Her dull gaze slides to Ivy and Gray. “You too. I’m so grateful that you guys came here for me, but now I want you to go.”
Ivy nods, her expression broken. “Okay, Fi. We’ll give you space.”
“Now wait just a minute,” Sean starts, only to be cut off by Fi again.
“Please, Daddy. I can’t.” Her chin quivers, but she stays firm. “I need this. Please go now.”
I feel sorry for the guy; he looks gutted. For a second we all stand there, no one making a sound. And then Sean sighs. “All right, Fiona. I’ll go.”
He moves like the walking wounded, slowly gathering his phone from the table. Gray clears his throat. “We’ll go with you, Sean.”
Ivy looks around as if she suddenly doesn’t know which way is out. “I’ll just… There’s coffee, and I baked you a pecan pie, and…right.” Her gaze goes to Fi, but she doesn’t make any move to hug her as if she knows Fi won’t want it now. “Call me, okay?”
“Okay.” Fi stares at the floor, her body stiff, her arms clutching her middle. She looks so small and defeated, I’m crushed all over again. I murmur my goodbyes but keep my eyes on Fi.
It isn’t until we’re alone in the silent house that I move to hold her. But her hand swipes up, coming between us. “I meant it,” she says. “I want to be alone for a while.”
Leaving her alone goes against every instinct I have. But I do it. Because whatever Fi wants, I’ll give to her.
Chapter Forty
Dex
Walking down the dark tunnel from the locker room toward the bright light of the field beyond is an activity I’ve always paid attention to. I think a lot of guys do. And it sounds crazy, but the imagery is unavoidable—the dawn of a new game, a new opportunity to change your fate, to win.
It’s different at halftime. You can be on top of the world, kicking ass, or lower than sludge, down by horrific numbers, or somewhere in between. In those minutes, those steps between cool darkness and harsh brightness, you make a decision within yourself—quit or to keep fighting.
All the inspirational speeches, tongue lashings, or hand clapping can’t do it for you. It’s something every man has to find in himself. Sure, we’re a team. But no matter how you cut it, a team is made up of individuals, and is only as strong as its weakest link.
I’m almost at the end of the tunnel when it comes to Fi. I can see the light and the possibilities of us. But right now, it’s fucking dark. I’m afraid for her. She’s been battered by this shit, and I don’t know how to fix it.
God, I want to fix it. I want to keep her safe, shelter her from all this ugliness. Just keep her. Forever. She’s mine. Mine to protect.
But I give her the space she asks for. Fucking hate that word now. Space just means I’m alone in my courtyard, and Fi is holed up in our room, napping. That’s all she does now: nap.
And I can’t snap her out of it. She doesn’t want to go out—not that I can blame her. Far too many people recognize her now for all the wrong reasons. It probably isn’t a good idea anyway, considering I’m likely to beat the shit out of someone if they make the wrong remark.
I try to entice her to at least come out of the room, watch a movie, work out with me, anything. Sex is out of the question. She changes in the bathroom and crawls under the covers before I can get near her. She always cuddles close in at night, but if I try to touch her in any way that’s sexual, she freezes.
When I ask what’s wrong, she shakes her head and says the same thing. “I just keep thinking of all those people looking at me naked. It turns my skin, Ethan.”
What can I say to that?
Sitting on my tractor tire, I stare up at the window to our room. I ache for Fi.
It’s fairly cool outside, the air laden with humidity. I feel it in all my joints and along my shins. My phone buzzes in my back pocket. It’s Drew calling.
“Hey, man,” I say as I answer.
“Hey. How’s Fi?”
I pinch the bridge of my nose. “Not great. She’s listless, not interested in anything. It’s like she’s just…slipping away, you know?”
“Sounds like she’s depressed.”
“I know that, Battle,” I snap, then sigh. “I just don’t know what to do about it.”
I gave a press statement, saying Fi was my serious girlfriend and someone I admired and cared for. The implication being that all the Fi-haters needed to fuck off. It did precisely dick.
Drew’s voice is low. “You need to get her out of the house.”
“She won’t go.”
“Tough love, Dex. Be the guy who kicked my ass every time I moped. You’re the anchor, our Big Daddy, and so on.”
I laugh without much humor. “I really don’t want to play Big Daddy for Fi.”
He laughs too. “Yeah, okay, not that. But the other shit.”
I glance up at the window again. “She’s fragile right now. I don’t want to hurt her anymore.”
“You won’t. But that’s kind of the point of tough love, isn’t it? You do what has to be done no matter what.”
No matter what. I push off from my seat on the tire. “I gotta take care of some things,” I tell Drew. “Call you later.”
“Good luck, man.”
I’ll probably need it. I hang up and head into the house.
* * *
Fiona
For the most part, I avoid the phone. I answer Violet’s call because I know she won’t give up until we talk, and it’s rude to leave her worried.
“I am going to fucking rip this fucking company wide open,” she promises, her voice shooting through the phone like street justice.
“No, you aren’t,” I tell her sternly. “I won’t have you risking jail time for me. Revenge doesn’t get my pride back.”
“It’s a start.”
“No, Violet. No,” I repeat again because I need her to hear me. “Promise me you won’t touch them. I’ll just worry and be upset if I think you’re breaking the law.”
She huffs, loud and sharp. “Okay. Fine. But I have to do something.” I can hear her nails clack on her desk. “I know! I’m sending you a kickass bag.”
“A bag?”
“A new handbag always makes me feel better. Oh, Prada has the cutest little turquoise clutch. I’m sending you that. My cousin works at Vogue. She can get anything.”
We chat for a while but it exhausts me. I beg off by saying Ethan is home. A lie. But it sounds better than telling her I just don’t have it in me to talk anymore.
A text follows a short time later, one that I can’t ignore. It’s from my old co-worker Alice.
AliceW: Thought this might cheer you up. Elena’s out. Felix gave her the boot this morning.
Me: Get the Papa Smurf out! Why?
AliceW: Apparently her designs for Cecelia Robertson’s apartment ended up being an exact copy of Janice Mark’s new penthouse. Cecelia was humiliated. Which means Felix was too. He’s in the shit now.
I blink at the phone, my mouth hanging open. Holy fuck. Elena used the designs anyway. I’d told her they were bad. Then again, I hadn’t exactly explained why they were bad. Maybe she took my words to mean bad quality.
I wait for the guilt to hit but it doesn’t come. I can only shake my head. Part of me hopes she’s learned her lesson. The other half of me doesn’t give a good ripe grape what happens to her. Once a thief always a thief, I guess.
I answer Alice.
Me: I am agog.
AliceW: Take care of yourself, kid. We (and by that I mean all of us lowly workers) are giving Bloom the finger on your behalf.
Me: Thx. Give everyone (and by that I mean all of you lowly workers) a big hug.
After that revelation, I drift off for a while. Then I call my mother. I can’t help it. All I want to do is sleep, hide under the soft protection of the covers, and I know it isn’t healthy. I know this, and yet I can’t stop doing it. I’ve pushed Ethan away, ignoring the pain in his eyes. Ignoring everything, even the thoughts in my head.
> My eyes are gritty from too much crying, and my skin feels swollen, as if I’ll soon split down the middle. I know I’m being maudlin and dramatic. I can’t keep on like this. So I call my mother.
Even as the line rings, I sweat and wonder why I had to turn to Mom. She answers before I can gather the courage to hang up.
“Fiona, darling girl,” she says by way of greeting.
“Hey, Mom.” My voice wobbles, and my eyes smart.
“I was going to call to tell you I’ve booked a flight to see you.”
I clutch my phone. “No. Don’t do that. Please.” I suck in a breath. “It’s harder when I have to face you guys.”
Silence ticks for a beat. “Sean told me you gave him his walking orders. He was quite put out.”
“I didn’t mean to hurt his feelings, Mom. I just couldn’t deal with…anything.”
“You don’t want to be coddled,” she says. “I understand. More than you know.”
An ugly memory stirs, of Mom taking to her room after dad’s numerous affairs became public. Which was kind of a joke because his cheating surprised absolutely no one, including her. But the public humiliation was too much.
“I don’t know how to get past this,” I tell her, my eyes welling up.
“You just do.” Her voice is soft, soothing. “Time goes on, and things get easier.”
“I tried to go out, but people looked at me…” My stomach clenches, remembering the way the delivery guy seemed to leer at my chest when I’d gone to pay for the carryout Ethan had ordered.
Ethan had stepped in a second later, gently putting me behind him and paying the guy. He didn’t say a word. Didn’t have to. It was obvious to the terrified delivery guy that he was a few seconds away from breathing out of a tube. He took his money and practically sprinted away.
It might feel good to have Ethan to stand over me like a protective bear, but he can’t be there all the time. And he can’t keep people from thinking what they want.
Some jackhole reporter pulled up pictures of me kissing Jaden—that silly stunt that feels like an eternity ago—and now they’re calling me a money chaser, the same type as the woman who made my mom cry and my dad stray. I shouldn’t care what strangers think. It’s a horrifying realization to know that I do.
Mom is talking again, drawing my attention back to the present. “Why don’t you come to London instead?”
“I don’t know…”
“No one here gives a fig about American football. You can relax. We can go Christmas shopping, have hot toddies, perhaps attend a musical.”
It sounds so perfectly lovely that I tear up again and sniffle. I miss my mom. I miss being a kid under her care, when the biggest worry I had was doing my homework on time and whether she’d let me have cookies after school.
Mom’s voice is coaxing, working over me like spun sugar. “Think about it, darling girl.”
I close my eyes and take a breath. “Okay.”
Chapter Forty-One
Dex
I find Fi in the kitchen. She isn’t drinking or eating or preparing anything. Which worries me. It isn’t like her to stand around, staring off at nothing.
Fi is light and love. Happiness and laughter. Even when she’s peaceful she has a radiance. But it’s gone now. She’s pale and quiet. Her hair has lost its shine, hanging limp around her pretty face.
I want to go to her, hold her close. But lately she flinches when I touch her. And it hurts too much for me to risk it right now. “Hey, Cherry.”
Fi blinks as if pulling out of a fog. “Hey. Were you working out?”
“No. Just sitting outside for a while.”
My naturally curious girl doesn’t ask why. Drew is right; I need to snap her out of this. Even if I have to haul her out over my shoulder.
“I was talking to Drew.”
She winces, her shoulders hunching in. “Let me guess, about me.”
“He wanted to see how you were doing. He cares about you, Fi.”
She shakes her head. “You know you’re fucked up when you’d rather no one cared.”
“You don’t mean that.”
“But I do,” she snaps, her eyes hard and cold. “I’d be perfectly happy if I never got asked how I’m doing again.”
It’s my turn to wince. Because I ask her every day. I’m hovering, annoying her with my concern. Her expression tells me that’s exactly what she’s thinking.
My head begins to pound along with my heart. I run a tired hand over my brow, not knowing what the fuck to say anymore.
Fi runs a finger along the grain in the marble countertop. “I was on the phone too. Talking to my mom.”
I’ve met Fi’s mom twice. Fi has her coloring, but Ivy has her features. I’m looking forward to meeting her as Fiona’s man, but I don’t think that’s what this conversation is about. Instinct has me bracing for impact.
Fi’s gaze flicks to mine. “She asked me to come to London.”
“London. Now?” The pounding in my heart gets harder, faster.
Fi shrugs, studies the marble. “I could go out there. Do things. Not be trapped.”
Trapped like she is here with me.
I run a hand through my beard and discover my fingers are trembling. “I can’t go with you right now, Fi.”
She doesn’t look up. “I know.”
I’ve been hit by three-hundred-pound men intent on mowing me down—that hurts less than those two flat words. She doesn’t want me to come.
Her voice is soft when she speaks, as if she’s trying to spare my feelings. “You once said we should take a step back until things blow over.”
“And you told me I was wrong.” Tell me I’m wrong again. Fight for us.
“Maybe you were right.”
My throat clogs, and I have to clear it. “You said you didn’t want to be apart.”
“I didn’t—don’t. But this…” She gestures to the windows and the world outside of it. “Is no way to live.”
“So stop hiding. Let’s go out there, and fuck what anyone thinks.”
Her eyes flash, deep green and angry. “Easy for you to say.”
“It isn’t easy at all, Fi. This whole thing fucking kills me.”
“Then help me,” she says, leaning toward me, her slim body tight and tense. “I can’t stand this, Ethan.”
I can’t look at her. Not without losing it.
“It’s not forever,” she says.
She’s right. It’s just a trip, not the end. But it feels like it. I have a sickening fear that the second she walks out my door, she’ll be lost to me.
I want to fight for her. Insist that she be with me. But I can’t be selfish. If I force her to stay, I’ll lose her anyway. Fi isn’t an object. She’s the woman I love. And if she needs her mother right now, that’s what she’ll get.
I swallow hard, and it feels like I’m drinking down chunks of glass. When I talk, my stomach turns over.
“Let me know when you want to go, and I’ll book you a flight.”
Chapter Forty-Two
Dex
I go to bed first and wait in the dark for Fi to finish up in the bathroom. I used to sleep sprawled out, dead center in my bed. No more. I have a side now—the left, which is closest to the door. I chose it because of some deep instinctual need to place myself between Fi and any possible harm that might come into the room.
Won’t matter much when she goes to London. I know I should suck it up. It’s just a trip. But it feels like failure. She’s going because I fucked up.
I run a hand over the center of my chest. It’s constricted, not letting me breathe properly. I hear the sounds of running water stop and then Fi flicking off the bathroom light of as she comes into the room.
I stare up at the ceiling. I used to love watching her walk toward the bed, her hips swaying, a smile touching her lips. God, I loved that sight, loved seeing the heat in her eyes. Most nights, we couldn’t keep our hands off each other. It’s too hard looking at her these days, knowin
g she doesn’t want me to touch her anymore.
The covers lift, and I steel myself for that inevitable moment when she whispers “Goodnight” and curls in on herself.
But she doesn’t do that. She moves across the bed, toward me, the action so surprising that I turn her way to question it just as she snuggles up against me. I automatically wrap her in my arms, my body reacting before my brain can catch up. But then I feel her smooth, warm skin against mine and realize she’s naked.
Hell.
She hasn’t come to bed naked in what feels like forever. A tremor goes through me as my hand runs down the small of her back. I’ve missed this. Just holding her. I want to roll her over and push into her, but I keep still, afraid to break this spell that finally has her back in my arms. Her face burrows into my neck as her hands grip my shoulders.
“Thank you, Ethan.”
I frown down at the crown of her head, her wild hair shining silver in the darkened room. “For what?”
Fi leans back a little, lifting her face to mine. “For letting me go.”
It’s hard, looking her in the eye. I don’t want her to see my grimace. Having her stay because of guilt is absolutely out of the question. So I distract her, and myself, by caressing her arm. “You’ll go…” I clear my throat. “You’ll go and have some quality time with your mom. It will be good.”
That’s about as much as I can say without caving and begging her not to leave me.
Fi’s bright eyes shine in the lantern light streaming through the windows. Her expression is thoughtful. “I know you’re unhappy,” she murmurs, running her fingers through my beard.
“I’m happy when you’re happy.” It’s as simple as that.
She sighs and leans close, pressing her forehead to mine. I close my eyes and just breathe, soaking in as much of her as I can. And she does the same, breathing deep and slow, her touch roaming over me, petting and stroking.
The Game Plan (Game On #3) Page 25