chance when I let Mats have her. I have to live with that. I've been living with that for the past four years!

I knew something was wrong as soon as she answered the phone. I debated with myself whether to call her or not. I didn't think much of Mats' message at first. He said he needed to vent, that he wanted a drink. I thought he was spending time with his brother, so I didn't call him back until I was done with the medics. I was going to turn him down anyway, since I was tired and sore, but he never answered.

That's when I got worried. I wouldn't have called Cecilia otherwise — her voice does things to me.

I didn't even realize I had changed directions by the mere sound of her broken voice, and I was no longer driving home but to Mats' place instead.

When she hung up on me, my world stopped. I just knew she was hurt. I had to see her. I had to make sure she was okay.

I was just about to knock when she swung the door open. Once my eyes settled on the blood soaked towel wrapped around the palm of her hand, nothing else mattered — I had to get her help.

I didn't think, couldn't really imagine, what taking care of her would do to me.

I just wanted more.

When I touched her, I wanted to hold her.

When she leaned on to me, I wanted to carry her in my arms.

When she held on to my hand, I wanted to kiss her.

Every single time, I wanted more.

But I can't have more.

It's never going to be okay for me to go after her. It's why I hadn't said anything in the first place. Mats is my friend, my teammate, my brother. This would hurt him. I could never do it. That's not me. I'm not that guy.

He loves her.

I've never seen him so out of control as he was tonight. Even under his drunken state, he asked me to take care of her — to drive her home and make sure she was okay.

Not that he needed to ask, really. The decision had already been made. What other choice did I have? Take her to my apartment? I did not trust myself enough at the moment, and rightly so… I barely managed as it was.

I came so close; I wanted to kiss her so bad, and I almost did. I almost kissed her.

Her! His girl!

I had to physically restrain myself with both hands braced against the door frame to barely remain in control. She made it harder, every time she came closer, digging for answers, trying to get it out of me.

God!

I bang my fist on the steering wheel as I drive back to Dortmund, shifting on my seat, trying to find a position in which my hip doesn't hurt. It's all in vain. With each passing week it has become harder to deny the fact that my hip has been getting worse. Now it's not only painful after intense games, but generally uncomfortable all the time.

I considered it briefly, before offering to drive her, how bad would sitting in the car for four hours be. I knew it would hurt, but having her stay with me — in my apartment, in my couch or in my bed — while trying to restrict myself from saying too much, or doing too much, would have definitely hurt more.

I can't stay away from her, that much I know. I just need... I need a way to deal with all this — to not make stupid mistakes, to keep myself under control.

To not want to invite her to stay over at my place, for example!

I'm good at that, at controlling myself.

I am better than this. I have to be. Today was just an off day.

It just caught me out of guard, her being hurt. Her tears, her gripping onto my hand like that, as if she needed me. All I wanted was to be there for here, in an honest, no ulterior motive, kind of way. But I was tired, exhausted, needing someone myself. I couldn't think straight.

God, I still can't. I'm just so tired, I can't think. I can't get the smell of her hair from my head. Her eyes... I can't...

I basically had to beg her, plead her, not to ask me to stay. There's nothing I would have denied her tonight. If she had asked me to stay with her, I don't know how or if I would have been able to handle that at all.

With a groan, I run the palm of my hand down my face, trying to get a grip on myself. There's no use to this. I still have two hours of driving ahead of me, with nothing to do but think.

She left him.

She actually left him, packed her bags, took the dog with her.

I don't know how I feel about that yet. Even though I still missed a heartbeat or two when she told me, I can't say I didn't see it coming.

He's taken her for granted for the longest time. I know because I've sit on the sidelines and watched it happen. Of course he loves her. There's no doubt in my mind that he does. But the way he has been with her… the way he has treated her lately, that's not how you treat a woman like Cecilia. That's not how you treat a woman. Period.

She gave so much to him, everything really. She just had enough. She deserves this opportunity, and I hope it goes well for her in Munich.

All this time she has been here, right under my nose. I've always had the chance to just be her friend. Instead, I held back, avoided her, too afraid to be near her with all of these unanswered feelings swirling inside of me.

And now she's leaving...

So soon...

Maybe I knew she'd take the job in Munich — or I hoped she did — and I am so proud of her for doing it. But I guess I didn't think how it would completely eradicate her from my life.

I wasn't at all ready for that.

It took me by surprise — just completely unexpected that she would leave so suddenly. I had no time to prepare. No time to react.

Taking everything into consideration, I guess I did okay.

Granted I almost slipped, but I didn't. She's back home and safe, and I'm on my way as well.

The sun is starting to come out when I make it back to Dortmund. I check on Mats first, and he is passed out on his couch exactly where I left him. I try to tell him Cecilia is home and okay, but I don't think he listens. So I finally head home and collapse in my bed. An intense week is approaching quickly, and we have the league and the second leg of quarterfinals against Malaga to get through.

I hope Mats can pull it together in time, and that the Cecilia situation doesn't affect him too much. As for me, I hope I can manage to somehow keep her as my friend. I know it's a stretch, but one thing at a time, I guess.

~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~