After The Fire (One Pass Away Book 3)

by Mary J. Williams

  “Exactly. Better you than me.” Not bothering to hold onto the sheet, Violet gave him a hug. “Go and let the Kiwanis Club fawn over their Man of the Year. I’ll be here when you get back.”

  “Naked?”

  There was so much hope in his voice; Violet was almost tempted to say yes. But she wasn’t spending her morning laid out like a sexual plaything. Nor was she going to drop her clothing the second she heard his car in the driveway.

  “Sorry. But if you want to help me get that way after lunch, I won’t object.” She gave him one more kiss, then pushed him away.

  “Lunch in bed?”

  Violet chuckled as she watched him grab his wallet and rush out the door. Ten minutes later, her mood hadn’t dimmed. She had taken a quick shower, leaving her hair to dry naturally, she moisturized her face and body, before taking a pair of jeans from the closet.

  Gaige had insisted on giving her a space of her own. It took some rearranging. His wardrobe was large and varied. But she didn’t argue when he led her to padded hangers. There was more than enough room for her things. She only packed for a few days.

  Violet’s schedule allowed her to fly in for the game, but she had to be back in New York on Wednesday. Her plans were to follow that pattern through the playoffs. When the Knights played in the Super Bowl—in her mind it was a foregone conclusion—she would figure the best course of action. One thing was for certain. Nothing would keep her from seeing every single down.

  Casual clothing was a nice change of pace from her usual weekday wardrobe. At her office or at one of the hospitals, Violet went for a classic look. Tailored slacks, silk blouses, a dress that was appropriate for meeting patients and making her rounds.

  It was different with Gaige. Her time was her own. She could wear jeans when they went to lunch, or something more upscale if they felt like dinner out. There were no rules. When was the last time she could say that about her life? Professionally or personally.

  Gaige was good for her. He brought a fascinating combination of peace, mixed with excitement and laughter—always laughter.

  Violet skipped down the stairs. Her face was free of makeup, and her feet were bare. Another kind of freedom. She veered toward the kitchen, her stomach telling her that she had been up long enough that food sounded good.

  It was a mystery to Violet how people were able to eat first thing in the morning. When she watched a movie where the heroine was served breakfast in bed, it made her shudder. Food did not pass her lips until she had been up at least an hour. Preferably more.

  Due to the calories she had expended, with Gaige’s help, Violet was ahead of her usual timetable. She had been up only thirty minutes, but food was a definite must.

  Violet had an apple in one hand and some bread in the other when the doorbell rang. She kept the apple, taking a bite, and headed to see who it was. Probably a delivery. Gaige was always getting something. Her favorite was the swag sent by the companies he endorsed. T-shirts. Running shoes. Shaving cream. One box had contained fifty cashmere sweaters. Fifty. They were the highest quality in a rainbow of colors. Gaige didn’t find it the least bit odd.

  With her father in mind, he told her to pick out as many as she wanted. Violet took three. It was the perfect opening. Her father phoned Gaige to thank him, and to her delight, they talked for an hour.

  Feeling like a kid anticipating a treat, Violet padded to the door. Checking the security feed, she saw a man in a suit instead of the expected delivery man.

  “Yes?” she asked via the intercom. “May I help you?”

  “Dr. Reed? This is Walter Crenshaw. I’m Gaige’s agent.”

  Violet paused, then unlatched the lock and opened the door.

  “I know who you are.”

  “You do?” He tried to look surprised, but Walter Crenshaw wasn’t as good of an actor as he seemed to think. Violet saw right through him.

  “Yes.” She stepped to the side. “You’d better come in.”

  “Thank you.”

  He gave her a smile that didn’t quite reach his dark eyes. Harry Crenshaw was an attractive man. Average height, he had a trim body, and a full head of brown hair liberally peppered with gray. His teeth were white. Too white. They were that shade that went just beyond natural and said he spent too much time getting them treated.

  Harry looked calm, but Violet could tell he was wary of her. With good reason. She had information that she hadn’t shared with Gaige, and it concerned Harry.

  “Gaige isn’t here.” But she was certain he already knew that.

  “Actually, I came to see you.”

  No shit, Sherlock. Violet didn’t speak. She waited patiently for Harry to play his hand.

  “Are you enjoying Seattle?”

  “Yes.”

  “It isn’t the best time of year. To see the city at its best, you need to be here in late spring.”

  As she listened to Harry’s inane chatter, Violet realized she had a choice. She could wait him out, hoping he would get to the point before Gaige returned, or she could do herself a favor and get rid of him as soon as possible. Put like that, there was no choice.

  “I would ask you to sit, but I’m not feeling particularly social.”

  “Do you think I need your permission? I’ve been to this house dozens of times. I’ll be here when you’re long gone.”

  “There you go,” Violet nodded. “Doesn’t it feel better to drop the fake charm and be yourself?”

  “Dr. Reed.” Walter tried to reverse the damage, but he was wasting his time. Violet’s opinion of him had formed months ago. It wasn’t likely to change. “Why don’t we sit?” he motioned toward the sofa. “There’s no need for animosity.”

  Violet ignored him. “By now you know that my mother passed away.”

  “Yes, I was sorry to hear about your loss.”

  “Really? Weren’t you relieved? She was the only person who knew what you had done. Unfortunately for you, she didn’t take your secret with her.”

  Harry swallowed. Violet could see a fine film of sweat on his brow. He obviously had formed a plan of attack, but Violet wasn’t playing along. Before he could regroup, she forged ahead.

  “I knew I wouldn’t like you. But I know that Gaige trusts you. He’s a smart man, so I have to assume you do a good job.”

  “I do. I’ve made Gaige a wealthy man.”

  “I would say that Gaige had more to do with that than you did. He made you rich, not the other way around.”

  “I pulled my share of the load.”

  Violet felt strangely calm. She hadn’t given Walter Crenshaw a lot of thought. Her anger and grief had been directed at her mother. But now that he was here—in front of her—it gave her the chance to do something she hadn’t been allowed to do. Vent.

  “I don’t care. That’s between you and Gaige. My part in this sick farce is another matter.” She looked him straight in the eyes. “Sixteen years ago you took advantage of my mother. She was worried sick about me. Seeing a weakness, you played on it. You told her about Gaige’s father. Pushed all the right buttons. It was your idea to take the letter. Mom wouldn’t have thought of that by herself. And why? To feed your greed.”

  “It wasn’t greed.” Walter saw that Violet wasn’t buying that line, so he pushed harder. “I was the only one looking out for Gaige. Yes, he’s my client, but he’s also my friend.”

  “Lucky him.” The sarcasm dripped off every word.

  “He was lucky,” Walter insisted. “Do you know how vulnerable a twenty-two-year-old athlete is? One with Gaige’s potential is especially at risk. Leeches come out of the woodwork. If it weren’t for me, they would have sucked him dry.”

  “Fine.” Violet threw her hands up in the air. “You were his savior. Again, I don’t care. I didn’t want Gaige’s money.”

  “But you got plenty of it.”

  Walter looked so smug, so superior. Violet felt like this was a trap, but she couldn’t stop herself from walking toward it. “What are you talking about?�
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  “You think you’re smart. Dr. Reed,” Walter sneered. “Who do you think paid for that fancy education? Not to mention your medical bills. Sorry to break this to you. There was no government fund or magical scholarship. It was all Gaige.”

  “That’s not true. The hospital told my mother that—”

  “The truth dawns. Your mother. She knew everything.”

  Violet’s head was swimming. One more lie. One more secret. Her mother had been so convincing when she told her about the scholarship. The one she couldn’t remember applying for. But there had been so many, it was an easy lie to sell. Violet hadn’t given it a second thought. Because she wanted it so much—and because the lie came from someone she trusted implicitly.

  “Why would she take money from someone she hated?”

  “She felt his family owed you. Why shouldn’t you benefit from Gaige’s success? Gaige wanted to pay for everything. Your mother didn’t hesitate. In fact, she jumped at the offer.”

  “She took the money for me.” Violet had to keep telling herself that.

  “And for herself. Poof,” Walter snapped his fingers. “Your family was out of debt. No worries—thanks to Gaige.”

  “That was your justification? The money? I didn’t know.”

  “Gaige was better off single.”

  Violet blinked. Walter’s statement was so out of the blue, she wasn’t certain how to respond.

  “I didn’t want to marry him.”

  “Please,” Walter scoffed. “Where do you think it was headed? Gaige couldn’t think of anything else. His focus should have been on football—not you. He was about to start his first professional training camp. Everything was in front of him. He couldn’t afford any distractions. You were already hurting him. I did him a favor.”

  “A favor? By making him think I dumped him? God, that is the height of arrogance.”

  “Be honest. Do you think it would have lasted? A year, maybe two. Instead of a slightly broken heart, I saved him from a messy divorce and years of alimony.”

  Violet was flabbergasted. Walter truly believed what he was saying. He knew better. He saved Gaige. At some twisted point, she and Gaige were no longer the lead characters. It was all about Walter.

  “You weren’t arrogant. You were playing God. You and my mother. Moving us around like pieces in your own personal chess game. Why let us make our own decisions when you knew better? Well, fuck that. And fuck you too.”

  “You’re saying I’m wrong?”

  “I’m saying it should have been up to us. We deserved the chance to decide. I don’t know if we would still be together. Maybe. Maybe not. We’ll never know.”

  “Please.” Walter wasn’t bending. “You were a kid. Gaige wasn’t much older. The temptations he deals with on a daily basis are beyond your comprehension. At twenty-two? He found naked women in his bed. They would sneak into his room and be there when he returned. Without you in his life, he didn’t have to worry about remaining faithful. He did what came naturally.”

  “Enough!” Violet couldn’t take another second of his convoluted logic. “It doesn’t matter anymore. Whatever your reasons, it’s in the past. There is no going back.”

  “Exactly.” Walter seemed relieved. “You’re a successful doctor. Gaige is one of the greatest to ever play the game. You’ve lived fulfilling lives. Forget about the past. Now is your time.”

  “I’m going to tell him, Walter.”

  “What?”

  Walter took a step toward her, the anger on his face clear for her to see. For the first time, Violet realized how vulnerable she was. She was alone with a man she didn’t know. A man who saw her as the enemy. Violet eased behind the sofa. It wasn’t much of a buffer, but it was something.

  Her phone was on the table behind Walter. Even if she could get to it, she didn’t know if she would have time to use it. Her best bet was the French doors leading to the deck. If she could get outside, her chances were better. She was fast. Hopefully, faster than Walter.

  “I’m not going to hurt you.”

  “Okay.”

  Walter stepped back—five paces instead of one. It was better, but Violet wasn’t going to let down her guard.

  “You haven’t told him. Why now? What purpose would it serve?”

  “It’s one more lie I don’t want between us.” Violet didn’t expect Walter to understand. “I didn’t tell him yet because I don’t want him distracted. Winning the Super Bowl means everything to Gaige. He deserves to go into the playoffs without your betrayal on his mind.”

  “Betrayal.” Walter shook his head. “You sanctimonious bitch. What if Gaige sees it my way?”

  She was right, Walter didn’t understand anything.

  “That will be up to him. Eventually, I will find a way to forgive my mother. Gaige may come to terms with what you did. I won’t try to influence him one way or the other.”

  Walter gave her a short nod then turned to leave. Not willing to trust that his mood wouldn’t change, Violet stayed where she was. He was halfway out the door when he paused, looking back.

  “Would it help if I said I was sorry?”

  Violet shook her head. “No. Because you’re only sorry that you got caught.”

  Walter shrugged, his eyes meeting hers. His gaze was enigmatic. Violet watched as the door shut behind him and wondered if he finally grasped what she had told him? She wasn’t his enemy. Nor did she want him to pay for his sins. What she wanted was Gaige. She couldn’t have him if the past hung over their heads.

  One last secret. It might anger Gaige when he found out she hadn’t told him everything. But Violet was confident he would forgive her when he found out the reason. Nothing would get in the way of his dream. Super Bowl champion. And then? Violet smiled. She didn’t care. He could do whatever his heart desired. She planned on being by his side. All the way.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  “THERE IS ICE water in your veins.”

  Gaige opened one eye, looked Logan up and down, then closed it.

  “I’m nervous. I simply don’t choose to expend unnecessary energy. It’s halftime, kid. Take a few minutes to gather your thoughts.”

  “I admire the sentiment.” Logan resumed his pacing. “But this isn’t a random Sunday in October. This one is for the conference championship. And then—” Logan swallowed. “Shit. I can’t say it. It’s too big.”

  The tension seeped from Gaige’s body. It had always been this way. The more others panicked, the calmer he became. High school. College. The NFL. It was a gift he didn’t take lightly. He was expected to settle his teammates. It was his job to focus their nervous energy onto the game.

  Gaige let Logan blow off steam for a few more minutes. When he felt it was the right moment, he jumped to his feet.

  “Super Bowl.”

  “What?” Logan froze in his footsteps, certain he misheard.

  Gaige knew exactly what he was doing. After weeks—months—of jumping all over anyone who looked beyond the game at hand, he spoke the words. Super Bowl. Partly for the shock value. It got Logan’s attention. Hell, he had the attention of every player in the locker room.

  It was more than that. It was time.

  They were locked in a close game with a team that wasn’t going to roll over in the second half, handing them a ticket to the big game. The opposition wanted to win. It was up to the Knights to prove that they wanted it more.

  “I can taste it.” Gaige raised his voice until there was no chance for anyone to miss what he had to say. “Are we going to let another team come to this stadium—our home—and take what we want?”

  “Hell, no!” Logan yelled. Sean, Sol, and the rest of the team pounded on the lockers.

  Gaige hopped onto the wooden bench.

  “This is our game,” he told them, his voice reverberating through the room. Every eye was on him. Their quarterback. Their leader. “Our time. Ours. Not some other wannabe champion. Us. The Seattle fucking Knights. Get your asses out there and prove it to me,
the fans, and the goddamned world. We are the badasses. We are going to the mother fucking Super Bowl.”

  Gaige pushed his way to the exit, busting through the door, his teammates on his heels. His blood pumped. His words weren’t rhetoric from a million other games—recycled for this moment. The speech came from inside of him. It wasn’t planned. You couldn’t rehearse for something that meant so much. His team responded because they trusted him to lead them to victory.

  Running onto the field, Gaige knew without a doubt that was exactly what he would do.

  “IT WAS LIKE something from fucking Braveheart.” A bottle of beer in his hand, Logan twirled Claire around in a circle.

  “Without the Scottish accent. Or the kilts—thank God.” Sean grinned at Riley when she joined him on the sofa.

  “We are going to the Super Bowl.”

  The whoops were a bit subdued compared to the locker room—but not much.

  It seemed natural for the party to end up at Gaige’s house. After hours of post-game interviews, endless press conferences, and too many pictures with jubilant fans to count, the Knights needed to unwind—as a team.

  “Are you coming off your adrenaline high?” Violet asked Gaige.

  “I can feel it winding down.” They sat on the sofa, his arm around her shoulders. “In a couple of hours, I’ll be ready to crash.” He whispered, for her ears only, “After you help me top off the evening.”

  Violet laughed. “Where do you find the energy?”

  “What energy? I’m counting on you to do all the work.”

  “After the thrills and chills you gave me tonight? I’d say it’s the least I can do.”

  Gaige rubbed his cheek against her soft, fragrant hair. He hadn’t exaggerated. He was still riding the high of that second half. The game had played out in slow motion. In a good way. Behind the line of scrimmage, he saw every defender. He anticipated their moves. Fading back, he and his receivers communicated without words. If they zigged to the left, he knew exactly when and where the zag to the right would be.

  It was magic. One of those rare sports moments that came out of nowhere. By the middle of the fourth quarter, the outcome of the game was no longer in question. They and their fans were able to savor the moment.