The Off-Season: A Washington Rampage Novel

by Megan Green

  “So, what’s the plan, Lex? You gonna waste away in here? Hole up like Miss Havisham and pine away your days?”

  “No,” I say, not lifting my head to look at her. “Miss Havisham was the jiltee. I’m the jilter. There’s a difference.”

  Ella sighs. “Must you always be so damn stubborn?”

  “Must you always be so damn nosy? Nobody asked you to come over here and lecture me.”

  “No, but somebody has to. Because you’re too damn hardheaded to figure it out on your own. And, because I love you and you’re my sister, the duty falls on me.”

  “Figure what out? I’m fine, Ella. I just have a headache.”

  “You’re not fine. You haven’t left this house in weeks. And let’s not even talk about the last time you showered. You smell, Lexi. Like, really smell.”

  I point toward the front door. “There’s the exit. Feel free to use it.”

  She grabs my cheeks, surprising me and causing my eyes to pop open. She swings my face toward hers, her eyes hard as she glares at me.

  “Stop being a bitch, Lexi. This isn’t a game. It’s not a joke. It’s your fucking life.”

  I shove her hand away, rubbing my fingers along my aching chin where she gripped me. “I know that, Ella. You think I don’t understand that? I’m the one living it. Does it look like I’m having fun?”

  I gesture to the disaster around me. Ella doesn’t soften though.

  “So, do something about it. Stop lying around and feeling sorry for yourself. Get your ass to Seattle, and fix this mess you’ve made.”

  I slump back against the couch. “It’s not that easy, Ella…”

  “No,” she cuts me off. “It is that easy. I know you’ve got this twisted delusion in your head where you think this is what’s best for him, but believe me when I tell you, it isn’t. I can absolutely guaran-damn-tee you that Ian is just as miserable as you are right now. You guys being apart doesn’t make sense. So, get your ass up, and fix it.”

  “Even if I wanted to, you’re wrong. He isn’t sitting around, wishing we could be together. He wrote me a letter. He’s moving on.”

  I get up from the couch, moving to the small side table in the hallway where I stored Ian’s letter.

  I pull it out and hand it to Ella.

  She slowly unfolds it, giving me a worried look. “Why didn’t you tell me you’d heard from him?”

  I shrug. I don’t tell her it was because it hurt too much to say it out loud.

  Her eyes scan the page, and she’s silent as she reads. Her hand comes up to cover her mouth the closer she gets to the end. And, when she finishes, she lifts her eyes to mine. They’re wet with tears and a sadness I don’t want to see. Because, now, she knows it’s truly over, too.

  “I love you, Lexi,” she starts, her voice cracking on my name. “But, sometimes, you sure are stupid.”

  My mouth falls open, shock flooding through me at her words. “What the hell, Ella?”

  First, she reads what is quite possibly the end of my life, and then she calls me stupid?

  She lifts the letter. “This? This isn’t him telling you he’s moving on.”

  “Um, how do you explain the part where he says exactly that then?”

  She shakes her head. “He said he’s going to try to let you go. But, Lexi, did you read the rest of it at all?”

  “Yeah, I’ve read it a few times.” Understatement of the century.

  “I know you’ve read it. But did you read it?”

  I shoot her a scathing look. “Can you stop talking in riddles and get to the damn point already? I told you, I have a headache.”

  “He loves you, Lexi. And he’s practically begging you to come to him. He doesn’t give a shit about your past. And I believe him when he says he’d give it all up for you. That you’re the most important thing in his life.”

  “He shouldn’t have to give it up for me though.”

  “So, don’t ask him to. He says you’re worth it. You’re worth giving up his dreams, his career, his life, so he can be with you. But you’re telling me he’s not worth the same? You wouldn’t even have to give anything up. You only have to deal with being in the public eye a little more than you’d like. He’s willing to drop everything for you. But you can’t even handle a little public scrutiny?”

  I shrink into myself, my eyes falling to the floor. When she says it like that, it makes it sound so awful. Like I gave up at the first sign of trouble.

  I guess that is exactly what I did.

  “It’s too late, Ells. I’ve hurt him too much.”

  She reaches out and places her hand on my shoulder, holding up the letter again with her other. “This tells me it isn’t. He still wants you, Lexi. He said it himself. You’re his person. The one he wants to spend his life with. That doesn’t change in a few weeks. He put the ball back in your court. Now, it’s up to you to decide whether it’s time to take the shot.”

  I quirk an eyebrow at her. “Was that a basketball reference? You realize he plays baseball, right?”

  She waves a hand. “Tomato, tomahto. The point still remains. Are you going to swing for the fences? Or sit safely in the dugout, watching the game play out in front of you?”

  I smile at her new attempt. “Much better.”

  And I know she’s right. Ian poured his heart out to me. Now, it’s up to me to do the same. I made the mistake of letting him go once. I won’t do it again. If he’s willing to fight for me, then I have to be willing to do the same. Like he said, love can’t be one-sided. I’ve been holding back for far too long. It’s time for me to get up to bat.

  “So, what are you going to do, Lexi?” Ella asks.

  A smile spreads across my face. “Hand me my laptop. I’ve got an idea.”

  Chapter 29

  Tag

  I stand, smiling for the camera, doing my best to look like the pretty puppet they want me to be. All the while, I’m thinking about how much truth there is to the saying, Life goes on.

  It’s been more than a week since I sent that letter to Lexi. There’s no hiding from the fact that, at this point, she’s received it. And either she read it and didn’t give a shit or she threw it straight into the trash. I guess I’ll never know for sure because I still haven’t heard a damn peep out of her.

  Yet here I am, shirtless and wearing nothing but a pair of trackpants, acting like my life didn’t come to a screeching halt less than a month ago. Because, regardless of how much you might not want it to, regardless of how much it hurts…life truly does go on. It moves forward, hurtling through time whether you like it or not.

  “Now, turn to the left. Bend your arm up over your head, and look down to the right. Yes, yes, like that,” the photographer shouts over the sounds of the room around us.

  Everywhere I look, there are people in motion—a constant flow of raised voices, frenzied steps, and stress. It’s fucking exhausting. Especially when all I want to do is curl up in my bed and sleep.

  But Ray worked way too long and hard to book this gig for me to blow it now. When he called and told me the deal with Nike was back on, he wasn’t even able to contain his excitement, giggling like a schoolgirl and telling me this was it. This was what was going to get me back on top for good.

  Looking around at the people surrounding me, I’m not so sure. I mean, how is taking pictures of me in front of a green screen going to sell anybody anything?

  A woman steps in front of me, spritzing my face and chest with water to give the appearance of sweat. I move to wipe the dripping mess from my chin, but Robert—the photographer—screams at me to stop.

  “No! Don’t touch it. That’s going to drive people crazy. Millions of women across the world will soak their panties at the fantasy of being able to lick that off.”

  I shoot him an incredulous look. “That’s disgusting.”

  Robert shrugs. “Maybe to you. But, believe me, nobody else will think so. Now, tilt your head back, and let me see that throat.”

  I drop my
head with a groan, letting him take pictures of my Adam’s apple for God knows what reason. I’m about to ask when lunch is because holy fuck do I need a break when my phone rings.

  I straighten, pulling the phone from my pocket amid the protests of Robert and all of his assistants.

  When I see Ray’s name on the screen, I hold up a finger and turn toward the door. “Give me a minute. I’ve gotta take this.”

  As soon as I’m out of earshot, I press the phone to my ear. “You owe me big time for this, buddy. Where the fuck are you anyway? These people are driving me fucking batty. If Robert says one more goddamn thing about my junk, I’m going to punch him right in his.”

  Ray is silent through my tirade, not even laughing once at my unease, so I continue, “Do you know he won’t let anyone call him Bob? Or even Rob? It’s Robert. Who the fuck goes by Robert anymore?”

  Still, nothing.

  “Ray? You there?” I ask even though I know he is. He might not be speaking, but I can hear the bastard breathing. “You call to torment me? This’d better not be you calling to tell me you’re not coming. I’ll kick your ass.”

  “You need to pull up The Score,” he finally says, referencing the news site that douche bag Paul Sharp writes for.

  “Why the fuck do I need to do that? I don’t give a shit what that asshole has to say about me now.”

  He’s been surprisingly quiet about me ever since Ray leaked the info about my donation. Guess he hasn’t found any more dirt worth digging into lately.

  “Just do it, Ian,” Ray intones and disconnects the call.

  What the fuck?

  I look at the phone as I pull it away from my face. He didn’t exactly sound pissed, so whatever Sharp wrote can’t be that bad, right? But why the secrecy? Why the fuck couldn’t he tell me what it was about and save me some time? Isn’t that what I pay him for—to handle this shit for me?

  But, when I hear the sound of Robert’s voice on the other side of the door, I duck into the bathroom and lock the door behind me. At least reading this bullshit article will buy me a little more time before I have to go back in there.

  I open the browser on my phone and quickly type in the website. Sharp’s article is the first thing I see when the screen loads.

  What Happens in the Off-Season

  By Paul Sharp

  I raise an eyebrow, wondering what in the hell has gotten into Ray. This doesn’t even sound like it has anything to do with me. What has his panties in a twist?

  By the time I finish the first sentence, I know that I’m wrong.

  I’ve certainly made no secret of my dislike for Tag Taggart. Over the past several months, I’ve made it my goal to bring you the truth about his character, providing as many inside stories and updates as I could find following the charges brought against him. When those charges were dropped, I was convinced he’d gotten away with his crimes, and it only further fueled my fire.

  A few weeks ago, I brought you the story of Alexis Barnes, the woman Taggart had started seeing. I’d gotten the first look at the new couple, and when I’d dug a little deeper, I’d hit pay dirt. I’d literally struck career gold, and I hadn’t stopped to consider the consequences before I broke that story.

  Today, I regret that decision.

  I can’t tell you why I have such strong feelings against Taggart. I’m not quite sure myself. And, while he’s still not my favorite person on the planet, I have to take this opportunity to apologize.

  So, I’m sorry.

  A few days ago, I received an e-mail from the same Alexis Barnes I wrote about in my article. It didn’t take long for me to realize she wasn’t the person I had made her out to be. And it didn’t take long for her to convince me that Taggart wasn’t half the villain I had always considered him.

  I retract my previous statements regarding Barnes and Taggart. The damage is done, and there’s nothing I can do to reverse that. Except maybe let her tell you the same story she told me.

  Without further ado… Alexis Barnes.

  My mouth drops open when I get to the break in the page. I’m not sure how to process all this information. Lexi contacted him? After everything he’d done to hurt her? And, while I always knew Sharp seemed to have some vendetta against me, seeing him admit to it, seeing the words in print, has validated my beliefs. Would the bastard be fired now?

  But the thing that baffles me most is the fact that the following words aren’t Sharp’s at all.

  They are from Lexi.

  Are they for me? Or is she simply trying to defend herself, to pick up the pieces after I shattered her entire world?

  There is only one way to find out.

  My name is Lexi, and I want to start off by saying I’m not a writer. I’m not good with words. I prefer to keep things to myself, something I’ve come to perfect over the last few years. But it turns out, silence is no longer an option. So, here it is—the story of how I fell in love this off-season.

  By now, you’ve heard the story of my past. You know about the night I drove drunk and forever changed the future of a sweet young girl and her family. I spent time in rehab after that accident, followed by six months probation, and community service. And I agree with you. I got off easy.

  But I can assure you, the rest of what you read was not true. Since the night of the accident, I have not touched a drop of alcohol. I live with the guilt of what I did every single second of every single day. Not a moment goes by that I don’t think of her. I’m not the crazy party girl I was made out to be. I no longer drink at all. I don’t go to bars. I don’t go to parties. I don’t do anything, except hang out with my sister and attempt to fix up my old, run-down lake house. And think of those I’ve hurt.

  That is, until he walked into my life.

  You all know who I’m talking about.

  A few months ago, a man jumped out of the freezing lake behind my house and forever changed my life. With a single smirk and a smile, I was a goner.

  I tried to keep him out. I told myself I didn’t deserve happiness, not after what I did. I pushed him away every chance I got, yet, still, he persisted.

  Ian Taggart changed my life.

  He took my broken, shattered soul and started the process of putting it back together. And, while I’ll never be completely whole again, I can say with absolute certainty that I have been mended. Ian took the pieces of my heart and sewed them back together. It’s messy, the stitches loose in places and fraying in others, and while there are still a few small holes, it’s there. The empty place inside my chest has once again been filled. And I owe it all to him.

  I fell for Ian Taggart during the weeks we spent working on my house. His quiet acceptance of my quirks. His never-ending need to try to make me smile. The way he didn’t ask questions he could tell I didn’t want to answer. He was just…there. And, one day, I realized I didn’t want him to be anywhere else. I didn’t want to be anywhere else.

  Ian brought me back to life. He showed me that it was okay to move on, to enjoy my life, despite my past mistakes. He taught me how to love again and how to accept love in return.

  Until I forced him away.

  The night I chose to drive drunk will forever be the biggest mistake of my life. But the day I told Ian to go, told him that I didn’t love or want him anymore, will always be right up there with it. I was scared. Not just for myself. But also for Ian. I was afraid of what being with me would do to his career. I was afraid I was going to ruin him. So, I told him the things I knew he needed to hear in order to save him. I lied through my teeth, gutting not only Ian, but also myself in the process.

  And it worked. Ian went back to Seattle, and I’ve tried to move on with my life.

  Only there is no life without Ian.

  Since the day he left, I’ve fallen right back into that dark hole where I started. I haven’t started drinking again, but that doesn’t change the fact that I’m still hiding from my life. Old habits die hard.

  But I want to bury them once and for all.

>   So here it goes…

  Ian, I understand if you never forgive me. I hurt you, and for that, I can never apologize enough.

  But I just had to tell you one last time.

  I love you.

  The day you walked into my life was the first day of my new life.

  I’m not the same person I was the day I met you.

  I’m better.

  I’ll never be perfect. And I’ll always feel remorse for the hurt I’ve caused another family.

  But I deserve to live.

  And, if you’ll still have me, I’d like to do it with you.

  You know where to find me.

  Lexi

  My fingers are numb by the time I finish reading the story, my grip on the phone so tight, I’m surprised it hasn’t exploded into a million pieces. My chest aches as I gasp for breath, and I realize that I’m crying. I don’t know when it started, but the wetness soaking my cheeks is undeniable.

  Throughout the past few weeks, since the day I left Lexi, I haven’t let myself shed a single tear.

  I let them fall, wiping them as they reach my chin before they can slide down on my bare chest. I think of the disappointment that would be on Robert’s face if he could see me wiping them away. But I quickly shake it off.

  I grab a few paper towels from the dispenser, wetting them in the sink and using them to clean the disaster that is my face. Once I’m satisfied that I look semi-human, I open the door.

  And stroll right out of the building.

  Chapter 30

  Lexi

  I look around the room, taking in my nearly finished living room. Since the day Ella came over and I made my decision to contact that reporter, I’ve thrown myself into fixing up my house with renewed vigor. It takes some of the sting away over not hearing from Ian.

  Sometimes.

  It’s been almost a week since the article ran, and there hasn’t been a word. Not a single phone call, text, or e-mail. Not a letter. Nothing.