by Toni Aleo
“Always a good thing,” she said, laughing a bit as she cleared her throat. “Is it ’cause of Skylar? Or the wedding? Or, dare I say his name—brace yourself—but Markus?”
Hearing his name hurt more than hearing her sister’s, which made her question herself. Skylar was her sister; she should be able to forgive her, but she hadn’t. She couldn’t. The betrayal was so intense and hurtful, and she was mad. Furious, even. How dare she? But the thing that drove Mekena absolutely batshit was, even after all that happened, she still loved him. Still yearned for him. And she was supposed to face him? After almost eighteen months of no contact or even seeing his face? She hadn’t even Facebook-stalked him. Nothing. Cold turkey. Yet, she couldn’t shake him, and she knew why.
She had a photo.
One photo of them.
The both of them grinning, carefree, and totally digging each other.
A photo she refused to delete.
Just closing her eyes, she could see his. Eyes that could pierce a soul. Her soul. They were such an alarmingly beautiful caramel color that complemented his dark skin perfectly. His unruly black hair had been extra fluffy that day since they were on the way to the barbershop. His grin, nothing could stop it. His teeth so white, so perfectly straight, while hers were a little crooked at the bottom. But she was grinning. Hard. For him. For the possibility of their future.
But that all came to a crashing halt.
“You know what, babe, you’re gonna be so busy being an awesome photographer, you won’t even know he is there.”
She scoffed. “I’ll know.”
“I know, but we can act like he isn’t.”
“Solid plan, except I can’t. I haven’t even seen him, and I just can’t,” she said slowly, and Avery’s voice dropped into an almost whisper.
“I know. I’m sorry. But at least you won’t see him but for one day. He is coming in late Friday evening because he has games and flying out the next night. So don’t worry.”
Letting out a relieved breath since she had been worried about that, Mekena smiled. “Thank God.”
When she pulled into her driveway, she put the car in park as she listened to Avery laugh with Ashlyn. “Hey, I’ll let you go. I just got home, and you’re busy.”
“Are you sure? Come see me!”
“I will. Promise. Let me do what I need to do, and then I’ll come out tomorrow.”
“Party. Bring Fatso.”
Offended, Mekena shook her head. “I will not. I refuse to subject him to you. You’re mean,” she joked. “I’ll text you.”
“Okay! Bye!”
Hanging up, Mekena smiled and got out of the car, heading into the house as she checked her emails, her camera hanging off her shoulder. Libby had shut the studio down for the two weeks they would be in Nashville, and since one of Mekena’s jobs was to answer studio emails, she figured she’d better get it done before she saw Libby. Stopping at the back door, she answered a quick one about appointments and then tucked her phone into her pocket before entering her old family home.
Growing up, Mekena’s family wasn’t rich, but neither were they poor. They were solidly middle class. Her father worked hard at the tire factory, and her mom was a teacher. They had everything they needed and never yearned for more. They were happy, and their home showed that. Entering the family room, Mekena studied the walls covered with memories. Skylar was one hell of a dancer, so the walls were plastered with her dance pictures. Since taking a picture of a young girl reading a book wasn’t something you put on the wall, there were only a few pictures of Mekena. Actually, the only pictures on the walls of Mekena were the ones of her with all her academic awards.
Walking through the family room, she entered the kitchen where she heard her parents and Libby talking about the latest in politics. At least no one was cutting anyone.
Yet.
“Hey, sweetheart, how’d it go?” her father, Stan, asked as he leaned against the counter while Libby and her mom, Linda, were sitting at the table.
“Went well,” she said, laying her camera on the table. “It’s a big place. We might need to hire a third shooter,” she said, more to Libby than her parents.
“Eh, we’ll be fine,” Libby said, waving her off. Mekena’s mother and Libby were twins, both with dark hair and brown eyes like Mekena. She favored them, while Skylar favored their father more. She was taller, darker, and stronger like him.
And some would say a whore like him too.
But that wasn’t very nice. And not really true, either.
“Any emails lately?”’
“Nope,” she said, sitting down beside her mom. Linda reached out, taking Mekena’s hand, and smiled. Mekena returned the smile. “What are y’all doing?”
“Just talking,” her mother said, squeezing her hand. “It’s so good to have you home.”
Mekena smiled. “I know, I’ve missed y’all.”
“No, she hasn’t. I’m better,” Libby joked, and her mother laughed.
“Please, you’re old.”
“I’m the same age you are!”
“Old,” she repeated, kissing the back of her daughter’s hand. “You should move back.”
“Mom…”
“Really, you can go back to school. A different one, this time.”
“Vanderbilt is awesome, baby,” her father suggested, and she nodded.
“Really great school.”
“Or you can hang with me,” Libby suggested, and Mekena smiled. “I know, hard decision since I’m so awesome and all.”
“You’re just so smart, honey. Use it,” her mother suggested. The thought had crossed Mekena’s mind a few times, that maybe she should come back home. But she just couldn’t. Not yet. Not now.
“I’m good,” Mekena lied, shaking her head as she looked around. Clearing her throat free of emotion, she asked, “Where is Mr. Right?”
“He’s napping,”
“Does he do anything else?” Libby asked, and Mekena glared.
“Hush, you.”
Her father laughed. “I watched him fart once. But he was out of breath for a good hour, so he might not do that again.”
That had everyone cackling while Mekena still looked perturbed. “I don’t know why everyone is hating on my cat.”
“Honey, he goes to Florida with you and comes home morbidly obese. I feel you should leave him here so I can get him back in shape,” her mother suggested, but Mekena shook her head.
“He is my baby. He is going with me. I hated when he was here and I was in the dorms. Don’t worry, we are discussing his eating habits. It’s a one-sided conversation, though,” Mekena announced, and apparently, that was funny. “We are working on it.”
“Lord,” her mother laughed, shaking her head. “Speaking of food, I’m hungry. Let’s go out.”
“Ooh, yes!” Libby exclaimed.
Her father laughed. “I could eat, but Mr. Right can skip dinner.”
Before Mekena could scold him, she was interrupted. “Yeah, I’m starving.”
Mekena froze at the last voice that added to what she had thought was a party of four. Turning, she found her older sister leaning against the doorjamb, her arms crossed over her chest, a shit-eating grin on her face. She was wearing a pair of shorts that were way too short for Mekena’s taste, along with an even tighter shirt. Her dark hair was pulled up in a messy bun, her eyes smoky with makeup. She was beautiful. Even though she was a whoring-ass bitch, she would always be beautiful.
The two sisters were night and day.
Always had been, always would be.
Mekena’s very modest skirt reached her ankles and her blousy top hung off her shoulders, while her dark hair was in curls down her back. She was considered the pretty one, not beautiful or gorgeous. Just pretty, and she was okay with that. But when he was around, he used to say she was gorgeous and hot, and it spoiled her and made the loss of him even more painful.
As her body shook with anger, she stood, clearing her throat. “I’m
tired. I’m gonna go to bed.”
Before she could move, though, her mother stopped her. “Kennie, it’s five. Come on.”
“No, I’m good,” she said, pulling away and starting toward the hall that led to her room. Before she could reach it, though, her father’s voice stopped her.
“Don’t you think this is getting old? It’s been well over a year. Time to bury the hatchet, don’t you think? You two are sisters.”
Mekena scoffed. “Yeah, and one would think that would keep her from fucking the guy I was with. But apparently, it didn’t. So, yeah, y’all have fun.”
She was answered with silence and awkward looks. When she went to go past Skylar, her sister stepped in front of her. Glaring up at the person she had once idolized, Mekena said, “Move.”
“Kennie, come on. This is insane. It’s been, like, years since it happened, and y’all weren’t even really together, just dating.”
“Yeah, so that means it’s okay to fuck him, right?”
“Kennie, come on, I obviously I did it for you—”
“Fuck. You,” she said sharply and with all the anger her body could muster. “You broke my heart, and I have nothing to say to you.”
“Kennie! I couldn’t have you waste your virginity on that filth. I had to show you he was trash—”
Mekena didn’t even stay to hear the rest. She pushed past Skylar, going into her room and slamming the door. Looking to the bed, she saw Mr. Right sound asleep, not even the least bit concerned that the door just slammed or that his owner was on the brink of tears.
And boy, was she trying not to let them fall.
She had cried enough over the betrayal by her sister. The heartbreak by him. But her heart was pounding, her body was shaking, and everything just hurt like a festering wound. Closing her eyes, she leaned into the door and exhaled hard as she shook her head. She hadn’t seen her sister in over a year, and seeing her again was like it had all happened once more.
And just like that, she was back to that morning.
To the morning where she watched her sister come out of his house.
He was just standing there, no shirt, a pair of loose-fitting shorts, his hands covering his face—until he heard her voice. When he looked up, his eyes were full of regret, shock, and he almost looked as if he was about to cry.
But Skylar, she was smiling, her hair a mess, and her clothes wrinkled from the night before.
Ruffling Mekena’s hair, she grinned and said, “Not worth it, babe.”
And then she walked away. No cares in the world.
All Mekena could do was look to him, praying he would say it was all not true. That he did not have sex with her sister, but he couldn’t. He just kept apologizing, trying to stop her, but Mekena couldn’t even form words. Couldn’t even fathom how this could have happened.
But it did.
And now she was going to have to face him too.
But thank God it was only for one day.
After a quick shower, since Markus didn’t want to keep Elli waiting, he started to make his way to the coach’s office. When he turned the hall, though, he heard Elli’s voice ringing through the door, and it stopped him in his tracks.
Elli Adler was scary when she was mad.
“Please explain to me how these boys are supposed to play to their potential when you aren’t helping them get there, but rather cutting them down. I have never in all my years of owning a team heard a coach talk to his boys like that. This is your warning, Saint. I won’t stand for this, and I will replace you.”
About time someone told him that, Markus thought as he came to a stop in front of the door. Before he could knock, though, her voice shook the wood. “Do you like when people scream at you or call you names?”
“No, ma’am.”
“Then why would they? When I hired you, I told you I wanted my team to feel like a family. That’s the way the Assassins are. We are a family that has each other’s backs, on and off the ice. Can you honestly look me in my eyes and tell me this team is a family? ’Cause last I checked, everyone was playing their own game and not a game as one. I doubt any of them even talks outside of the game, and I blame you for that. Are you doing the team-building exercises I sent you?”
“They are just—”
“I’ll take that as a no. And let me tell you, that will change from this second on, and if it doesn’t, I will find a coach who will make my wants and needs his number one priority. Are you that coach, Mr. St. Marc?”
Coach didn’t even hesitate. “Yes, ma’am, I am.”
“Then prove it to me. Do I make myself clear?”
“Yes. I will.”
“Thank you.”
Man, talk about an ass-chewing, Markus thought as he was met with silence. Damn, she was on a roll. Was he next?
Shit.
He figured it was a good moment to knock and raised his hand to do so. He expected someone to say to come in, but the door flew open and he was met with Coach Saint. He had seen his coach mad many times, but at that exact moment, he was pretty sure Coach was developing an ulcer.
“Come in, Reeves,” he said, and Markus slowly walked past him and into the office. Looking toward the desk, he found Elli sitting behind it like she owned it, her hands in her lap and a smile on her face. Cool as a cucumber.
I’m fucked.
“You can go,” she barked as Markus looked back at his coach. Everything inside him was on high alert. If he was being called up, why was she here to do it? She didn’t come see players to bring them up. No, she called. Crap, he’d read this all wrong. This wasn’t a good thing; this was bad. Oh, shit, was he being traded? Was that bad? No, right? Crap!
Coach made a very disgruntled sound and then stomped out of the room, the door slamming shut behind him. Markus jumped at the sound. It knocked him back to reality, leaving behind his anxiety-filled thoughts. When he glanced back at Elli, she was grinning like a fox in a henhouse. “Have a seat, Reeves.”
“Yes, ma’am,” he said, sitting down in front of the desk and running his hands down his lap. Holding her gaze, he waited for it. The “You’re fired” or “I’m trading you” or “We hate you—die.”
“How are you?” she asked, and Markus’s eyes widened.
He hadn’t expected that.
“I’m fine, thank you. You? How’s the kiddos?”
Her face brightened at the mention of her five children. “Oh, I’m fine, and the kids are good too. Busy as all get-out, driving me insane. Hockey is all I live and breathe. The boys broke a window last week. Obviously, my husband is not being a good househusband ’cause I found the stick in his hand. I swear they are aging me by the minute.” She laughed and Markus grinned.
“Well, you don’t look a day over twenty,” he said, and her face lit up.
“Such a sweet talker,” she teased, leaning back in her chair as silence stretched between them. Holding his gaze, she said, “I’m sure you’re wondering what I wanted to see you about.”
“I am,” he replied, leaning on his legs, his heart jackhammering inside his chest. “Am I being traded?”
“No, not at all.”
“Am I fired?”
She laughed. “No, quite the opposite, actually. I wanted to ask you to come up and play for the Assassins.”
His heart blew up in his chest. He thought for a moment he had heard her wrong, but she was smiling, her eyes bright. As his throat clogged with emotion, he could only choke out, “Really?”
“Yes,” she said simply, her eyes holding his. “As you know, the World Cup of Hockey was moved back because of scheduling issues in Canada.” He didn’t know that at all, but he nodded like he did. “You’re also aware that the Assassins aren’t the team we used to be. Losing Shea and then Baylor Moore has been trying. We’re working to find our footing, but we have yet to do so. We need to. I don’t know if we’ve gotten lazy, if I’m sticking with the old because they are basically my brothers, or what, but I want the Cup in Nashville again.”
“Me too,” he agreed as she leaned forward.
“Our season hasn’t gotten off to the greatest start. I’m in conversations with some other owners, feeling some things out, talking to the coaches. And when I talked to Jayden Sinclair, our captain, he told me about you.”
He owed Jayden the world. Clearing his throat, he nodded. “I played with Jayden back at Bellevue.”
“I know,” she said, moving a stray piece of hair out of her eyes. “I’ve watched the tapes. You were amazing back there. And I almost came in here to tell you I want to see what I saw on the tape on this ice, and then we’d revisit, but I can’t leave you here. I need you to come up now.”
“I would love that,” he said breathlessly.
“Please don’t think I didn’t know that, or that I had forgotten about you, because I didn’t. I’ve just waited for the right time to call you up. But the problem with calling you up is that one of my defensemen will either be sent down or benched since, as of now, I have three pairs. But something’s gotta change, and Jayden feels you could be the missing piece.”
“I truly believe I am,” he managed to get out, his chest aching from the pounding of his heart. “Jayden and I are gold together. We played for a long time as a pair. I can help bring that Cup home.”
“That’s exactly what I want to hear,” she said, but Markus didn’t miss that she didn’t seem excited about it. “But it’s not me you have to prove it to initially. It’s the coaches and staff back in Nashville. The team. So I want you to come on up, let us feel you out, and see if there is a spot for you. Your contract is coming up for renewal, but before I make an offer, I want to see what I’m getting.”
“I’d love the opportunity,” he said, but something seemed off. “But can I ask something?”
Elli nodded, and Markus wasn’t sure if this was going to fuck him or help him, but he couldn’t shake the feeling that something else was up. She wasn’t grinning like she usually did, and she sure as hell didn’t look excited to bring him up. “Why didn’t you just call me up? Why did you want to come talk to me face-to-face?”
Clearing her throat, she leaned more on her hands as she nodded. “I was actually getting to that part.” She paused, looking away as she thought over her words. “Coach Baxter doesn’t want you. He doesn’t think you have the game we need. But Jayden believes in you, and I do too, or I wouldn’t have drafted you. Coach feels you are young, that you are reckless, and that you aren’t a team player, which is why he hasn’t considered calling you up. He’s agreeing to it because Jayden has pushed for it, and I agree with Jayden.”