The sound of a slap reverberated through the room.
“What the hell?” Jock Fielder yelled.
“Was that you, Gibbons?” Gaige knew who occupied the locker next to Fielder’s.
“I took care of it,” his longtime teammate called out. He and Phil Gibbons came into the league in the same draft class. Rivals in college, they had been solid friends since signing with the Knights.
“Remind me. I owe you a beer.”
“Make it two, and I’ll hit him again.”
That made everyone laugh, including Jock Fielder.
“We’re a loose bunch.” Sean sat next to Gaige, his arms resting on his bent knees. “It feels good.”
“It does.” Gaige checked his image. Satisfied that everything was neat and presentable, he clapped Sean on the back. “We’ve lived through some lean years with this team.”
“From the mediocre to the underwhelming.”
Sean had a way with words. Amusing and accurate.
“Don’t look so serious, old man. We deserve to bask a little.”
“As long as we don’t get ahead of ourselves,” Gaige said. “Next week’s game is the only thing that counts.”
“Of course.” Sean kept a straight face—barely. “One game at a time.”
Gaige raised an eyebrow. “Stop me if you’ve heard this before, asshole.”
“Only a hundred times or so. But it never gets old, Uncle Gaige.”
“Remind me why I put up with you?”
“My sure hands and my pretty face. You aren’t the first to find the combination irresistible.”
Gaige rolled his eyes then burst out laughing. He loved Sean like a brother. He had watched him grow up from an anything goes wild child to the man he was today. Mature but never losing that twinkle in his eyes.
“Riley is a saint to take you on.”
“The woman has good taste.”
“The woman has been head over heels in love with you since she was seventeen years old.” As they headed out of the locker room, Gaige draped an arm over Sean’s shoulders. “It’s a good thing you finally grew up and saw the light. Letting her slip away would have been the biggest mistake of your life.”
“Don’t I know it.” Sean’s grin widened when his saw his fiancée waiting for him. “She didn’t give up on me. That makes me the luckiest son of a bitch in the world.”
“Make that the second luckiest.” Logan Price joined them, his gaze on Claire. “You did good, Gaige. Without you, Sean and I would have probably spent our lives alone. Me a bitter old man, and Sean fucking everything in sight until his dick, or his heart gave out.”
“That’s a lovely thought,” Sean grumbled. But he didn’t argue the point.
“All I did was push you in the right direction.” Gaige hadn’t set out to be a matchmaker. He tried to be a good friend. The rest had fallen nicely into place without any extra help from him. “You saw what you wanted and didn’t fuck it up.”
“A little advice? I’ve never seen you as happy as you have been these past few days.” Sean gave him a push—toward Violet. “Don’t fuck it up.”
Gaige didn’t need Sean to tell him. Violet had always held a place in his heart. Bigger than he had wanted to admit. Love—if he had the courage to call it that—didn’t come along every day. He knew that better than most. Affection was easy. There were no risks involved when his emotions were safely locked behind a thick, impenetrable wall.
Violet was the only woman he had met who made him want to take a chance. She made him feel that way when he was twenty-two, and nothing had changed.
Gaige stopped in front of Violet. Like her name, she was a breath of spring. No, the last thing he wanted to do was fuck it up.
“Did you enjoy the game?”
“It was… is sublime too strong a word?” Violet laughed. “I sound like a gushy teenager.”
“Gushy is good.” At the moment, Gaige was crazy about gushy. “Why don’t we go to my place? We can order a pizza, and you can tell me all about it.”
“I can’t.”
“Sure you can.” Gaige didn’t like the sadness in Violet’s eyes. It made him nervous. “Put one foot in front of the other. Easy as pie.”
“Gaige—”
“Are you saying goodbye?”
“No!” Violet reached out for his hand. He gave it to her without hesitation. “It’s time to clear the air, Gaige.”
“I know, but it makes me nervous. Twitchy.”
“Me too.” Violet reached into her purse and pulled out an envelope.
“Sixteen years ago, you wrote me a letter.”
Eyes glued to hers, Gaige swallowed hard. “I remember.”
“My response is long past due.” She placed the envelope in his hand.
“Violet—”
“Don’t say anything. Read this. Think hard about everything in there. Some of it is ugly, Gaige. Some of it is…” She shrugged. “It’s for you to decide. Your decision.”
“Is it that bad?” The letter, so light when she placed it in his hand, grew heavier by the second.
“Riley is going to give me a ride to my hotel.”
“I can do that.”
“Please?” Violet put her arms around his waist, resting her head on his chest. She wasn’t wearing heels so he had to bend, just a bit, to breathe in the scent of her hair.
“It won’t matter, Violet. Whatever is in the letter? It won’t matter.”
He had spoken those exact words to her words all those years ago. The poignancy of that realization pierced his heart. The tears in Violet’s eyes told him that she was reliving the same memory.
CHAPTER NINE
IT WAS ONLY a piece of paper.
Gaige stared at the unopened envelope. The second he walked in his front door, he set it on the living room table. He took a beer from the refrigerator, sat on the sofa. And spent the next twenty minutes staring at something that could determine how he spent the rest of his life. Loving Violet. Or bitter and alone.
His thoughts were a touch dramatic—but what was the saying? Words are more powerful than weapons. Or something like that. At the moment, Gaige believed it.
Shit. Stop acting like a pussy. Gaige tilted the bottle of beer, draining the last drop. He set the empty on the table. Picking up the envelope, he took a deep breath and ripped it open.
My Darling Gaige,
Gaige closed his eyes, relaxing just a bit. Nothing that started out like that could be all bad. He read it again.
My Darling Gaige,
Is that odd? My calling you darling? I haven’t said it to your face, and I doubt that I ever would. It’s a little old-fashioned—awkward—in this day and age. But I’ve thought of you that way for so long—even when I tried to convince myself that I hated you. So bear with me.
Gaige lowered the letter. Hated him? What the hell? He rolled his neck, trying to dispel some of the tension. Taking a deep breath, he resumed reading.
Where to start? The day of my surgery is a good place. I should have been scared. I was nervous. A little anxious. But I wasn’t afraid. I had you with me. If the hospital staff had let me, I would have kept your letter with me during the operation. Apparently, silly sentimentality has no place during surgery—or so my mother informed me. She would keep my precious letter safe.
You already know that the operation was a complete success. Perfect twenty-twenty vision. Modern medicine. I had to wait a few days to find out. But I knew I would see. I clutched your letter—determined that I would be the one to read it.
The day the bandages came off, and my doctor gave me the thumb’s up, the first thing I looked for was your letter. My heart broke when I discovered it wasn’t there. The envelope was empty.
Gaige frowned at Violet’s letter. What the fuck?
It wasn’t the envelope you had given me. My mother—with tears in her eyes—informed me that you had come back while I was in surgery. You had second thoughts. Then third and fourth thoughts. Mom told me that y
ou couldn’t face the idea of being with a blind person—which meant your feelings weren’t as strong as you thought. It was as simple as that. You wished me well. You wanted your letter back, and she gave it to you. Rather than tell me when I had just gotten out of surgery, she gave me an empty envelope.
I had no reason not to believe her. She was my mother. She loved me. Why would she lie?
God, I hated you. There were so many reasons. I hated you for making me love you. For saying so many beautiful things, then ending it in such an ugly way. I hated that, like a fool, I held that empty envelope like some kind of magic talisman. I became philosophical, deciding the envelope represented your soul—devoid of substance or compassion. I know—it was a bit much. But I was hurt—and nineteen. Teenage angst can be pretty intense.
You’ll be glad to know that my tears dried. My hate for you was replaced by sadness. My memories of you were tainted. I wanted to remember those days we spent together fondly. But that was impossible. Instead, I forced myself to stop thinking about it all together. It wasn’t easy. I threw myself into becoming a doctor and in time, I truly believed I was over you.
I won’t bore you with the next sixteen years. You know I married. He wasn’t a bad man. On paper, we were the perfect match. In reality, not so much. The divorce was exactly like our marriage. Brief and passionless.
A little over a year ago, my mother was diagnosed with an aggressive form of pancreatic cancer. She was given less than six months to live. I wish I could say that in the face of her own mortality, she confessed to me what she had done. But this is real life, not a weepy Hollywood movie. She would have taken her secrets with her if it weren’t for the way she reacted to her pain medication. Toward the end, her doctors upped the dosage. One night, she became agitated—weepy. My father couldn’t calm her and was about to call for help when everything spilled out.
She hadn’t trusted you. Not from the beginning. She thought I had become too attached too quickly. When my father told her who you were—who your father was—she wasn’t as understanding as he was. She couldn’t look at you without seeing the man who almost killed her baby—her words, not mine.
She saw the letter as her chance to get rid of you. Purge you from my life—again, her words. Even on her death bed, she had no regrets. She was certain you would have broken my heart. Or worse. She was convinced that she had saved me.
Mom died a few days later. A few days after her funeral, my father told me everything. He was devastated. We both were. Such a big, ugly lie. It was difficult to reconcile the woman we loved with someone who was capable of such a deceitful and cruel act. We’re still dealing with the aftershocks.
I have no idea why she kept your letter. I found it while putting her things in order. It was in an old purse, shoved into the back of her closet. Was it possible she simply forgot it was there? I’ll never know.
Reading your letter broke my heart all over again. I wept for us, Gaige. My mother was convinced that we wouldn’t have lasted. It was a selfish and arrogant assumption. Would we still be together? I can’t say. But we deserved the chance to find out. She took that from us, and I don’t think I will ever be able to forgive her.
In the letter, you wondered if your father was too big a stumbling block for us? Could I forget? Would I look at you and see him? I know what I would have said then, and my answer hasn’t changed. I see you, Gaige. The man you are has nothing to do with him. If anything, I admire you more because of where you’ve come from.
Has all of this sunk in? I know it’s a lot to process, and I want to give you all the time you need. If it helps, I’ve known for several months, and I’m still reeling.
I don’t want there to be any question in your mind about me. I planned on contacting you after the season ended. Terrance simply speeded things along a little. (I need to give him a big thank you kiss). I know what I want, Gaige. I want a chance to find out who we are. The what ifs no longer matter. Today? Tomorrow? That’s what counts.
I’m all in, Gaige. Whatever it takes.
However, if you don’t feel the same, I promise, there will be no recriminations or hard feelings. The past few days have been wonderful. If they are all we have, it will be the perfect bookend to our story.
And know this. I will always be your friend.
Violet
Stunned. There was no other way to describe his feelings. Anger simmered under the surface, but he tamped it down. He knew what he had to do, and the last thing he wanted was for something ugly or resentful to get in the way.
Gaige carefully folded the letter, returned it to the envelope. He went to his office and punched in the wall safe code. It was the one place in his house that he knew would survive anything from burglary to fire. His passport. A copy of his birth certificate. Some legal papers and a stash of emergency cash. Nothing precious—until now.
FOR THE THIRD time, Violet read the same page in the medical journal. It was written by a respected colleague and friend. Something about a new way to treat post-op infections. It was the kind of thing she usually found interesting and informative. Not tonight. Giving up, she tossed the magazine onto the table.
The television remote wasn’t calling her name. Mindless chatter wouldn’t help settle her thoughts.
Violet was in her solitary hotel room by choice. She could have accepted Riley’s invitation to dinner. But she declined. As much as she liked Sean and Riley, she wasn’t in the mood to spend the evening with two people so blatantly in love.
She looked at her phone, willing it to ring. Two hours had passed since she gave Gaige the letter. It was true that she told him to take his time and think things through. But how long should it take? Was he going to sleep on it and make her wait until tomorrow?
Violet groaned. If she didn’t hear from him, sleep would not be on her agenda. She was considering finding an all-night movie theater when her phone rang. Violet jumped a foot. Good Lord. Calm down. The ringtone told her it wasn’t Gaige.
“Hi, Dad.” If it had been anyone else, Violet would have let the call go to voicemail.
“Hi, honey. Are you enjoying Seattle?”
Violet smiled. She loved her father. Because he knew everything, she had talked to him before she decided to make the trip. He encouraged her to come. It was time to lay the past to rest.
It was hardly a coincidence that Alden Reed started following the Knights sixteen years ago. One didn’t suddenly become an avid fan of a team located across the country unless one had a personal reason. That reason was Gaige.
“He’s a good man,” Alden had explained. “And though I didn’t like the way I thought he had treated you, I admire him. As an athlete and a philanthropist. I hate what your mother did, Violet. But now it makes more sense. Gaige didn’t abandon you. He deserves to know that you didn’t abandon him.”
Violet hadn’t needed convincing. She was due for a vacation. With no surgeries scheduled until after the New Year, it was easy to take a week—two if necessary. She wouldn’t know how much longer she would be staying in Seattle until she heard from Gaige.
“I wrote Gaige a letter.” There was a long pause. “Dad?”
“Do you think that was a good idea? The two of you haven’t had the best of luck with handwritten correspondence.”
“Funny man.” Violet had to smile. “This was different. Gaige can see. I personally put the letter in his hands. There is no chance that a third party will interfere.”
“Good,” Alden said. “Did you see the game?”
“In person.”
“What did you think?”
Her father had seen Gaige play. He purchased tickets every time the Knights played on the East Coast. Considering all the revelations she had to deal with recently, that one hadn’t measured very high. It was surprising but not shocking. At this point, it would take something big to rock her world again.
“It’s a different game when you see it in person, isn’t it? Faster. More intense.”
“And Gaige?”
/>
“He’s…” Violet didn’t know why, but she felt like crying. “I feel cheated, Dad.”
“Oh, Violet.”
She could hear the sadness in her father’s voice. “I’m sorry. It hurt you, too. But every time I think I’m getting over it, something happens to open the wound.”
“You need to find a way to forgive her.”
“Have you?”
“I think so.” Alden sighed. “Sophia was the love of my life. It isn’t easy to throw away thirty-seven years, Violet. She forgave me more than once.”
“What did you do?”
“It doesn’t matter. The point is we made a good life together. Raised a wonderful daughter. I will always hate what she did, but I can’t stay angry. It hurts too much.”
“I’ll forgive her, Dad.”
As soon as Violet said the words she knew it was true. She wasn’t trying to placate her father. No matter what, she loved her mother. Forgiveness would come. But she wasn’t there yet.
“I’ll let you go.”
“I love you.”
“I love you, too.”
Suddenly tired, Violet decided to get ready for bed. A hot shower and an early night sounded good. If she couldn’t sleep, she would turn on the television and let I Love Lucy keep her company.
The shower was a quick one. Violet executed her usual nightly routine—she had done it so many times she didn’t have to think about it. Teeth brushed, she added plenty of moisturizer to her freshly washed face, gave her lips a coating of raspberry-flavored gloss. Her hair, thick and glossy, was still damp, but she would take care of it in the morning.
Violet gave herself one last look in the bathroom mirror before turning out the light. She walked to the dresser and opened the middle drawer. If she stayed in a city more than a day, she liked to unpack. It was nicer than rummaging through her suitcase. She was reaching for her favorite nightshirt when there was a knock on the door.
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