Playing House: A Black Widow Novel (Dark Secrets Duet Book 1)

by Christa Simpson

  “That’s funny; you didn’t say anything about having a hard day when you got home so late last night.”

  “Late? I was home by nine thirty. Practice ran a little longer than normal. You were asleep when I got home and I didn’t want to wake you.”

  “That’s bullshit and you know it,” he snaps, flashing his teeth. “It’s Ryan, isn’t it? You’re seeing him behind my back. You somehow think that twenty minutes here or there will go unnoticed?”

  He acts like this conversation is new, like he doesn’t bring it up every time I’m due to go away. It’s only the five hundredth time he’s accused me of cheating on him, more particularly with Ryan, the blond basketball captain. Even though I find Ryan attractive—everyone does—he has a girlfriend and I’m unavailable. I would never cheat on Finlay. I’ve been nothing but faithful to him.

  Finlay pulls open the driver side door of his car and gets into the front seat. I already know if I don’t go along with him, I’m guaranteed to be late. I pile into the passenger seat with my bag as quickly as I can, but I can’t leave his accusation alone.

  “That is ridiculous. You know I’m not cheating on you. I would never do that to you.”

  As he pulls out of the driveway, he glances at me. “Are you sure about that?”

  “Yes!” My answer is most certain, while my brain spins with uncertainty about leaving him like this. “I told you. Practice ran late. I came straight home.”

  “You came straight home,” he repeats.

  “I promise you!”

  The more we argue, the deeper his foot presses into the accelerator. I try to focus on a passing tree but fail to.

  “You’re telling me you don’t want to fuck Ryan and all his roid-infested teammates?”

  “Finlay,” I moan.

  “I find that hard to believe. I see the way you look at them when they’re out on the court.” He shifts gears, with his voice loud, harsh, and hurtful. If he doesn’t calm down, he’s bound to take out a pole. “Ryan especially,” he adds, barely scraping by the next yellow light.

  I refuse to show him how much it affects me every time we fight like this. He has to know how this hurts. “That’s an asshole thing to say.”

  “But you’re not answering me.”

  “Fuck you. How’s that for an answer?”

  “So you do want him.”

  “Finlay, are you kidding me right now? Are you seriously doing this to me, now?”

  He’s pulling down the long driveway toward the school, and we’re in a full on shouting match. I know if we don’t resolve this in the next five seconds, the whole fucking basketball team is going to see what a train wreck I am.

  He weaves around the car in front of us and slams his brakes, just as a police officer lifts his hand to bring us to a stop. The tires skid across the pavement, leaving the car jolting backward mere inches from the man’s hand. The cop strides toward the car as Finlay opens his window.

  “What’s the hurry?” The officer looks seriously curious to know what has Finlay driving like a maniac. The cop looks across the dashboard to me with raised eyebrows, like I might have a better answer for him.

  “My girlfriend is running a little late.”

  He looks back at Finlay with a hard frown pressed into his mouth. “Maybe next time you should leave yourself a little extra time, right?”

  The officer glances at me again. I cup my elbow and hide the black rings under my eyes with my opposite hand. He can tell we’ve been fighting.

  “Slow down,” he says, leaving Finlay with a gentle warning.

  I blow out a breath as Finlay slowly pulls back into traffic. He quickly resumes his speed and turns toward me.

  “Are you?”

  “Am I what?”

  “Sleeping with him.” He’s seriously unsure whether or not I’m faithful. How can this be a topic of conversation every freaking time I leave his side?

  “Finlay, you know I love you. You’re the only man in my life. Ryan is not even on my radar. You have my heart.”

  As Finlay pulls up to the curb, I lift my bag onto my lap. “I’m leaving now and you need to trust me. Do you think you can do that?”

  His eyes dart down the sidewalk where he finds the last of the basketball team boarding the bus. Ryan must already be on board. Thank God.

  “Maybe I should come, too.” He’s that unsure about me, and his insecurities drive his scary, stalker image to another level.

  “No. I have to do this on my own. You can’t be following me around and driving across the country. What about your work? You have to trust me, Finlay. I’ve not done anything to make you not trust me.”

  I reach for my door handle, but he hits the lock button, trapping me inside the car. With a deep breath, I turn toward him. “You have to let me go.”

  Finlay watches the way my coach waves for me to hurry and how a couple guys on the basketball team have stopped at the back of the bus to stare. Finlay squeezes onto my hand where no one can see but me. I stare at our entwined fingers. The silence has to end.

  “I’m going. I have to go,” I say. “I’ve made this promise to my team. They need me.”

  “No, I need you. I need you, Clarisse.”

  His grip slides down to my wrist, and he shows me a pair of handcuffs that materialize from his pocket. Is he going to forcibly keep me in the car? I fear that he will, but he glances toward the school with regret flickering in his steely eyes. Then he turns back to me.

  “I don’t want you to go.”

  I’m ready to have a panic attack. I want to scream. I’m going to cry. I swallow it back, but it’s hard.

  “I’ve thought of ways I could stop you from going.” He flashes me the cuffs and sadness pours from that wicked smile.

  I look directly into his eyes, hating the wounded look on his face as I explain, “I have to go. We’ve discussed this before. I’m going, Finlay. Let me go.”

  I mean it, both literally and metaphorically, but he still doesn’t release my wrist.

  “Finlay, please.”

  He doesn’t want me to go, but this is important to me. I’ve worked so hard for this. I earned a scholarship that already has a caution tagged onto it thanks to my terrible GPA. If I don’t get my act together, I’ll be cut from the team and dropped from the program. I need to get back to where I was a year ago and earn my life back.

  I turn my eyes to the bus. My coach is looking pissed as she glances at me and then to her phone.

  It’s time for me to man up.

  I press the unlock button and open my door.

  Finlay catches onto my wrist with his other hand and speaks with hostility. “This is a defining moment in our relationship and you’re just going to walk away?”

  I notice how everyone has long ago boarded one of the two buses, and the first one is already pulling away. Coach Kyla is the only one standing by the door of the second bus, staring Finlay down with narrowed eyes. He’s now fidgeting with the handcuffs, and I’m afraid that he might slap them on me yet.

  With a sigh, I finally take a stand. “We will have to talk about this later. This is a responsibility I’m not going to skip out on. I have to go now.”

  I feel overwhelmed by the pressure, but my impatience pulls through long enough for Finlay to loosen his grip enough for me to pull away from him.

  “Don’t I at least get a kiss?” he mocks, as I go to close the door between us. “Or am I not good enough for you anymore?”

  I fear that the worst hasn’t passed yet and glare at him to make my point as I lean across the front seat. “Quit it. I love you,” I say before we share a kiss that feels like a cold goodbye.

  His actions speak volumes. If tension were a visible thing, the car would have been filled to the brim with it. I pull my sports bag out of the car, place the strap on my shoulder, and run to the bus without turning back. I can feel Finlay’s eyes burning into my back, like a warning echoing through my body, but I ignore it.

  “It’s nice to know w
here I stand,” Finlay shouts after me, taking his final stab.

  He turns his head and his car squeals away, knowing how much I hate it when he drives like a crazy person. I hear him grinding gears as he tries to skip a few. I’m not the only one who notices. I close my eyes and try to act unaffected by his childish act, but the truth is, I’m falling apart inside. Coach Kyla leaves it alone for the moment. If she hadn’t, I’m afraid it would have been a little too much.

  When I finally climb onto the bus, my coach follows me up the stairs. “It’s about time you join us, Blackwell,” she says quietly. It looks like I’m spared a lecture this time.

  No one else speaks to me right away. They must see it in my eyes that I can’t handle it right now. We have a six-hour drive ahead of us, and I use the first half of the ride to piece myself back together. Earbuds make it easy for me to sink into my seat and avoid the rest of the team, but I know there will be questions later—questions I’m not sure I’m prepared to answer yet.

  After making good use of the food stop, I rejoin the team on the bus. My girls take the seats right in front of me while I catch my first real breath. I can stop checking over my shoulders now. It looks like Finlay has not followed me, and the bus is speeding down the highway again. I spin around to see who’s sitting behind me and find relief in the knowledge that Ryan is out of earshot. Not that Finlay would know that, but I don’t think I could deal with Ryan’s wit, charm, or sarcasm at this point.

  I face frontwards and smile when no one comments on my situation, but I know it’s not a total win. Things always manage to come back and bite me in the ass later. This would be no exception.

  10: Time Out

  That night, I sleep well, which is a shocker after the long and tiring conversation I’d had with Finlay after the men’s first win. Despite my inner turmoil, worrying about what’s going to happen when I return home, I keep a smile plastered on my face, albeit shaky. I can’t go on like this forever. There are only so many times I can apologize to my roommate before she starts to complain about my phone calls with Finlay. This morning was even worse than usual.

  Coach Kyla eyes me up when I enter the gym. “Sleep well?”

  “I did.”

  She nods, but I know I haven’t convinced her. My shoddy performance is proof enough that I’m lying.

  After the game, I sneak away from the team, and it’s easily accomplished with Savari eating up the attention. I fall behind the main celebration. Even in the highest moment of the weekend, she twists around to make a face at me and make me smile. She’s not trying to be a bitch—I know that—and she doesn’t have to tell me. I can see what fun I’m missing out on.

  Finlay still expects me to call him in between every match with the results. Feeling envious of all the fun they’re having, I pull my phone from my bag and sneak free from the team to call Finlay. I jog out to the hall and keep walking until there is some semblance of quiet while I dial home. It’s frustrating being this loyal and being treated so poorly. Hiding out so no one knows I’m forced to make these steady calls is embarrassing, but I have to do it. Finlay expects nothing less.

  The phone doesn’t get off a full ring. “It’s about time you called,” he answers instantly. “Why don’t you put him on the phone?”

  “What are you talking about, Finlay? I have no idea what you mean.”

  “You know damn well what I mean. Put Ryan on the phone.”

  “Stop it. I don’t like what you’re insinuating.”

  “I know you’re there with him, Clare. I know that’s why you didn’t call sooner. I can’t believe you’d do this to me after all we’ve been through.”

  My coach peeks around the corner and shouts down the hall. “Clarisse, it’s time to go.”

  I bite my lip. “I have to go,” I whisper. “I love you and I promise you I’d never do that.”

  When I end the call, I feel even worse than I did before. A heaviness settles in my chest. It’s becoming difficult to breathe. I consider turning off my phone but know that will only prompt a maniacal visit from Finlay. I wouldn’t be able to handle that.

  When I rejoin the team, Coach Kyla gives me her two cents. “He’s no good for you, Clarisse. You’re on a downward spiral, aiming for the ground and he’s the one driving you there.” She pauses long enough for me to meet her eyes. “Are you going to continue to let him? This is on you. You’re the only one who decides when to leave. Think about that for a while.”

  I try to ignore it, wondering why she’s even bothering with me, but for the first time, it starts to really sink in. I struggle to get through lunch hour and the next game. It doesn’t go very well for the men’s team, either. With a massive loss under our belt, the entire team is down in the dumps. No matter what my ladies do to cheer the guys up, everyone settles into a funk and stays there.

  Welcome to my club.

  Right when I start to think I’m blending in just fine, as everyone boards the buses to return home, Coach Kyla pulls me aside. “Clarisse, listen up, because I’m only going to say this once. You really need to get your priorities straight if you want to stay the head of this team. You’re sinking, woman. Ever since you met Finlay, you’ve been a downer for this team. That man is ruining you and it looks like you’ve already buckled up for the ride.”

  Even though she’s pulled me aside, I know Savari hears every word of it. Her and that new guy who keeps hitting on her. As my phone buzzes in my bag, I turn away, so they can’t read my face. I quickly excuse myself to the restroom to pick up Finlay’s call before he thinks something is really up. It’s the second time I’ve heard it going off since I talked to him after the game. Coach Kyla knows exactly what I’m doing, but she lets me go without an argument.

  “Hello,” I answer softly, as I lock the bathroom door and sit on the edge of the toilet seat fully clothed.

  “I’m sorry, baby,” Finlay says. “I didn’t mean it. You aren’t mad at me, are you? I couldn’t live with myself if I knew you were upset because of me. Please tell me everything’s okay—that we’re okay.”

  Even though I know it’s a spastic lie, I tell him. “I’m fine.” Truth is I’m still burning from the conversation I had with my coach. How dare she call me out like that and publicly ambush me? Without thinking, I tell him about it.

  “Coach Kyla decided to have a little talk with me.”

  His voice turns hard, but this time it’s directed at someone else. “What did she have to say?”

  “She says you’re bad for me, that I should leave you and focus on the team—get my priorities straight.”

  His voice turns as cold as a dead body floating in a December lake. “I never liked that bitch.”

  The conversation doesn’t turn much warmer after that. I wish I had a pillow to cry into, but instead I suck it up and hope the strain doesn’t show in my face. “I know. I just need a breath,” I tell him. “We’ll talk when I get home.”

  I don’t know what happens while I’m away, but when I return to the team I’m bombarded by squad members. Savari slings her arm over my shoulder and walks with me the rest of the way to the bus. Coach Kyla lets me have it again—this time in front of the three girls surrounding her. They have obviously been talking about me behind my back.

  “This relationship is not good for you. Your boyfriend’s destroying your soul,” Coach Kyla says. “He’s snuffed your light. Things have to change, Clarisse. I’m afraid if you keep this up you won’t be recovering because it’ll be too late. None of us want that for you.”

  Savari stops her as my tears start to flow and wash the makeup clean off my face.

  Coach Kyla’s voice settles, but I can tell she’s only worked up because she cares about me. “I’m sorry. I feel very invested in your future, Clarisse. You’re a good girl, you’ve been an amazing teammate, and to see you like this is depressing for everyone watching. You deserve more out of life.”

  Her words continue to slice me like a knife, but she just keeps talking.

&n
bsp; “You can’t keep doing this to yourself. You look like shit. We know you’re not happy and we’re all here for you, if you need us, but you have to let us in. If you don’t want to talk to me, fine, but you have to talk to someone.”

  She walks away, leaving my voice tight in my throat. I flash a glance at Savari but quickly look away. Savari doesn’t demand my attention, but her words are just as evocative. She tucks a strand of icy blonde hair behind her ear.

  “What are you doing, Clare? If you don’t want this guy, okay then, but don’t let Coach Kyla make decisions for you. She can’t control you, just like he can’t. Only you, lady. Think about what you want and then go for it. Don’t let anyone—not me, not her, and most certainly not Finn—make your decision for you. Only you.” She tucks my index finger against my chest and holds it there to make a point.

  I take her offering seriously, silently thanking her with teary eyes and a nod. I start crying and don’t stop for a long while. The truth is, I know exactly why I’m crying. Guidance and order is exactly what I need right now. I’ve been clinging to Coach Kyla’s strict schedule and rigorous training because it’s the only thing I can rely on. It’s the only thing that doesn’t hurt in a bad way. It is the only time I have to myself where I can push myself to my limits and forget about the rest of my messed up life.

  It is in this moment that I wake up. I will never forget this very second. I love Finlay. I love him more than anyone and anything I’ve ever loved, myself included. But more than life itself? No.

  Hell, no!

  I’m having a hard time imagining how I will ever find another man in the future who will love me like he does, but maybe I won’t, and that’s a good thing. I need some time to myself. I need a chance to have alone time where I can rest my head and do what I want or do nothing at all, for that matter. I only need to regain control of my own life again. I want to make the decisions like I once did.

  I can do this.

  “When I get home, things are going to change,” I admit out loud. My voice is strong and determined, not at all like the cowering woman I’ve become of late.