by dlady
“Roberta would be perfect for you,” Darcie said. “She wouldn’t care if you were making minimum wage. She’s always been there.” She had to get a plug in for her best friend.
“Roberta and I aren’t happening,” Jared said. “There’s no spark.”
“Yeah, sparks have served you well in the past.” Darcie was known for her sarcasm, and she didn’t disappoint.
“I’m starving.” Georgia was already tired of the current discussion. She didn’t have much patience when it came to her brothers’ woes with women, especially when they ignored her advice, which was just about always.
“We’re heading to the Irish pub for a late dinner. Let’s go. I’ll treat.” Jared was more than happy to escape the confines of this small space, made smaller by his larger-than-life family.
“Are you sure?” His mother’s expression was one of concern.
“I’m fine, Mom.”
“Jared, I don’t want you to break the bank for us. We can buy our own meals.”
“I’m fine.” Or he would be as soon as his next paycheck cleared the bank in a few days.
There was a mad rush to pull coats from the closet and put them on, then they were outside in the misty, chilly evening. At least it wasn’t raining.
His mother fell into step beside him as the others walked ahead. “I’m worried about you, Jerry.”
“I’m fine.” He tried to keep the irritation from his voice but wasn’t successful.
“Are you?”
“You seem to be floundering.”
“I’m getting my life back on track.” He stared straight ahead, prickly and defensive.
“How’s Stephanie?”
He stumbled and scrambled to regain his footing. He hadn’t expected such an abrupt change of subject, unless Steph was a well-concealed non-change of subject.
“She’s better today.”
“Too bad we won’t get to see her before we leave.”
“She’s sorry for that. Doesn’t want to spread the crud around.”
His mother shrewdly assessed him. “You’re not fooling me.”
“What do you mean?”
“You might be enamored of her, but she’s not ready. At least not the way you want her to be.”
“Why do you think that?”
“She practically runs from you when you’re nearby, but you’re always watching her with this longing in your eyes.”
“Mom.” He hated being psychoanalyzed in such a fashion. God knew, he should be used to it.
His mother laughed. “I know you. You fall fast and hard. Unfortunately, you married the last woman you fell for. You like being part of a couple. Candy was all wrong for you in so many ways, but so is Steph in different ways.”
“Like what?”
“She’s emotionally unavailable.”
“You think so?”
“Honey, I know so. That one might appear sweet and uncomplicated on the outside, but she’s hauling around some major baggage.”
The worst part about his mother’s advice was that he feared she was right.
Chapter 9—Stick Checking
Jared hesitated in the doorway of the hotel bar. He couldn’t sleep after a hard-fought game in which he’d sat in the penalty box more than usual after losing his temper multiple times. They’d lost, and he hated losing. Not a great way to start a four-game road trip.
He had decided he could either lie in bed and beat himself up over every mistake he made, or he could chill with a brew and some nachos.
He hated to admit the source of some of his frustrations might be Steph. His family had left yesterday, and he’d tried to reach her, invite her out for coffee. She’d declined and told him to have a good road trip. Talk about flipping him the figurative finger.
Maybe it was for the best.
He did hear from the sisters. A week from today, they’d arranged another date with a different woman. Instead of looking forward to it, he almost dreaded it. At the least, he felt indifferent. But that kiss… He couldn’t get it out of his mind. He wondered how batshit crazy he’d be right now if they’d really kissed.
He needed to get a handle on his emotions. Hopefully, there’d be a teammate or two in the bar. He could talk hockey and forget about his non-love life for a while.
The lights were low, and a few businessmen in suits sat in one corner. A couple spoke in low tones at the bar, their heads close together. The only other person in the room was Drew. He was in a dark back corner reading a book, of all things. Not playing video games or texting or even checking Facebook. Nope. He was reading a book, and not just any book, but as Jared walked closer, he could see the title of the book. A Tale of Two Cities.
“Hey,” Jared said, sliding into the seat opposite his teammate.
Drew didn’t look up or even acknowledge him. Jared waited patiently. Finally, Drew closed the book and laid it on the table. He met Jared’s gaze. His own was blankly stoic.
Jared could congratulate him on a good game, but that would be lying.
“Tough loss tonight.”
Drew shrugged.
“We’re still in the thick of things.”
Drew stared at the cover of his book and said absolutely nothing.
“The guys are worried about you.”
Drew’s head shot up, and he glared daggers at Jared. “Tell them to mind their own fucking business. I’m fine.”
“Okay. Sorry.” Jared held up his hands. At least he’d gotten a rise out of the guy.
Drew’s hard expression softened slightly. “Just got some shit I’m working through. That’s all.”
“I know that story.” Jared pointed at the book. “You enjoying that? I’m more of a biography or mystery reader myself. Not much for the classics.”
“I never used to be much of a reader. No time between hockey and parties.”
“And now?”
“I guess I’ve outgrown the parties.”
“And hockey? Have you outgrown that?” Jared couldn’t stop himself from asking.
Drew met his gaze. His eyes were dark and cold. His face was carved in stone. “Maybe. That’s some of the shit I’m working through.”
Jared blinked a few times and attempted to hide his surprise that Drew had been so bluntly honest. He decided not to push for more info. “Stuff changes. That’s the only constant.”
“Do you love it?”
“Hockey?” Jared asked, incredulous.
“Yeah, hockey.”
“I live and breathe it. I can’t imagine life after hockey. You?”
“I never questioned whether I should play or not. Dad insisted on nothing less. I don’t know if I ever loved it.” Drew sighed.
“You might want to figure it out.”
“Lots of people work in jobs they aren’t in love with and still perform at a high level.”
Jared didn’t agree with Drew’s logic. To compare pro hockey to an office job was plain ridiculous. Drew was crazy talented; he could get away with not having his heart in the game—for a while. They were about to embark on a Stanley Cup run, and every guy needed to give one hundred and ten percent. Drew was from hockey royalty. His father had played for fifteen years and was one of the top scorers of all time. Even non-hockey fans knew his name. Jared wondered what kind of pressure that put on his son. Jared’s dad had been a grinder, a guy who worked his ass off and never got much attention but was devoted to the game at the expense of all else, including his family. His dad hadn’t been around enough to put pressure on Jared. When he was home, it was all fun and games.
“Hey, I’m too sober to be so melancholy. Let’s talk about something else.” Drew raised a glass to his lips. “How’s your love life?”
“What the fuck is a love life?”
Drew actually chuckled. “That bad?”
“That bad, but there is this one girl.”
“Fuck, don’t you ever learn?” Drew raked his fingers through his hair and groaned.
“It’s been enough time
. I like being part of couple. I’m a one-woman guy.”
“Do I know her?”
“Nah.”
Drew rolled his eyes and let out an exasperated snort. “Next time you’re stupid enough to think you have to marry the girl you’re screwing, let me have her checked out. Save you some grief.”
“Checked out?” The abrupt change in subject caught Jared off guard. Drew probably regretted talking about himself, something he rarely did.
“Yeah, I take karate lessons from a guy, former Special Forces, who just opened a PI firm. He can find out shit for you. His brother is a whiz on a computer. If there’s dirt, he’ll dig it up.”
Talk about stuff dropping into his lap. He’d been thinking this very thing only a few days ago. “I might take you up on that.”
“Whatevs. You know where to find me.”
“And by the way, I’m not screwing her. We’re just friends.”
Drew shrugged, disbelief as plain as day on his face.
“So you take karate lessons?” Jared had never heard Drew mention martial arts, but then, Drew never mentioned much of anything.
“Yeah, I love it. And you can count on me to have your back.” Drew’s sullen expression transformed in the blink of an eye. His voice was animated rather than monotone. His eyes lit up in a way that they never did when talking hockey.
“Next barroom brawl I’m in, I’ll be sure to invite you.”
Drew almost smiled, not much, just an imperceptible tilt of one corner of his mouth. “Martial arts builds coordination and muscle control, not to mention strength.”
“Okaaay.” Working out and skating took most of Jared’s free time. He didn’t need to take on a hobby.
“Anyway, you want someone checked out, let me know. I’ll have you talk to Bronson.”
“Sounds good.”
He’d never been of a suspicious nature until Candy. In fact, he’d been naïvely trusting, which was how he’d gotten into that hot mess of marriage in the first place. All he’d wanted was a loving, forever marriage, and lately, the blank face of his wife in the family portraits he imagined wasn’t so blank anymore. That face had blonde hair and blue eyes and a sweet smile.
Was he crazy, or was there something there?
Maybe on both counts.
* * * *
After the flurry around the Thanksgiving holiday, Steph was anxious to get back into her daily routine. Though there were times she wondered what the heck that was. She’d spent another weekend bundled under the covers watching Hallmark movies and reading hockey romances. She was hiding from life, and she knew it, but no one could blame her. She needed more time to recover and heal, and she needed to stay away from Jared Roderick.
No good would come of a friendship with Jared, because she couldn’t trust herself around him. They’d proven that last week. And, of course, he was a guy. What guy wouldn’t take what was offered?
Steph wasn’t sure she could hold herself back from offering.
Monday night, things started up again. The kind of things that shifted her mind from Jared to survival. The phone calls with nobody saying anything on the other end of the line. The heavy breathing. The fear of being stalked.
Be careful what you wish for…
Steph hated being afraid. Hated it. Hated the fear that racked her body and made her sick to her stomach and made her hands shake. She hated being unable to eat for fear she couldn’t keep her food down. She hated being a coward and a prisoner in her own home. She hadn’t told anyone about the stalker, but the way Izzy and Bella shot her sideways glances during the party they were crashing on Friday night indicated she wasn’t very good at covering up her anxiety.
Steph wanted to go home and lock herself in her cozy little apartment and forget about everything. She’d drown herself in a good book with a happy ending. She could do none of those until the party ended an agonizing two hours later.
She sighed and waited near the banquet room door for a ride home with Izzy. The crowd had been a tough one, made up of older men and women who were celebrating the release of what Steph considered a very dull literary novel. Loosening up this strait-laced group was like trying to get a laugh out of the Buckingham Palace guards. Not that she’d ever been to London—or anywhere, really—but she did read a lot.
She looked up and down the street, fearing Gino might be out there somewhere, watching her. All week she’d felt someone was watching her. The hair would rise on the back of her neck and a chill would rush through her. She’d thought Izzy had been right behind when she’d walked out of the banquet hall. She tried the doorknob, and it didn’t turn—locked from the inside.
Vi mentioned she’d found out through a mutual friend where they’d once worked that Gino was in jail on a minor assault charge. Typically Gino would get someone else to do his dirty work, but Steph knew him well enough to expect him to resurface at some point.
The door opened, and Bella walked out. Her eyes narrowed with determination, and Steph swallowed. Bella wrapped her fingers around Steph’s arm. “We’re going to a have a drink. Izzy’s heading home. I’ll give you a ride after we’re done.”
“I don’t really drink much. I’m tired, and I’d rather go straight home, but thank you for the offer.”
Bella glared at her. “I didn’t ask you if you wanted to or not.”
“Oh.”
“You and I are going to have a chat.” Bella strode down the sidewalk and Steph followed, not knowing what else to do. Bella was formidable on the best of days and scary as hell on the worst. Steph dragged her feet, but Bella shot her a withering look that had Steph wanting to melt into the floor and disappear.
Reluctantly, she joined Bella in a dimly lit hotel bar a few doors down from the party venue. Bella ordered a whiskey and water while Steph ordered a Coke.
She opened her mouth to offer one more protest, but the intensity of Bella’s expression caused her to shut it before saying a word. She stirred the ice cubes in her Coke and waited. Steph wasn’t going to be set free until Bella said whatever she felt compelled to say.
“I know that haunted look,” Bella said, getting right to the point. The harshness in her voice faded, leaving unusual softness.
“What haunted look?” Steph wrung her hands and avoided Bella’s gaze.
“The look of someone who’s been traumatized. I’ve been there.”
Steph lifted her head. Bella had her attention now. “How so?”
“I was beaten and almost raped by a stranger.”
Steph met Bella’s gaze and absorbed this bit of information. “I’m sorry.” She’d known something had happened to Bella but hadn’t asked anyone for details. She had to admire Bella’s courage. She didn’t seem to let anyone or anything intimidate her.
“And you? Who put that haunted look on your face?” Bella’s gaze searched hers, and she waited patiently for the answer.
“I wasn’t raped, if that’s what you’re thinking. Not exactly.” Steph spoke so quietly that Bella had to lean forward to hear her.
“What does not exactly mean?”
“My old boyfriend could be rough.”
“How long were you with him?”
“Since I was eighteen.”
“Did he beat you?”
Steph’s eyes were hot with unshed tears. She couldn’t speak without making a fool of herself. “Yes. Among other things.”
“What other things?”
“Izzy didn’t tell you?”
“Izzy said to ask you.”
“He abused me and made me do things I didn’t want to do. He cut me off from my friends and family, and he—” The tears started to flow freely.
Bella rose from the other side of the table to sit next to her and put her arm around Steph. “It’s okay. I want to help. Talking will make you feel better. What other things did he make you do?”
“He forced me to strip for money because he couldn’t hold down a job. I hated it. All those men leering at me, making lewd gestures and rude r
emarks. I hated every minute of it. And I suck at dancing. Not that any of the men cared. They were looking at my tits and my body, not my dancing.”
Bella squeezed her shoulder but said nothing. She waited.
“He beat me if I didn’t make enough in tips, or he’d find other ways to torture me. He was careful not to leave marks, because that would’ve cut down on the tips. I danced at the same place Vi did—Dancing Girls, Inc. I wasn’t in the Women of Ink show, but on before them. It was a nice club. No touching. No lap dancing. I wasn’t making enough money for him, so on my off nights, he forced me to strip in a sleazy club where there was lap dancing. He got a job in security. Said he’d protect me. He didn’t. He let them touch me when I was doing my lap dance.” She shuddered and grabbed a napkin, holding it over her mouth, retching.
“I’m sorry, Steph.” Bella rubbed her shoulders.
“I ran away when he told me he’d arranged for me to strip at a private bachelor party and I’d better be willing to do whatever the guys asked of me. I knew what he meant, and I couldn’t do that. I called Vi, and she rescued me, along with Matt.”
“Oh, honey, that’s brutal. But you took the hardest step. You got away from him. You’re healing. You’re living the life you should’ve lived.”
Steph shrugged and wiped her face with a bar napkin.
“Are you getting counseling?”
“I’ve had some,” she lied.
“Good. Does he still come around and bother you?”
“He’s in jail right now so he can’t.”
“You have the haunted eyes of someone who’s being hunted. You’re always looking over your shoulder, and lately you’ve gotten jumpier. Did something happen?”
Steph spilled it, unable to keep the incident inside anymore. She had plenty of other secrets to hold on to; this one needed to be let out of its cage.
“Does Izzy know this?”
Steph shook her head.
“Tell her. Coop can install an alarm system. We can make sure you have transportation. You shouldn’t be walking back and forth to the sisters’ house even during daylight hours.”
“I have Otto.”
“Otto? He’s harmless.”
“I know,” Steph admitted. “But there is an alarm system. Coop had it installed a month or so ago.”