by J. H. Croix
“Well, if the way he looked at you last night is any indication, the man is seriously into you. Just sayin.’ If he was my cup of tea, I’d have melted on sight,” Daisy said with a sigh.
I couldn’t help but laugh. I hadn’t straightened out much of anything in my own head, but somehow Daisy’s comment cast just enough sun inside I managed to find a brief respite from my worries.
Chapter Eleven
Alex
I strolled down the hallway at the stadium, idly tossing a soccer ball on my way to the locker room. We were done with practice for the day and I was the good kind of tired, physically worn, but floating on the rush of adrenaline from a few hours of play. I rounded the corner in the hall to find Liam leaning against the wall. The moment he saw me, he ended whatever phone call he’d been having. The little snippet of “Bye luv” I heard told me it was Olivia. He flashed a grin. “Good play, mate. Say, are we ready for the game against LA?” he asked as he rested a foot against the wall, clearly expecting me to stop and chat.
“Aye. Think so. You?” I returned as I leaned against the wall beside him, rolling the ball between my hands.
“Always.” He was quiet for a beat before I felt him look my way. “So? Harper,” was all he said.
I inwardly groaned. Liam was my best mate and had been for pretty much forever. Yet, he’d always tended toward being more open about his personal life than I was. I didn’t mind it so much, but at times like this, it was annoying. I hadn’t sorted my own feelings about Harper and here he was asking questions.
I rolled my head to the side on the wall. “What about Harper?”
He rolled his eyes, cracking another sly grin. “Mate, can’t believe I’m saying this, but Olivia bossed me into talking to you. I told her you like to keep your private life private, but she’s all in a tizzy about whatever the hell is going on with you and Harper. I already swore up and down, left and right that you’d never hurt a woman, but she says I have to talk to you.”
My heart gave a hard thump, and I swallowed against the emotion knotting my chest. I rolled my head away from Liam and stared at the wall across from us, my eyes idly following the pattern of tiles on the wall. Harper. It had been a full two days since my night with her, and I hadn’t been able to stop thinking about her. It had been pure heaven to wake up with her lush body curled up against mine. Problem was, once we weren’t tangled up together, she’d gone all polite and guarded again. I hadn’t wanted to push too hard and comment on it because, hell, if there was a playbook on what to do after you have sex with someone who was raped once upon a time, I didn’t have it. So I’d let her be her quiet, reserved self and held back from yanking her back into bed.
We’d gone for our usual run the morning after I woke beside her and again the mornings to follow. I didn’t much like thinking about it, but a bit of me was hurt at her polite reserve. Meanwhile, I was wrestling against a need only she could assuage. I’d fought the urge to toss her over my shoulder and cart her upstairs after our run this morning, yet she’d been on the way to work, so I’d held back. The only time I wasn’t thinking about her was when I was playing ball. The mental escape that saved my sanity from the ugliness of my father when I was a lad still had the power to keep me focused. Thinking about Harper wasn’t something I actually wanted to escape from, yet I was scrambling for a foothold in my mind and heart and body when it came to her. I’d known she wasn’t a convenient arrangement, yet I wasn’t prepared for how it would feel to be with her.
I rolled my head back toward Liam. “Of course I’d never hurt her. What’s Olivia so worried about?”
“Mate, you know what she told you about Harper. Don’t play dumb. She says you’re the first guy Harper’s been interested in since all that went down. She didn’t say much about what Harper might think, but she wouldn’t shut up about Harper not being a fling kind of person and all that.” He paused, his eyes narrowing. “I told her you’re not either, so what is your deal here?”
Liam played the teasing, superficial role so well, it was easy to forget he was damn perceptive. He might’ve been happier than me to enjoy the easy pleasures of casual relationships before he found Olivia, but he was a family lad through and through. Once I saw how much Olivia meant to him, I hadn’t been surprised in the slightest he fell so hard. He was downright domestic now and loved every minute of it. He also knew me quite well.
I eyed the ball in my hands, bouncing it lightly back and forth. “Harper’s no fling for me,” I finally said.
“Ah. Right then. I told Olivia that was probably the case. You don’t do messy, and it would be a right mess if she was a fling, what with her being one of Olivia’s besties. So, I’m not bloody stupid here, but it doesn’t sound like you’ve talked with Harper about how you feel.”
Leave it to Liam to hone in right to the point of contention in my own mind. I glanced back to him and rolled my eyes. “Mate, we had one night. It’s not like I can see too far ahead.”
“Aye. But you’re you. I always said you’d fall first, but then I went and beat you to it.”
Just as I was pondering how to respond, Coach rounded the corner in the hallway. I breathed a silent sigh of relief. I wasn’t up for much more talking about Harper. Not when I was so stirred up in my own head.
Coach paused in front of us. “Hey guys. A heads up we’re scheduled for interviews for that bit for the LA sports channel next month.”
I bit back a groan. There was one thing I detested about playing football professionally, and it was the media circus. I knew it couldn’t be avoided and truth be told, it was better here in the US than back in Britain. There football was close to a religion. Here in the US, their version of football came close, but not soccer. Downside to that was the Seattle Stars management, along with that of the entire US league, was focused on raising the sport’s profile here. While it didn’t have the fervor of playing in Britain, we were often scheduled for profiles, interviews and the like. I nodded to Coach. “Got it.”
Liam chuckled and clapped me on the shoulder as he pushed away from the wall. “You know Alex can’t wait,” he said, flashing Coach a grin.
Coach’s eyes twinkled. “Figured you’d want to know. See you boys tomorrow for practice.” He resumed his walk down the hall, turning into his office.
I walked alongside Liam to the locker room, Harper back on the brain.
Later that afternoon, I walked down the docks at the harbor, Liam strolling at my side. One thing that hadn’t changed since he moved in with Olivia was we still took walks by the harbor after grabbing lunch nearby. We’d developed this habit when we’d been sharing a flat. We’d stop for lunch after practice and meander along the docks for a bit before heading home. Today was breezy and overcast. Gulls called and swooped about in the air. The hum of activity on the docks carried on around us.
No surprise, but I was thinking about Harper. I’d been contemplating how to see her outside of our morning runs. The other night had landed us together by virtue of our mutual friends. I wasn’t such a coward I couldn’t simply ask her, yet I sensed she might be in a different place than I was when it came to us. With the weight of her past heavy in my mind, I didn’t want to push too far too fast. For a flash, I fervently wished I were a different man. My former relationships of pure convenience—tidy and almost business-like—had been so much simpler than this. There was that, and I wasn’t one for flings, never had been. I sensed Harper had set out for one thing with me, but I’d be damned if I let it play out that way. As such, I had to play my hand carefully to win her heart the way I wanted.
We reached the top of the docks and headed back toward my flat. Liam would keep going another few blocks to the flat he shared with Olivia. As we turned onto the street that would cross mine, I happened to glance up and see Joe Schmidt. The second I saw him, one thought drove me as I picked up speed—bashing his face in.
I distantly heard Liam call my name, but I’d started running and didn’t stop until I reached Joe. He had h
is keys out and looked as if he was about to get in the car beside him, a nondescript gray sedan. My brain scanned the car and him, filing away the details, so I’d know every time I saw his car. The man who’d shattered Harper’s life for a time stood before me. My breath came in deep heaves because I’d sprinted to reach him. At a glance, I knew him for what he was—a mean coward. He had dull blonde hair and light blue eyes. My fury was barely in check, but I clung to the smallest bit of control. He needed to know why I was here.
“Excuse me?” he asked, his gaze confused.
“Alex!” Liam called, his voice closer.
I ignored Liam and stared back at Joe. His gaze cleared and he nodded. “Oh, I know you. I’ve seen you running at the park with an old friend of mine. Aren’t you the goalie for the Seattle Stars?”
What little control I had snapped. “Friend? Do you usually call a woman you raped your friend?” I snarled right before plowing my fist into his face.
Joe’s head snapped back with the force of my punch. Blood dripped from his nose, and he sneered at me. “Fuck you.”
Liam reached us and grabbed at my arm, but I shook him off and drove my fist in Joe’s face again. “That’s for Harper.”
I’d hit Joe hard enough this time, he fell against the car and stumbled to the ground. I saw nothing but red and started to lean forward and keep at it, but Liam got a good hold on me this go ‘round and held firm.
“Mate, ease up. Police are on the way right now,” he said, his voice barely filtering through my rage.
I glanced around and the reality of where we were sunk in. We were in a busy section of Seattle by the harbor. Every person nearby was staring at the spectacle I’d created. Joe’s face was bloodied and swelling as I looked back at him. Bloody hell.
A few hours later I sat across from Coach in his office, staring down at my bruised knuckles. Joe had happily pressed charges against me for assault. Liam had stayed with me through the mess and marched me down to the stadium afterwards, declaring I might as well face the music sooner rather than later. It was a definite possibility I could face a conference penalty for getting charged with assault, not to mention the potential negative publicity for the team. I didn’t give a bloody damn, but I knew Liam had a point, so I went along with him.
Coach had met with us together and then asked Liam to wait outside. His countenance was somber and concerned. He watched me quietly before picking up a slinky on his desk and rolling it in a wave between his hands.
“This Harper must mean something to you,” he said, his words falling into the heavy quiet.
“Aye. She does. But I’d have punched the guy if he’d raped anyone I knew. Hell, I guess I think all rapists should get their faces bashed in. It’s bloody horrible and about the worst thing you can do short of killing someone.” My anger had cooled, but I meant my words. It wasn’t that I’d spent a hell of a lot of time contemplating how hellish rape was, but it didn’t take much to think about. It was the worst sort of crime—a crime of cowardice, one that struck intimately in an ugly way and left scars of pain for the victims.
“Don’t disagree with you there. It’s just now we’ve got a bit of a problem to manage. I can handle the media, but you might have a mess to clean up with Harper. She know what happened yet?”
I shrugged. “No idea. Haven’t exactly had a chance to talk to her about it.” I’d been busy getting booked for assault charges instead. Even though I didn’t regret bashing Joe’s face in, I was worried about how Harper might feel about it. The last thing she needed was any publicity about it. There was no way around that though. I cursed myself for not having enough sense to think past the moment.
I took a breath and looked back at Coach. “Any way we can try to ask the media to leave out any revisiting of what happened to Harper?”
Coach sighed and set the slinky down. “We can try, but I looked the guy up as soon as Liam called me from the police station. First online search brings up an article about how he got kicked off the university track team after he was charged for rape. No matter how respectful the journalists want to be, this is a good story. Alex Gordon, soccer star, avenging a woman. I can see it now. I’ll do what I can, but it is what it is,” Coach said with a slow shake of his head.
Bloody hell. I’d gone and made a mess of this for Harper. I nodded. “Right then. Am I facing any discipline with the team?”
Coach leaned back in his chair and angled his head to the side. He was quiet so long, I didn’t know what to expect. “No. I might have to answer for it, but no. What you did was stupid, but you’ve owned up to it and, as far as I’m concerned, you had cause. Hell, athletes face no discipline for far worse offenses. We’ll have to see if the league thinks otherwise, but we can deal with it. I’ll take the heat if I’m defending a guy who punched the man who raped his girlfriend. Go home and cool off.”
I met Liam outside Coach’s office minutes later. Liam, being the good mate he was, didn’t say a word on the way to dropping me off at my flat. I stood outside my place and leaned down to check on Callie. She wasn’t there. No surprise given it was midday. I straightened and started walking to Harper’s. I needed to see her. Now.
Chapter Twelve
Harper
At the sound of a knock on my door, I crossed the living room to answer, wondering who it was. Usually Daisy or Olivia would be the only people to stop by unannounced. I swung it open to find Alex standing there. My heart jumpstarted at the sight of him. He had both hands resting on the edges of the doorframe with his head bowed when I opened the door. His brown hair was mussed. He lifted his head, his dark chocolate gaze slamming into mine, and my heart kicked up another notch. His gaze was direct and intense, simmering with feeling.
“Can I come in?” he asked gruffly.
My eyes absorbed the sight of him greedily. I’d barely been able to put the brakes on my thoughts of him ever since the other night. Two days of fevered fantasies and replays of what it felt like to have his hands and mouth mapping my body and the feel of him inside of me when I came. He wore a gray t-shirt that caressed his muscled chest and faded jeans that hugged his legs. I knew what every inch of him felt like underneath. Raw need clawed at me, and I tried to rein my body in. It was no use—having Alex anywhere near me sent my pulse into the stratosphere and heat roaring through me. I managed to nod and step back from the door.
He followed me inside and slipped his hands into his pockets. As I looked at him, I realized he seemed, well, nervous was the only word I could conjure to describe what I sensed. I chewed on my bottom lip, uncertain what to say. “Do you want something to drink? Or eat?” I asked inanely.
He shook his head. After a moment, he rolled his shoulders. “I fucked up,” he said suddenly.
“Huh?”
“I saw Joe, and I hit him. Twice,” he said flatly.
My stomach churned as I stared back at Alex. I’d like to think I was a better person, one who could rise above the need to punch back at someone who’d hurt me terribly. But I wasn’t and I didn’t really care just now. A rush of satisfaction rose inside, and my heart felt like it was going to explode.
“You hit him?”
Alex nodded, his gaze worried. “Left him with a bloody nose and a black eye. I’d like to say I regret it, but I don’t. Problem is, I got charged with assault and it happened in the middle of a bunch of people. Liam managed to keep me from making more of a spectacle, but I thought you should know because, well because it’ll probably end up on the news somewhere.”
I heard Alex’s words and knew them to be true, but I was so focused on the fact that he’d gone after Joe for me that I didn’t really care. “I…I can’t believe it. Are you okay? Did he hit you?”
Alex looked so startled, I almost laughed. I doubted it ever occurred to Alex he might not be able to hold his own against Joe, or any man for that matter.
“Of course I’m okay,” he finally said. “The only bad part is the charges and the fact there’s no way this will stay quie
t. I don’t care about it for me, but I didn’t want it to end up dredging up what happened to you.”
I tried to wrap my brain around that, but I simply didn’t care. Not right now. “I don’t want to think about that,” I said, reaching for his hands and giving a little tug.
His hands slid out of his pockets and curled around mine. I took a few steps back until my knees bumped the couch where I sat down. He followed along, sitting down beside me. I didn’t quite know what to say, so I repeated my earlier question. “Are you sure you don’t want something to drink? I’ve got coffee ready.”
His gaze searched mine before he finally nodded. “Sure.”
I bounced up and hurried into the kitchen, snagging two cups from the cabinet and pouring coffee. Within moments, I returned to the couch and handed him a cup. He took a long swallow and sighed before leaning back into the couch. I tucked a foot under my knee as I sat down and curled my hands tightly around my coffee. I tried to plumb the depths of my feelings, but they were a muddle.
In the initial months after Joe raped me, I’d have probably sold my soul to have someone punch him. The need to strike back had been so intense, yet it had been blunted by the mingled feelings of shame and emotional devastation. I learned the hard way it doesn’t really matter what people tell you after you get raped. It’s not your fault. There’s nothing to be ashamed of. You didn’t do anything wrong. None of that sinks in when the prosecutor is telling you to be prepared for questions about your sexual history and when well-meaning people practically run from the room if anything close to the topic comes up. My sexual history had been remarkably bland in the big scheme, but it was amazing to see how things could get twisted.