Breakaway (The Rule Book Collection)

by A. M. Johnson

  “I’m about twenty minutes away.”

  She laughed. “Take your time. I’ll have to prepare the guys. They may faint when you walk in.”

  “They handled themselves alright that night at the bar,” I joked as I pushed my key into the ignition.

  “They were sitting down. Apparently my boss’s boyfriend has ‘shipped’ us. Whatever the hell that means.”

  My laugh rumbled in my chest. “I think it means they’ve combined our last names.”

  She groaned. “Like a power couple?”

  “Yeah, I think so.” My laughter faded, but my smile remained. “Stuff like this might happen in the media. You alright with that?”

  She paused, her exhale long and shaky. “I want to be.”

  “It takes time, Stevie… let’s focus on lunch… for now.”

  “Food.”

  “Is there anything better?”

  “I hear sleep…”

  I chuckled. “So it seems.”

  “You didn’t stay the night?” David eyed me over his cup of Starbucks.

  I avoided his stare, rearranging a few pens on my desk with nervous fingers as I shook my head. The thing was, I’d barely started at Byron & Elm, and yes, they treated me like I’d worked here forever. And David was probably my favorite person in the office, but my relationship status was too public for only having worked here less than two weeks.

  David gasped and I lifted my gaze.

  “Oh my God,” he squeaked.

  “What?”

  “He didn’t kick you out, did he?”

  “No, I left. I had to work… as you know.”

  He sipped his coffee again. “Good, I was going to tell Trent he’s not allowed to fanboy for that prick if he’d one-timed you.”

  “We didn’t one time anything, and…” I exhaled. “Why am I even talking about this? Go away.” I laughed as I said it and David leaned back in his chair getting cozy.

  “So you went to his place and… nothing happened?” He narrowed his dubious eyes.

  “Just so you know… I find you very nosy.” I bit my lip trying to hold back my smirk.

  “I’m the secretary.” He waved his left hand dramatically in front of him. “I know everything, and I’m fucking the boss…well, one of them.”

  “So, you’re a walking cliché?” I asked, shutting my laptop.

  “I earned that role, thank you very much.” David’s grin was impervious.

  I toyed with the corner of my desktop calendar. I hadn’t had more than a quick five-minute chat with Reagan today. She’d made me break down what had happened last night into a ninety-second, gory display of details, in which, she’d basically virtually high-fived me, and said she had to hustle or she was going to be late for her first appointment of the day. Ray was biased though, and I think if she could, she’d tell me to walk through fire if it meant I’d get to do something I wanted for once. I stared at David. He’d become a fast friend, and he didn’t know me well enough to necessarily lead me astray for the greater good of my vagina.

  “Hypothetically…” I started, and he inched to the edge of his chair. “How soon is too soon to make a relationship official?”

  “Hockey guy that good, huh?”

  I laughed. “You’re absurd.” He shrugged. “Last night, Mark called himself my boyfriend.”

  “That was fast.”

  “Right?”

  David settled back into his chair. “You don’t want to be official? Too soon after…”

  I hated that everyone here knew about Ben. I guess it came with the territory when your ex set you up with the job.

  “No… I think I like that he wants to be official. I guess I’m—”

  “Scared?”

  “More… naïve. I’ve only ever been with my ex, and it all feels really new. I’m thirty-three years old, and I haven’t done this since high school. The rules have changed.”

  David surprised me by laughing. “The man practically wrote them for you the minute he called himself ‘the boyfriend’. It’s easy now. Exclusivity is so much better than floundering, wondering who’s doing who and all that.”

  I chewed the corner of my lip. I was overthinking again. “You’re right.”

  He hummed his agreement. “And he’s gone a lot. He’s just protecting his investment while he’s away. Smart man. I think I like him already.” David’s brows dipped. “As long as he behaves on the road.”

  I couldn’t deny the idea hadn’t crossed my mind. He’s a famous hockey player. I’d looked up the term ‘puck bunny’ on the Internet this morning and got a little nauseated. Female fans willing to do whatever the athlete was down for. It was all very cheap and sad if I thought about it long enough. Mark didn’t seem the type who was into the philosophy of having a different woman every night. No, Mark wasn’t into that. I smiled. He was into me.

  My phone vibrated on my desk, and when I opened the lock screen, there was a text from Mark letting me know he was parking.

  “Is that him?” David asked.

  His excitement made me even more nervous.

  “Yes, now seriously, go away, and keep the rabid fans on a leash, would you, please?” I offered him my most polite smile.

  He chuckled as he stood. “I promise you nothing.”

  “And I thought you were my favorite.”

  “Oh, well, in that case…”

  David waved over his shoulder as he left my office. The room was too empty without him sitting across from me, and my heart was practically flying as I stood. I wiped my hands down the front of my gray pencil skirt. Smoothing away invisible lines. Licking my lips, I cinched my loose bun, causing a few strands to fall around my face. Silently cursing my nerves, I pushed my glasses up the bridge of my nose. Most of the time I wore contacts, but after a night with hardly any sleep, my eyes had already been burning. Without my contacts, I was less confident, but before my hands had a chance to start shaking, he strolled into my office with purpose.

  “Hey,” I spoke as my lips broke into a smile, and my fingers picked at the hem of my dark purple blouse.

  His hair was damp, flopping over his forehead, and it curled around his ears and the nape of his neck. He wore distressed jeans and a white and gray, long-sleeved Tampa Bay t-shirt that fit snug across his chest and biceps. The sleeves were pushed up to his elbows, and my eyes traced all the ink on his forearms before trailing them back to his cinnamon-colored eyes.

  His smile was sewn into his dimples as he rubbed his hand along his beard-covered chin. He watched me from the doorway, his eyes touching every inch of my body, and I tried not to remember what that beard had felt like along the soft skin of my thighs.

  He chuckled as heat filled my cheeks. “Anyway I can talk you into letting me live out my librarian fantasy, instead of having lunch?”

  I pressed my lips together, hiding my growing smile, and my eyes flicked to the open door. “Unlike you, I can’t be traded to another company. I would simply get fired.”

  He took three large steps toward the desk and the empty feeling from earlier disappeared. “Maybe next time, or after you’ve figured out the office politics? The comings and goings…”

  “Maybe.”

  I could feel the weight of his gaze as I grabbed my keys. Willing away my insecurities, I dropped them into my purse and pulled the strap over my shoulder.

  “Ready?” he asked when I stepped from behind the desk.

  “I should be asking you that question.” I nodded my head to the small window next to my office door. The blinds were open and most of the staff were pretending, quite poorly, to mill about in the lobby. “Looks like someone alerted the fans.”

  He turned and his shoulders shook with humor. I exhaled a deep breath and laced my fingers through his. Mark squeezed my hand and kissed me softly on the mouth once, twice, and the third time his tongue swept across my lips. Everyone in my office was getting a show, but the mint flavor of his mouth, the warmth of his kiss, in that very un-private moment, I rememb
ered what it was like to be me, who I’d once been. Mark had the uncanny ability of making me feel at home in my own skin. Even if I was on fire and smattered with a million goose bumps.

  When he pulled away, his smile was all challenge and mischief as he said, “Let’s make a run for it.”

  Chatter and steam, the smell of bacon and maple syrup saturated the space of the small diner. Crashing pans, the clicking of silverware and glasses, the bustled energy of Six Spoons made it hard to hear myself think. I liked it. No time for any useless head talk. The place was fashioned after a train car. The narrowed room hardly had space for the ten tables and a long breakfast bar that ran the length of it. Everything was stainless steel and red-glittered vinyl. Old records were hung on the walls between framed autographed pictures of famous singers from the fifties and sixties. This was the kind of place where they yelled your order to the guy working the open grill, and the waitresses all had big hair, too much eye shadow, and pink lipstick that smudged their teeth. It had character, and you were guaranteed to gain at least five pounds by walking in.

  I moaned as I took a bite of my crepe and spoke around a mouthful of Nutella, peanut butter, mascarpone, and strawberries. “When I die, I think my heaven will be created with these crepes.”

  “S’good,” he mumbled around a huge bite of his veggie and cheese omelet. He took a gulp of his orange juice before he said, “I found this place right after I moved here. It reminds me of the restaurant I used to go to with my parents for Sunday breakfast back in Redding.”

  “Do you miss New Hampshire?”

  “Every day. I miss the seasons. Here, it’s hot, hot as fuck, and then chilly. You haven’t seen a real fall until you’ve spent the season in New Hampshire.” He chewed on another bite of his omelet before he continued. “More than anything, I miss my family, mostly my niece.”

  “Awe.” I smirked and his smile lightened his eyes. “I didn’t have much of a family-oriented culture growing up.” I laughed. “It’s cute how much you love your family… your niece.”

  “She’s my soft spot.” He pointed to his ribs. “I have the coordinates for Manchester tattooed right along here. It’s a reminder, when everything feels too far gone, so I won’t lose my head. It’s a reminder of where she is… where home is.”

  “I’m kind of in love with that.”

  His eyes were a warm shade of amber as his smile tickled his lashes. “I’m kind of in love with her.”

  I never wanted kids. Never thought I would have the time to give them the attention they needed, and I wondered if he wanted kids. If our age difference, if this became something truly serious, would that become an unyielding wedge between us.

  “Do…” My heart fluttered. “Do you want kids of your own?”

  I kept my eyes on my plate, my fork picking at a strawberry when he answered, “Not really, no. I’m gone all the time, I barely have time for my dog.”

  “What about when you retire? You’re only twenty-six, you may change your mind over time.”

  “Hockey has always been my life, and I’ve dedicated myself to that ideal. I love my niece, the kids who come to camp every summer… but I never really pictured it for myself. Being a father. I don’t think time will change that.” The thrumming of my heart ebbed as I looked at him from under my lashes. Mark was watching me carefully, too. “Do you? Want kids?”

  He seemed younger, a little naïve himself in this moment. He was worried, too. Worried about what I wanted, what I might expect, and a nervous giggle escaped as I said, “No. Is that weird?”

  “I don’t think so.”

  “For a while, I thought maybe I just didn’t want to have kids with Ben. Honestly, over the years… I think I became more selfish with my time. I’m an only child. I’d be a terrible parent.”

  He laughed and playfully knocked his foot into mine under the table. “I think if you wanted it, you’d be a great mom.”

  “I should try a dog… or a cat first.”

  “Atlas definitely liked you. I think you’re a natural dog person.”

  He was trying to simplify the mood, but my mind went straight to the gutter. The mention of Atlas conjured up all sorts of memories from last night, and I blushed again. Mark leaned in, his hand reaching across the small table. He touched the tip of his thumb to the top of my hand, drawing gentle lines along my skin.

  “That blush is fucking killing me,” he whispered. “The glasses, your hair is up in a bun...” His eyes darkened with need and I fidgeted in my seat. One look. The ache built, pulsing, pooling between my legs. “I hate that I have to leave.”

  “Five days?”

  He exhaled a harsh breath and leaned back. “Yeah. We have a back to back Wednesday and Thursday. A couple days off and finish the trip with a game on Sunday against L.A.”

  “I don’t know how you do it.”

  His jaw clenched and he stared over my shoulder for a few ticks before giving me eye contact again. His gaze swept over my face and his posture relaxed. “This trip is rough. These teams are some of the top in the league. We were shit at practice today.”

  “Do you think you can beat them?”

  The hard line of his jaw faded into a crooked, prideful smile. “Hell yeah. If we keep our heads on straight.”

  “Anything I can do?” I teased, and his lips parted over perfect, straight, white teeth. He was flawless.

  “Send me dirty pictures before the game to wish me luck.”

  I laughed hard, my orange juice almost shooting from my nostrils as I swallowed down my sip. “Not likely.”

  “It could mean the difference between a win and a loss. Hockey players are very superstitious.” His tone was comically serious.

  “How dirty?”

  His smile radiated, his eyes locked on mine, his grin painted across his face in triumph.

  “I’ll leave that up to you.”

  I secretly smiled as I thought about sending him pictures of my toilet and used dishes.

  “I think I’ll pass on the porn pics and send you a ‘good luck’, or an ‘attaboy’.”

  His lips only spread farther, reaching well past his dimples as he said, “We’ll see.”

  The mood at my mother’s house hadn’t changed over the years. The air was tinged with tobacco and vanilla as my mom exhaled an intricate looking gray cloud from her lips, dashing the two-inch ash of her cigarillo into the tray that sat on her lap. I smiled at how long she’d let it go this time. Her hair was fashioned into her signature salt and pepper side braid. She’d worn her hair like that for as long as I could remember, only ever taking it down right before bed. Music played quietly from the radio that sat on the breakfast bar, the same classic rock station she’d always listened to, and as I leaned back into the worn, rose-colored upholstery of the hand-me-down couch we’d had since I was ten, I soaked myself in all of the nostalgia. The wallpaper was still some crazy seventies floral pattern, and the only upgrade she’d done to the place had been to rip out the rugs for tile. Shelves of books, books I’d loved to get lost in when I was a kid, were overflowing now. Pictures of me, a few with Ben, as well, were scattered throughout the small living room. I was in a time capsule. This house held parts of me I didn’t recognize anymore, and the parts I wanted to forget.

  “Are you settled?” she asked, bringing the butt of her cigarillo to her lips.

  Her mouth crinkled and mine spread into a bright smile. I missed my mom’s easy spirit, missed how easy it was to sink into her soft features and relax. She was a balm to my soul sometimes. Even if she’d made poor life choices, and had carted my childhood around for the ride, she was all the family I’d ever have.

  “Almost. I haven’t finished unpacking all the way. I’ve been… busy.” I curled my jean-clad legs under my body and shimmied into my favorite corner of the couch.

  “That firm you’re working for, it’s better than the one you worked at in Richmond?” she asked, blowing smoke from her nostrils like a dragon.

  “Much better. It
feels good to be on my own.”

  “I could have told you that.” She winked and I fought the urge to frown.

  My mother hadn’t been happy when I ran off and got married at nineteen. She’d told me I was throwing away “valuable life experience” and, at the time, my only thought had been how life with Ben was stable, and how we’d save money living in married student housing on campus. Virginia Commonwealth University hadn’t been cheap, and the old me, Ben’s wife, worried more about pragmatism and less about hearts and romance.

  I chose my words carefully as I spoke, “It was important, Mom. For me to find my own way. I’m not like you… or at least that’s what I always told myself. I married Ben because I needed something sure, and he was my sure thing, but…” My eyes collided with hers. The pale brown of her irises sparkled with unshed tears. The cigarette between her fingers almost burnt down to the filter. “I was afraid of the unknown, of getting hurt. I’ve watched you get hurt so many times.”

  “That’s the thing, I got hurt, but I got to bounce back. I got to experience love on both sides of the coin, bad and good, and the line between passion and self-preservation, I crossed it and I’ll never regret it.”

  “Love and passion were both variables I chose to sacrifice...” My voice was stretched tight. “And I lost myself… I’ve wasted too much time.”

  My mom shook her head as she stamped the smoking butt into the tray. “Stevie, time is never wasted. With Ben… you learned something, right?” I nodded as she wiped away a few stray tears from under her eyes and smiled. “You learned what you can’t live without. It takes most people a long time to figure out what they want from life. You’re young, lucky to be getting another chance, so listen to your crazy mom this time when she tells you never settle.”

  I laughed as my lips parted into a watery smile. “Mom, there’s never going to be one perfect person. You, of all people, should know that.”

  She winced and the guilt churned in my stomach. I hadn’t meant it to be a barb, but it was true. My mother’s list of lovers was a mile, maybe a few miles long, and she hadn’t found her “soul mate” yet.