Page 28 of Rulebreaker (Gamebreakers #4)

TWENTY-EIGHT

Lily

The press is out in full force when I land in Nashville, and I’m glad that Desi had the foresight to hire extra security for me.

“Lily, does your husband know about you and Atlas Delarosa?”

“Lily, is Atlas coming to join you here?”

I keep my head down and move directly toward the waiting limo.

Fuck.

This is the part that’s going to be tough to navigate. The part I thought Atlas and the others would have my back for. Of course, if you need someone to have your back, you have to actually tell them what’s going on. And aside from Sandy, no one knows anything.

Guilt and shame and frustration wind their way through my gut, leaving me lightheaded and nauseous as the limo inches through traffic.

This is my worst nightmare, the entire reason I avoided dating–and falling in love–all these years.

I knew it was a risk but for some stupid reason–I trusted him. Trusted him to be the man I thought he was. Instead, he’s like everyone else.

I’m not blameless.

I should have told him–no doubt about that–but he wouldn’t even listen. Wouldn’t let me explain the situation, or how afraid I was that this exact scenario would play out.

And it hurts.

So much more than I thought it would.

My phone is blowing up with messages but I can’t muster up the energy to read them. I see the names–Jade and Sandy and Desi--but what is there to say? Yes, I’m married. Yes, I lied to everyone about it. Yes, Atlas and I broke up.

Did we ever.

I’ve never seen fury in his eyes like when he swept everything off the table. And yet, I wasn’t afraid. Not physically. Emotionally I was terrified, but even in the midst of our argument, I knew he wouldn’t put his hands on me.

I almost wish he had, so I could feel something other than guilt and shame and soul-crushing heartbreak. I’ve never felt anything like this before, a kind of pain that makes it hard to think, walk… breathe .

How the hell am I going to put one foot in front of the other going forward? Without Atlas, my life feels empty. Meaningless.

Dammit.

I’m not one of those women who falls apart over a man. Whose broken hearts break everything else. I’m strong, rich, and independent. Stan found that out the hard way.

But Atlas isn’t Stan.

I loved Stan but was never in love with him, and now that I know the difference, how the hell do I go back to a time before I knew what true love was?

“Ms. Maxwell, there’s press camped outside the gate,” my driver says.

I sigh.

“That’s fine. It’s no secret I’m going to see him. Just move past them. And call ahead to make sure security keeps them out.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

I keep my head down as we glide through the gate of Stan’s massive compound.

I haven’t lived here in a long time but I still remember my awe the first time we drove through the gate.

I was truly a wide-eyed innocent from bumfuck Texas, experiencing a whole new world.

I truly thought living in a big house like this, with my rich, established husband, was the answer to all my dreams.

There’s no one dumber than a broke, naive country girl.

Eighteen-year-old me was such a dumbass.

“Ms. Maxwell.” Stan’s longtime housekeeper Dora greets me at the door. “It’s good to see you.”

“Thank you, Dora.” I meet her gaze wearily. “How is he?”

She shakes her head. “Not good. The doctor says it will be any time now. Would you like to see him?”

Not really.

“Of course.” I nod, putting down my things and following her to the solarium. It used to be Stan’s favorite room in the house, and when he got sick, we transformed it into his bedroom.

When the early-onset dementia hit, it was brutal.

One day he was fine and the next Dora found him wandering around the yard naked, looking for the bathroom.

We’d just separated when it happened, and at that point, he was in no condition for any kind of legal battle.

So the only humane thing to do was wait out the prenup.

His attorney and longtime friend refused to budge on that, so even though I’ve handled almost all of Stan’s expenses and care the last eight years, I still couldn’t get a divorce without losing half of my earnings–and I’ll be damned if I let the money-hungry friend who’s inheriting his estate take half of everything I’ve worked my ass off to have.

The man on the bed is unrecognizable–pale and gaunt, with tufts of unkempt white hair on his head.

Sweet Jesus, is this the same man I married a decade ago?

The thing is, he’s not a bad person. He treated me well and I wouldn’t be where I am without him.

We both understood our marriage was a mistake relatively soon, so he didn’t argue when I asked for a separation.

The plan was for him to continue managing my career and we would eventually make a decision about the marriage.

Neither of us expected him to get sick and for the type of dementia he has to work so fast. There was no time for us to discuss contingencies, his mental capacity diminished that quickly. Leaving me to carry the burden of both our marriage and his care.

Originally, we kept the marriage a secret because it was better for my career for me to be the sweet, single, up and coming twenty-year-old country singer. A husband, especially one forty years my senior, would ruin the image we wanted to portray, and Stan was nothing if not a savvy businessman.

And now he’s been reduced to nothing but a shell of who he once was.

No family to speak of, never had children, and about to die alone.

Except for the wife who left him .

I sink into the chair next to his bed and the hospice nurse quietly slips out.

“Hi, Stan,” I say softly, reaching for one of his hands and holding it between both of mine. “It’s me, Lily. How are you? Silly question, I guess.” I gently stroke the back of his hand, wondering if he has any awareness at all or if he’s already essentially gone.

Sadness creeps in, settling over me like a dark, heavy blanket.

Someday, this could be me.

Alone.

No one to love or take care of me beyond doctors and nurses.

No kids or spouse at my side. Not even any friends.

Stan devoted his life to work and now that the end is imminent, he has nothing to show for it except a young protege who couldn’t love him and a money-hungry attorney just waiting for him to die.

It’s incredibly unfair.

And it occurs to me that if I continue to prioritize my career, I could end up the same way.

I thought Atlas would change my future but I should have known better. It seems like romantic happiness has never been in the cards for me.

“I met someone,” I say when I can’t stand the silence or my own dark thoughts for another second. “I thought he loved me but we wound up breaking each other’s hearts. I guess it’s my own fault for trusting him. I thought we had a future… something solid. Something to look forward to.”

“You… deserve… that.” His voice is a raspy croak that makes my head shoot up.

“Stan?” I gape at him. I can’t remember the last time we had a real conversation. “What do you need?” I ask quickly. “Should I call the nurse or– ”

“Shh.” He squeezes my hand. “It won’t be… long now. I can feel it. Just sit and talk to me. I’d like it if… your voice is the last thing I hear before I go.”

Tears puddle in my eyes but I nod. “Okay. What do you want me to talk about?”

“Tell me about your… young man.”

I manage to smile through my tears. “He’s… his name is Atlas. He’s gorgeous and successful and a really good man.”

“So what happened?”

He’s been a victim of his own mind for years but now that he’s suddenly lucid we’re having a conversation about the man in my life?

“I didn’t tell him I was married. He’s not happy about it.”

Not happy is an understatement.

Hurt.

Angry.

Frustrated.

Much like I am.

“You want me to talk to him?”

I force another watery smile. “That would be interesting.”

“I’m sorry, Elizabeth.”

“Don’t worry about me,” I whisper. “I’ll be just fine.”

“Tired.”

“Rest,” I say. “I’m going to be okay.”

“Fight for… him,” he says, his voice firmer than before. “For your future… promise me.”

What on earth do I say to that?

“I promise.”

His eyes have been closed this whole time but they open now and he meets my gaze without hesitation. “Don’t let Harrison take a dime from you–hear me?” Harrison is his attorney-friend, the same guy who’s made it impossible for me to finalize our divorce.

I chuckle despite the circumstances. “Oh, believe me–I won’t.”

“Just like I taught you.” He lets out a sigh that turns into a cough. “I’m ready, Elizabeth.”

Tears spill down my cheeks and I’m helpless to stop them.

I honestly didn’t think it would be so hard, but I also didn’t expect him to wake up.

“Don’t…cry. It’s my time.” His voice fades at the end and he gently squeezes my hand.

Then he lets out a long, low breath, his eyes close, and the monitor he’s hooked up to lets out a soft but distinct beep.

The hospice nurse rushes in, leans over Stan, and shakes her head. She slowly straightens up and turns off the machine before glancing at me. “He’s gone, Ms. Maxwell. I’m sorry.”

I nod, dipping my head and letting the tears fall unchecked.

Dammit.

I hate to cry but it seems like that’s all I’ve done the last day or so.

I’m not even sure who or what I’m crying over–the death of a man I stopped loving a long time ago or the death of the love I thought I found with Atlas.