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Jacob
Iblink awake, staring up at the ceiling of Gabi’s childhood bedroom.
Everything here is smaller, like stepping into a time capsule of her life. My feet dangle over the edge of the bed, an uncomfortable reminder that no matter how much I yearn to fit into her world seamlessly, there are parts where I simply won’t fit.
I turn, reaching for Gabi, expecting to find her warm presence beside me, but my hand touches only cool, empty sheets.
A jolt of surprise—or maybe it's panic—runs through me.
My heart drums a little faster as I sit up, scanning the room. The walls are plastered with posters of pop bands that were probably crushes of hers once upon a time, and there’s a shelf loaded with trophies and old teddy bears.
Cute. Nostalgic. But not helpful right now.
Where the hell could she have gone?
Slipping out of the bed and securing the nearest bath towel around my waist, I glance at the alarm clock on her bedside table. It's barely dawn, the first light of day peeking through the pastel curtains.
Padding across the room, I head out into the hallway. As I step onto the cream-colored carpet and down the stairs, memories of last night flood back.
Her laughter. Her wide eyes. The sweet, excruciating intensity of holding her.
It's only hours later, but there's an emptiness that exists within my arms, an incompletion that tells every fiber of my being that only one person can fill the gap.
There's a Gabi-sized hole between my hands, and I need to find her before I go insane.
And speaking of insane...
I look into the kitchen. Evidence of last night's lasagna-making session is still scattered across the counter--some rogue bits of pasta, a half-chopped onion bulb, and a neglected pot on the stove.
Luckily, the stove is off. But the rest...
Shit. The thought of Gabi's Nonna Chiara having to come back to this mess makes my stomach churn.
I quickly grab a sponge and start scrubbing away at the counter, determined to clean up before she returns. But as I reach for the onion, I see something that makes me freeze.
My phone. I'd abandoned it on the counter while we were cooking and getting caught up in each other. On the screen is a message from my teammate Halstead in big fat letters:
"BRO. Did you see this?"
My heart rate picks up as I open the message and see a link to an article.
My eyes widen as I read the title. "Anonymous Source Exposes Jackhammer's Fake Affair!"
My throat tightens, jaw clenching I read the first sentence: "It seems that Chicago Blades superstar and right winger Jacob ‘Jackhammer' Walker 's supposed relationship with up-and-coming PR wiz Gabriella De Luca was all for show, according to an anonymous source close to the couple."
Shit. Shit. Shit.
"All for show."
"Anonymous source."
My mind scrambles for an explanation. But I can't think of anything that could explain this away.
My fists clench in anger as I continue reading the article, which goes into detail about how Gabi and I were nothing but a PR stunt orchestrated by my team's management to boost fan engagement.
As if Gabi and I weren't under enough pressure as it is.
Now we have to deal with this shitstorm.
