Sin Shot: Vegas Crush #2

by Miller, Raine

  "It's hard being in love, isn't it, G? Hard worrying about someone other than ourselves."

  "I can't tell if you're being sarcastic or not."

  "I’m not. And I am. It's both things really. I understand how this feels. Remember how I fell on my face for Holly just last year? It changes things. It changes you.” He pauses and narrows his eyes slightly. "You love her."

  "With everything I am, yes."

  "And you believe in her? In you both?"

  "She’s my vozlyublennaya."

  "Your true love. Okay, well in that case, if Holly says it’s work stress, then it should be okay, yes?"

  "I hope." I’ll find out when I see her in a few hours’ time. "Ugh," I groan. "Feelings suck."

  "Yeah, man, icky feelings very much suck."

  Evan says it as a joke, but it's nothing but.

  * * *

  The first thing I do is make a beeline to Pam's apartment, flowers in hand.

  She answers, but she doesn't look particularly happy to see me. In fact, she looks like she hasn't slept since I last saw her.

  "Hey, Georg." She says it quietly in a way that sends alarm bells clanging inside my head. I do not like the way she just spoke my name. Usually the sound of my name on her lips is huge fucking turn-on. Right now? Not so much.

  "Hey. I've tried to ring. Text. No talk. I was worried about you."

  "Yeah…" Her shoulders slump as she lets out a huge sigh. No kiss. No throwing herself into my arms. No smile. Nothing to reassure me that everything is okay with her and me.

  "Can I come in?"

  She nods and turns away, leaving the door open. I follow her in, back toward the kitchen. She pours herself a cup of tea. I watch her do all of this silently, admiring her long hair down her back, her toned, tanned legs-for-fucking-days, topped by a pair of white shorts. She's absolutely gorgeous, and all I really want to do is pull her into her bedroom and fuck away this worry that's starting to squeeze around my throat.

  After we fuck it out, we can talk about whatever’s bothering her.

  "You want some?" she asks, her back toward me.

  "No," I say firmly. "I want you to tell me what's going on."

  She fiddles with her tea bag. Puts sugar in her cup. Stirs. She still won't turn and look at me.

  "Pamela." The frustration is enough to make my voice break on that one little word. Her name. The name of the woman I've grown to love. This is some fucked-up bullshit that's going on right now.

  She turns and takes a sip of her tea, but her hands are shaking. "We—we c-can't see each other anymore, Georg."

  I'm pretty fuckin' sure someone just flipped the world upside down. "What the fuck are you saying?"

  "I spoke to Bud while you were gone. Or rather, he spoke to me. One of the computer cameras was on that night we…well, you remember the night in the therapy room. There's no video, but very explicit audio. Bud said very clearly that it's my job or my relationship with you. And I need this job. I have a mortgage to pay, and I can't afford to leave my first employment under these types of circumstances. I'll never be hired again."

  "There's audio? How the hell?"

  She shrugs. "Does it even matter? And it doesn't matter who told him, or showed him, or whatever, either. What matters is that he has it. That he's listened to it. That my job is forfeit if I keep seeing you. He gave me an ultimatum."

  "I'll go talk to him—I'll tell him it was my fault. I'll tell him I coerced you."

  "But you didn't. I did it willingly, knowing it could get me fired. I did it because my body feels weird things when you're around. I sort of lose all my self-control. It needs to stop. I have to focus on my career. So, I told Bud yesterday that I was committed to the team, and that I would end things with you as soon as you were back."

  "That's ridiculous. We don't have to do this. I can go talk to Bud and Max."

  "No," she snaps. "You can't. This isn't about you. You're the superstar. The guy with the hot, new, upgraded deal. You're the playboy, and I'm just the girl who got sucked in. At least, that's what they think. That's the only reason they're even considering letting me keep my job. What I did was so unprofessional. I fucked a client. In the professional workspace. There's little that would be considered a worse infraction than that."

  "We didn't fuck that day," I say, cringing at the word. "We fooled around, but we didn't go all the way."

  "Irrelevant. My point still stands and you know it, Georg."

  "We can go to them together. Tell them we're in love. That it's not a fling—"

  "Georg." She levels me with her tone. It actually makes my heart beat faster. "It's over. I can't see you anymore. They're not interested in love stories. They're interested in having a physical therapy team that can be professional with the players. So from now on, you are a client, and I am a therapist. And that is all we can be."

  "So you're choosing your job over me? After all we've been through?"

  She makes a derisive sound. "What have we been through, Georg? We went on a few dates. We made out. We fucked. Just because we didn't both run away after the third date doesn't mean it's a forever kind of love. We're both in uncharted relationship territory here."

  I feel like I've been sucker-punched. I can't breathe. I can't comprehend what she's saying. I know it's all over my face and while I want to pull it all back, act like I don't care…but that’s not the truth. I care. A fucking lot.

  "Pam, I know you're telling yourself this because you're scared. You love your job, and you're really good at it. But Holly loves her job and she's really good at it, and she married a player. We can get through this. This is real. You know it. I know it. And you're stronger than this."

  "You don't get it, do you?" she bites back sharply. "You're celebrated. You can get away with whatever you want, pretty much. I'm a physical therapist. A dime a dozen. There will be fifty people in line behind me for a job like this if I walk away. And for what? I'd walk away from a career I love for something that might work out? Might possibly be more than a fly-by-night thing?"

  "No, you'd walk away from a career you love for someone you love. Because I believe you love me, Pamela. And I love you. And I'm willing to fight for this. For us. Why aren't you?"

  "I guess you're stronger than me, then. Because I'm scared. And I'm not willing to risk my livelihood right now. I worked hard, put myself through undergrad and master’s programs to get here. I'm still paying student-loan debt. I'm still establishing myself. This is a career ender if they fire me."

  "I can take care of you, and we can even get married like Holly and Evan." I sound completely desperate I know, but I don't care. "Do you want to? Get married?"

  "No. I don't want you to take care of me, and I don't want to get married—not like this!" She's crying now. The tears are flowing, and I think that alone is making her bravado crack. "I don't need someone to take care of me. I never have. I've always had to take care of myself and I've gotten pretty good at it, too. So, don't come in acting like some golden knight in shining armor because I don't need it. I don't need you, Georg Kolochev."

  "Pam, you don't know what you're saying—"

  "I do." She slashes at the tears on her cheeks with the back of her hand. "I'm saying this is done. Please, you have to go now. I—I can't—do this."

  We stand there staring at each other, both of our chests heaving, the air heavy with anger and frustration. I step forward and put my hand on the back of her head, pulling her to me. My lips touch hers for only an instant before she turns her lips away.

  "Please…leave," she begs while hot tears continue to make trails down her cheeks. "You h-h-have to go." How the fuck am I meant to leave her like this? How am I meant to leave her? My everything. My future…

  A heartbeat passes. Then another. "Fine," I finally say. "But know that I love you. I'm really fuckin' disappointed in you, because I know you're stronger than this. And I also know that you really don't want this."

  And I turn. I walk out her front door, dro
pping the bouquet of flowers on the front step.

  I go to the car, start the engine, put it in drive. I'm on autopilot. My ears are buzzing, my head swimming with a million thoughts. When I arrive at my apartment building I park, but I don't go up.

  No, I walk to a place that I know I shouldn't go, but I do it anyway.

  The nearest bar where I can drown my sorrows in the bottom of a glass.

  A few drinks into my pity party I realize that it will take a lot of glasses to drown my sorrows. But more importantly, that even if I drink all the glasses, it won't make a difference.

  I stop drinking before I'm unable to walk myself home. Barely. But I manage to make it inside my apartment and into the shower when I have my come-to-Jesus moment. A lifeline of self-preservation. Strength and determination that rises up from somewhere to reason with my fucked-up, aching, torn-to-shreds heart.

  Kind of a miracle actually given the way I feel right now.

  Having Pam or not having her—I cannot go back to the partying I did before. Just because I'm hurting. Pamela Jenson is a beautiful, intractable, talented, and brave woman. I get what she’s fearful about, but she’s given up. What the fuck do I do about that? I don't know how I'll dull the pain, but I can't go back there to that dark place again.

  Because I won't make it out the other side in one piece if I do.

  Twenty-Six

  Pam

  THIS IS NO FAIRY TALE

  As soon as he leaves, I fall to the floor in a sobbing heap. That is one of the worst things I have ever had to do. Telling him to go. Telling him it's not real love. I hurt him. I hurt my Georg and sent him away.

  But I had to do it. Everything I said about my student loans and paying my mortgage—all of that was true and real, and I wasn't lying when I said I don't want someone else to take care of me. I have to establish myself on my own terms. I don't know another way to be.

  I'm so angry at myself. For allowing myself to cross a professional boundary. For losing myself in this man. I've never let things go so far before. Why did I do it this time?

  Because this time was different.

  This time you fell in love.

  I tearfully gather up the pink and purple bouquet now scattered on my steps and bring them inside to the sink. I arrange the unbroken stems in a vase, through a veritable river of tears, while reliving the words from Georg that hurt the most: I can take care of you, and we can even get married if you wanted. He can't have possibly meant it that way. There's just no way Georg Kolochev wants to marry me or anyone else, even if he did offer it as a solution in a moment of rejection. I saw the hurt in his eyes. I put it there.

  Much later, after my tears have stopped, and when I'm utterly exhausted from the emotional roller coaster I've been stuck on, I still can't sleep. Instead I lie awake for what feels like hours.

  Staring up at the ceiling in the dark.

  Clinging to the idea that pushing away the man I love…was the right thing to do. Clinging to the lie that someday I’ll find love again.

  * * *

  The following day I let Bud know that my relationship with Georg is officially over.

  "This really is for the best," Bud says. "Staff and player relationships very rarely end well. There are reasons for our policies."

  I bite my tongue to keep from asking why Evan and Holly were allowed to move forward with their relationship. It doesn't matter. I've ended things with Georg, so it just doesn't matter anymore.

  Dale and I start planning some conditioning clinics for the players in preparation for our expected trip to the cup series. The coaching staff wants the whole team to be as fit and strong as possible.

  I go to lunch with Dale so we can do some planning. After we order our food, he blows his straw wrapper into my lap from across the table.

  "What are you, ten?"

  "I'm flirting." He grins widely, his attentions doing absolutely nothing to lighten my mood.

  "I'm not dating people at work. Focus on the task at hand."

  "I'll wear you down one of these days," he promises.

  "Yes, just the way I want to get a date. By wearing me down." I roll my eyes. "You need to mature your methods of wooing women, dude."

  He chuckles at this and switches the subject back to our strength and conditioning clinics. He is fun to collaborate with, no doubt. We work really well together, and while he's attractive, he just isn't my type.

  The worst strike against Dale is that he isn't Georg.

  No other man is Georg.

  Later in the week, I watch an away game on television with Scarlett. Holly is back to work, and back to traveling with the team to manage their social media from the ground. She wears the baby in a little carrier the whole time, and it's super cute. The press loves her as much as they love Evan, and every chance they get they put the camera on Evan's little family in the stands. It makes me so happy for my friend. She looks so confident and happy.

  But it makes me sad for myself. Because she got her fairy-tale ending and I got told, under no uncertain terms, that I would no longer have a job if I continued a relationship with Georg.

  The team is playing well. Georg is being uncharacteristically aggressive on the ice, but it's working, and in the third period, the Crush is winning by two goals.

  "He doesn't look very happy out there," Scarlett comments as she picks her way through a bowl of popcorn.

  "I wouldn't know," I say sourly.

  "Why not?" she asks, concerned. I've forgotten that we haven't talked about any of this. I've only talked about it with Holly. "I thought things were progressing with you two."

  "I was told by management that it was Georg or my job."

  "Oh no.” Her mouth goes wide. "But Holly and Evan—"

  "I know," I say, putting my hand up. "They don't view Georg as a settling-down guy. They view me as some dumb woman who fell into the trap of a playboy…blah, blah, blah. It's ridiculous, but there you have it."

  "Well that really sucks. If it were me, I'd quit. I'd quit and go get a job somewhere else and keep seeing him. I mean, you're a physical therapist. And a damn good one. You can get a job anywhere."

  "But I really want to work in sports. And I love hockey. And I love this team."

  "And you love Georg." Scarlett gives me a look that dares me to challenge her assessment. "This is Vegas. There are all kinds of performers—dancers and acrobats and gymnasts—and they get hurt. And there's arena football and soccer, too. There is plenty to do if you want to treat athletes. It doesn't have to be here."

  "I can't believe you're telling me to quit my job."

  "And I can't believe you're letting a great guy go just because of a job. A job is a job, Pam. It pays the bills. And yes, it's good if you enjoy it, but you can enjoy working somewhere else. But there is only one Georg Kolochev." She shakes her head at me slowly. "If you love him and he loves you then it's just stupid that you're not together."

  "You make it all sound so simple."

  "I know it's not simple," she says sharply. "I'm not naïve. But I lost someone I cared about and while we didn’t have a perfect relationship, it still hurt like hell when he died. And I don't know if I'll ever fall in love again. So, all I'm saying is that it's worth it to hold on to it when you find it."

  "I pushed him away, though. I hurt him and I told him I didn't need him. He probably hates me."

  "He doesn't hate you," Scarlett says. "Look at him. He's hurt. He's angry. But you don't feel that way unless there's love there, too."

  "Maybe so, but I can't just be like, oh, I'll quit my job. Take me back. And what's more, I don't want to quit my job. I want both. Why is that too much to ask?"

  "I don't think it is," Scarlett says with a soft shake of her head. "And if anyone is sassy enough to make that happen, it's you."

  I hug her and thank her for the support, but it's really so much more than that. Scarlett has given me a thread of hope. It might be a very thin thread, but it's there.

  I think about what
Scarlett said for a couple of days.

  And then it comes to me when I'm lying in my bed at night wide awake and miserable, missing the man I love because I sent him away. I sent away a beautiful man who loves me.

  Dumb.

  So very dumb.

  I have absolutely no excuse for doing it either, other than the heavy anchor of fear that's trying to drag me to the bottom. I let my fear win the day I told Georg we had to break up. But I'm done with fear ruling my life's decisions.

  I am so done with that. Fear ruled my life for two incredibly unspeakable years. It eroded my confidence. It destroyed my innocence. It nearly destroyed me. But I don’t have to let fear rule my life now. What was absent in those years was love. Unconditional, patient, unselfish love. "If you love him and he loves you, then it's just stupid that you're not together."

  I’m done being stupid. It’s time to get my fight on.

  And I know exactly what I must do.

  Twenty-Seven

  Georg

  SOME BUNNY LOVES YOU

  The Cup.

  We have home advantage to start out the series, but the DC team is on fire this season. They’re having the season we had last year and it's only Vegas luck that has us squaring up against them for this final playoff series.

  In games one and two, we played well, winning both games in the desert at the best-of-seven cup series. In the games directly after Pamela threw us away, I played like a rookie. Tight, aggressive, total chip on my shoulder. I didn't play badly, but I definitely wasn't a star. It says a lot that it was hotheaded Tyler and hotheaded Mikhail who pulled me aside and told me I was going to get injured again if I didn't get my head in the right place.

  Evan told me not to squander the good deal Scott worked out for me by getting injured again. Another concussion could be a career-ender, and that seemed like a big waste to him.