Holding (Moving the Chains Book 5)

by Kata Čuić

  Mike pulls a mangled morsel from my grasp. “Here. Let me.”

  “Right.” I nod, my temper flaring. He’ll arrange appetizers on a tray with the gentlest touch possible, but I don’t get so much as a swipe of his finger down my cheek the way I’m craving. “Thanks. I’ve barely been able to function without you around to solve all my problems for me.”

  His tone is equally biting. “Your sarcasm is noted. Nice to know you miss me at all. Are you back with Ben already to fulfill your needs?”

  I choke down the sob threatening to erupt from my tight throat. This is not the time or the place to break down.

  “You know what? Fuck you, Mitchell,” I hiss. “I don’t deserve this. When have I ever distracted you from doing your job? I know what it means to you. I’ve done nothing but support you from beginning to end. If this is how you want to repay me, then I’m sorry I ever wasted a second of my life with you.”

  “I know,” he murmurs, his fingers twitching on the countertop like he wants to reach for me but won’t let himself. “That’s why I won’t risk hurting you any more than I already am.”

  “Well, guess what? You’re doing a great job. You are.”

  He at least has the decency to face me and meet my gaze. “Better emotionally than physically.”

  “What?”

  His face crinkles like he can’t understand why I’m confused. “I get that you’re pissed, but we discussed this. I don’t want to hurt you if my symptoms get out of control. You know better than most what I’m capable of. It’s too much of a risk.”

  I blink at him. Did I get a concussion? Because at no time did we ever have a conversation about what he’s implying. “Mike. We absolutely did not discuss that.”

  He squints. His eyes move back and forth like he’s replaying the events of the past month in his mind. “Yes, we did. You agreed you should keep your distance for your own safety.”

  I study him. Really look past his devastatingly handsome features that distract me with lust. His eyes aren’t quite as sharp as usual, and he’s not nearly as relaxed and calm as his words sound. His muscles bunch and flex with visible tension from an invisible source.

  More anxiety presses against my chest. I keep my words hushed and slow. “We never discussed any of that. You basically kicked me out of your house a month ago. You told me to leave with Alex because you didn’t want me around while you focused on your recovery, so you could get back on the field sooner.”

  “Yeah,” he nods a little too quickly. “And to protect you from me. In case my brain’s too messed up, and I lose my temper.” Finally, finally he drags his fingertip down my cheek. “I don’t want to hurt you, Peaches.”

  I step closer and glance into the living room, but everyone else is occupied with more gifts than I’ve ever seen in my lifetime for one person who hasn’t even been born yet. “Are you telling me you’ve played the last two games while you’re still experiencing concussion symptoms?”

  “My balance is back to normal, and I’ve passed all the protocols,” he defends, his voice a grating hiss that sizzles against my skin. “I’ve already been reactivated from the IR list.”

  I nod, trying to absorb what my ears can’t believe I’m hearing. “And yet I’m still not allowed in your house. You won’t even talk to me on the phone. Care to explain that?”

  “I already explained it,” he grinds out, stepping away from me. “You know I have a violent history. Until I’m one hundred percent back to normal, I’m not willing to risk hurting you.”

  “Then, why are you willing to risk hurting yourself? You shouldn’t be playing like this!” I gesture to the people who know him so well who are sitting mere feet away. “Do they know? Do they know what you’re risking just to play a fucking game? Does your mother even know?”

  His hand curls around the edge of the countertop until his knuckles turn white even as his face turns red. “Leave my mother out of this. She’s been through enough, so you know why I need to keep playing as long as my body holds out.”

  “I know she wouldn’t want you to! No amount of money is worth your life!”

  He shrugs. Again. His voice is eerily calm, which doesn’t match the fire in his eyes. “A life for a life.”

  “That’s not how any of this works!”

  He opens his mouth to respond then snaps it closed when Evie waddles into the room.

  “Ugh. I have to pee. Again.” She glances between us at our obviously stiff postures but says nothing about the tension still rippling in the room. A wide smile spreads across her face. She throws open her arms instead. “You made it!”

  He strides quickly to her and wraps her in the hug he denied me. Apparently, he’s not afraid of losing his temper with her.

  I never thought I’d be the jealous type, but here I am.

  His gaze meets mine over the top of Evie’s curls. He shakes his head subtly, a silent plea to keep his secret.

  I nod. I won’t be silent for selfish reasons, but I’m not going to ruin her big day by blabbing what I know either.

  Mike kisses Evie on the cheek then grabs the refilled tray from the kitchen island. “Did you open the gift I sent yet?”

  “Uh…” She blows out a breath. “No. I saved it until last to see if you’d get here. Go make yourself comfortable and eat. I’ll be back in a minute.”

  He escapes into the living room, probably grateful not to have to lie to her face for too long.

  I’m not so lucky.

  She stares at me until sweat breaks out on my upper lip. “Is he mad that you accepted the PR position with the Sing Out Foundation?”

  “Yep,” I lie through my teeth. “You were right. He doesn’t like the idea of me switching to online classes and working full time while I finish my master’s. He thinks I should wait until after graduation.”

  She rolls her eyes. “He’ll get over it. What he really doesn’t like is the idea that he doesn’t have to support you because you’re a badass woman all on your own. These guys might be modern gladiators, but in some ways, they’re still total cavemen.”

  I couldn’t agree more. I exhale both frustration and relief when she waddles past me to the bathroom.

  Evie has enough to worry about right now, but this is one secret of Mike’s that I have no intention of keeping.

  I love him too much to stay silent.

  She picks up on the first ring like she’s been waiting for my call. She probably has.

  “I can’t fucking believe you! You had no goddamn right!”

  “I’m sorry,” she whispers, tears choking her voice.

  “Sorry doesn’t fucking cut it!” My big-screen TV makes a horrible, satisfying shattering noise when the remote hits it with all the force I can muster. “Do you have any idea what you’ve done? I’m out for the season, Tori! The rest of the fucking season! This puts my contract in jeopardy!”

  “They didn’t cut you! You’re on injured reserve again, but your contract is guaranteed against injury! You’ll still receive your full salary!”

  Oh, well. At least she read the fine print on my contract before pulling this little stunt. That makes it all better. Not.

  “I trusted you,” I bite out, my heart thrashing in my chest. “You sold me out the first chance you got.”

  “Why do you even care if you don’t finish out your contract with the Wolves?” she argues through sobs that cut me like a backstabbing knife. “Any other team in the league would treat you better than they have! You wouldn’t even have to fake a relationship for some stupid media stunt!”

  So, that’s her agenda. She doesn’t want Kaylie to sink her claws into me for the rest of the season if the front office decides to try a new marketing play. She fucked me over because she’s jealous.

  I take a deep breath and stuff down my rage. Trashing my house isn’t going to solve a damn thing. “My base pay is guaranteed. My bonuses are performance-based. Do you have any idea how much college tuition costs these days? Without those bonuses, I have to ch
oose which sister to help! Or decide to quit making payments on all my mom’s debt!”

  “Who helped you, Mike? Huh?” The tears are gone. Her voice is angry now.

  “I got a full ride! Because I play fucking football!” I explode.

  “Yeah, well…” She chuckles, but it’s the least happy sound I’ve ever heard. “I love you, but I can’t sit on the sidelines and watch you kill yourself.”

  “Peaches, wait…” Damn it. I’m mad, but this isn’t what I want either. She just doesn’t understand where I’m coming from. That’s on me. I have to make her see reason.

  “Don’t,” she cuts me off before I can even start explaining myself. “Whatever you’re going to say, don’t. I didn’t have any say in the matter when my mom chose me over her own life. My brothers resent me to this day because of a choice I didn’t make. I don’t want to resent you because of another decision that isn’t mine to make. But I will be damned if you add me to your list of reasons for valuing money over your life. I refuse. Do you hear me?”

  “Babe, no…” All my anger rushes out with a tackle I never saw coming.

  “Goodbye.” She sniffles. “Take care of yourself, Teddy Bear.”

  She hangs up then another call immediately comes through.

  If it was anyone else, I wouldn’t answer.

  “It’s time. We’re on our way to the hospital,” Evie pants, her teeth obviously gritted in pain. “I need you here. Just in case…”

  It’s a month early, but she doesn’t need me to point out the obvious. “I’m on my way.”

  I have no control over this outcome, but I’ll be damned if I don’t keep my promises.

  “Do I make myself perfectly clear?”

  Wide-eyed faces stare back at me from around the conference table. The guy who spent the past hour arguing every point I made actually has his mouth hanging open.

  “Is that a yes or a no? Because if no, then we can go over the entire slide deck again. I’ll even order dinner for everyone, so we can stay until the plan is crystal.”

  Mr. Mansplain snaps out of it. “Miss Russo, with all due respect, we’re not going to earn any brownie points with the universities we want to land contracts with by blitzing them this way. I’m telling you, we need to start small.”

  “And I’m telling you, Sing Out squandered too much momentum during the re-org last year. We’re out of time to save this foundation. It’s now or never. You’re either in or you’re out. Your choice.”

  “You’re not giving us much of a choice,” he mutters.

  “What was that?”

  “Nothing,” he says, straightening in his seat and gathering his papers.

  “That’s what I thought.”

  No one is ever going to ignore what I have to say ever again. If I have to be a bitch to make that happen, then so be it. I’m just grateful Mike’s coaches opened their eyes and paid enough attention to his symptoms so that my unanswered pleas to Mr. Gallo didn’t matter.

  A high-pitched wail fills the room. Even over a speaker, the sound is enough to make my ears bleed. It’s the best birth control I’ve never heard of. I don’t even miss sex anymore.

  “Sorry, everyone. It’s almost feeding time.” Evie’s voice crackles over the com in between shushing her little bundle of joy. “Paul, we’re going to go with Tori’s plan. She’s right. If we don’t hit the ground running this year, it could mean lights out for the foundation. We’ve all worked too hard not to give it our all in the fourth quarter.”

  Ugh. More football analogies. I hate those. I hate everything about football.

  Thank God I don’t work in that sector anymore.

  I don’t even watch the games on TV.

  The cries turn to gurgling coos, and everyone around the table takes turns babbling in adult baby-talk. I tune it out and save my slides, disconnect from the projector screen, then gather the extra papers from around the room. I still have to draft emails to twenty universities, make copies of multiple check-lists for next week’s preparation meeting, and lock up the office. At least there’s a nice package of Ramen waiting for me at home. I even sprung for the pricier roast chicken flavor instead of just plain chicken.

  By the time it’s just me in an empty conference room with the sound of happy suckling in the background, I’m exhausted from my own mental to-do list. So, I collapse into the nearest chair, toe off my heels, and prop my feet on the table. Being a badass woman is hard work, but I’d rather be in the office at Sing Out’s East Coast headquarters than in my two-bedroom apartment anyway. My roommate drives me a little crazy.

  “You know you want to ask.” Evie chuckles. “I might not be in the same room with you, but I can feel it.”

  If I can’t admit it to myself, I’m certainly not about to confess it to her. “I have no idea what you’re talking about. Is Robbie finally latching on properly?”

  “The gala is next weekend,” she murmurs. “You really don’t want to know if he’s going to be there?”

  She doesn’t even take the baby bait, darn her. It’s always worked until now for a sure-fire distraction from this topic. It’s not like I can tell my boss to mind her own freaking business even though I really, really want to sometimes.

  “I’m prepared for that contingency, but I’m sure it won’t be an issue. He’s probably too busy with gearing up for the playoffs now that he’s off the IR.”

  I can practically hear the grin in her voice because of my utterly stupid slip-up. “I thought you don’t watch football anymore?”

  “I don’t.” It’s the truth. However, as head of the PR department for a non-profit foundation that relies on football players for social media proof, it’s part of my job description to pore over every last bit of the internet until my eyeballs feel like they’re bleeding in the late, late night hours. She doesn’t need to know that. It’s my job to captain this ship until she’s back full-time from maternity leave. “Have you confirmed with the caterer that there won’t be any seafood served at the event?”

  “I have.” Thankfully, this is a serious enough topic to divert her attention. “They’re relatively new in the Sacramento area, but they come highly recommended, and they seem very eager to please. No seafood and no coconut. We’re good to go.”

  “Awesome. Because the slinky cocktail dress I picked out does not go well with my giant handbag full of allergy supplies.”

  Evie chuckles. “Oh, I see how it is. You’re hoping he’ll be there.”

  So much for distraction. That’s my fault.

  “You know what? Maybe I should just book a hotel room. I don’t want to impose by staying with you while I’m in town. Just because you’re going to get a few hours’ reprieve at the gala doesn’t mean you won’t have a baby to nurse all night when you get home. I don’t want to be in the way, making you uncomfortable at all.”

  “I don’t pay you enough to afford a hotel room and slinky cocktail dresses while living in New York City. Hopefully, this kick-off fundraiser will change that. You’re doing an amazing job, Tori. I can’t thank you enough for taking a chance on our little start-up. Pretty soon, you’re going to have an MBA under your belt, and I’ll have to pull out all the stops to keep you.”

  “Yeah, well, you could start by not bringing up Mike every chance you get,” I mutter under my breath. I love this job. This is exactly what I envisioned doing when I first decided to go into marketing. It’s also a cause I fully support unlike a game that glorifies bashing people’s brains in.

  “He’s the only brother I’ve ever had. I just want what’s best for him.” Evie sighs. “You have my word though. Whatever happens between you two is exactly that—between you two. I won’t bring him up anymore if that’s what you really want.”

  “It is.” My mind is made up. Now, if I could only convince my heart.

  The first sound I hear when I open the door to my apartment is the blaring noise of SportsCenter on the television.

  Darn it.

  The second sound that float
s to my ears is the distinct moan of a female.

  Actually, I’m kind of excited about that.

  I peek my head into the living room. Not that I’m a secret voyeur or anything. I just need to confirm we have a guest instead of assuming Ben is multitasking by watching porn on his phone before I yell at him to take happy, fun time to his own freaking bedroom.

  He is definitely not alone.

  A woman is on his lap, writhing and moaning, her head thrown back in ecstasy even though he has a hand fisted in her thick, brown hair. His face is buried in her neck, and he’s moaning, too.

  At least they still have clothes on. If I arrived even five minutes later, this might look a lot more like a champagne room than my living room.

  I clear my throat.

  She leaps off him like he’s given her an electrical shock, her eyes wide as she tries to smooth her wild hair down.

  “Oh. Hey, Bethany.” It’s a small miracle that I manage to keep the glee out of my voice.

  These two have been circling around each other for over a month now, and I’m happy for them. It’s also exhausting listening to Ben dissect every nuance of their phone calls and coffee dates, hoping against hope that she’ll give him a second chance.

  It looks like she has.

  “Tori!” Her cheeks are brighter than mine usually are, and she’s not even a redhead. “I’m so sorry! Ben said you usually get home much later than this…”

  He chuckles with an embarrassed undertone, but his eyes are bright. He’s not sorry at all.

  I’m not either. Hopefully, he won’t need me to be his unpaid relationship coach anymore.

  “He’s absolutely right, but I’m starving. Don’t mind me. I’m just going to make myself dinner real quick then retreat to my bedroom. Give me five minutes, and I’ll be out of your hair.”

  Ben smiles in gratitude, but Bethany can’t quite meet my eyes.

  I let her off the hook. If I put myself in her shoes, I’d be embarrassed, too.

  I’ve just dropped my block of noodles into the boiling water when footsteps approach at my back. Strained silence stretches out between us.