Confessions (New Beginnings #4)

by Michelle Lynn

  She held the phone away from her face and uttered a few curses before slipping into a mode she hadn’t used since she moved: big sister mode. He’d been in a lot of trouble through the years, and she’d always been there to help him out of it. But somehow she knew this wasn’t his fault. When she first announced she was going away to college, her parents locked her in her room. She had to figure out how to climb down from her window.

  “What are the charges?” she asked.

  “They think I stole a car,” he practically yelled before taking a minute to calm down. “It was late, so I borrowed Dad’s car without asking. I just had to run to the store. He reported it stolen the minute I left the house. He had to have seen me. When the cops pulled me over, they found Dad’s stash in the glove compartment.”

  “Please tell me it was only his weed.” She ran a shaky hand through her hair, pulling it at the ends.

  “Yeah, he hasn’t had the money for anything harder lately.” Eric paused. “They aren’t charging me. You know how it is here. These cops, they know Dad. But they won’t let me go unless someone picks me up and pays my bail.”

  “Shit.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “Don’t you dare apologize for that man,” she growled. “This is not your fault.”

  “What are you going to do?”

  “I’m coming to get my brother.” Thunder cracked overhead as the sea rolled in the distance, angry and churning, just like her mood. “I can’t get there until tomorrow night. You okay ‘til then?”

  “Yeah.” He let out a small laugh, and it sounded strange in the context of the conversation. “It’s not like it’s the first time I’ve spent a couple nights in jail.”

  Her body hummed with anger as she hung up. Leaving the window behind, she headed directly for her room, flopping down onto her bed as hot tears fell from her eyes. She hated to cry, always had. Living with her family had made her strong, resilient. They’d made it so that they were the only ones that could make her cry.

  She buried her face in her pillow and let out a short scream. It’d been a year since she got out; a year since she left her parents, and her brother, behind. She could remember times when she was a kid that Children’s Services would come around, and they’d have to put on the act of being the perfect little family. She knew the consequences if she didn’t. Sometimes she wondered if it would’ve been better if they had found something wrong.

  Grabbing the pillow with one hand, she flung it across the room with a grunt, not realizing the door had opened. Grant caught the pillow in mid-air.

  “I thought you went to lunch,” she growled.

  “Decided not to.” He shrugged and threw the pillow back on the bed.

  “Go away.”

  “Why?”

  “Grant, please.”

  “Are you okay?”

  “No.”

  He walked forward and sat on the bed uninvited.

  She sat up, swiping a hand across her face, embarrassment eating away at the corners of her frustration.

  “What’s wrong?” he asked softly.

  Not even Taylor knew about her brother or the life she once had, but she was tired of hiding it. She’d been doing it her entire life, and it felt like a considerable weight that forever sat on her shoulders. Grant said he wanted to know her after sharing the hardest parts of his life. She realized no one really knew her, and she desperately wanted that to change.

  “You aren’t the only one with a screwed-up family, okay?”

  “Tell me,” he said.

  Tears welled in her eyes again, but she blinked them away.

  Her sordid family history came spilling out. She couldn’t stop it if she’d tried. It felt too good. Someone would finally see her for who she was and who she was trying not to be.

  Grant wrapped his arms around her and held her as she talked. He didn’t interrupt, and when she was done, he didn’t say anything. She appreciated the silence and the sturdiness of his strong arms keeping her together.

  He kissed the top of her head and then rested his chin against her hair.

  “Sorry to ruin our last day here,” she said, laughing nervously.

  “Shhh,” he murmured. “I’m glad you told me.”

  A little while later, he called the airline to change her ticket so she could fly up to Nashville instead of Columbus.

  “I also booked you a hotel room for a couple nights.” He leaned back on her bed as she packed her bag.

  “You didn’t have to do that.”

  He ignored that. “Just promise me you’ll be okay.”

  “I will.”

  “I hate the thought of you running into them.”

  “Trust me, I don’t plan on doing that.”

  “Okay, just keep me updated.” He stood up to kiss her before heading out to pack his own bag.

  ###

  It was a different airport, but standing in front of the gate to Nashville felt exactly the same as it did two weeks ago in Columbus. Only this time, that was where she had to go, and she was alone. Grant, Taylor, and Josh’s route to Columbus took them through Miami, while she stood amongst the crowds in Atlanta.

  Abigail looked around one more time and hiked her purse higher on her shoulder before walking up to the ticketing agent and boarding the plane.

  The flight wasn’t long, and by the time she arrived, her nerves had her wired as if she’d been drinking coffee the entire time. She retrieved her bag and headed for ground transportation to grab a cab. It was late afternoon so she could head directly to the police station.

  Their town was just outside of Nashville, away from the excitement and the charm that was Music City.

  The white stone building that housed the police station was all too familiar. Cruisers sat outside, and uniformed men and women came and went. It was a busy station. The cab pulled up along the curb and she leaned her head back, closing her eyes for a second as she tried to breathe evenly.

  Steeling herself against the onslaught of emotions, she exited the cab and grabbed her bag out of the trunk. She didn’t know how long this was going to take, so she’d have to call another cab to pick them up.

  Unclenching her fist, she reached for the door and wheeled her suitcase in behind her. The shell she’d built around herself cracked as soon as she walked in and the sounds assaulted her. Somewhere, a phone rang continuously. A man stood at the front desk arguing with the woman in blue behind it. Officers worked at desks, stood near a coffee maker, and walked back and forth between offices.

  She knew the dance. It was the same every time she had to pick her father or brother up and spent her hard earned money on bail. He father had always been quick to remind her that it wasn’t her money - not when she lived in his house.

  The first time she’d been there was when she was twelve, and her mom brought her along. It wasn’t something she ever forgot.

  Abigail’s blonde curls were tied back. She wore no makeup to cover up the deep circles under her eyes, and she still wore her travel sweats. She was sure she fit in with some of the people in the cells here, but couldn’t seem to care. This was just a nightmare she wanted over and done with.

  The man at the counter walked into the back with the officer who’d been helping him as Abigail stepped forward. A young man saw her waiting and walked over.

  “Abigail Stewart?” he asked.

  She looked up with heavy lids. “Yeah.”

  “Riley Christ.” He placed a palm on his chest. “We went to high school together.”

  He smiled brightly, but she could only manage a nod. She remembered him. He’d been a friend of her brother’s despite being her age. His smile slipped at her demeanor. It was as if setting foot in this town sapped all the confidence from her bones. She reverted to the sullen girl she was before.

  “You’re a cop?” she finally asked, not quite believing it.

  “Surprising, right?” He grinned. “Eric and I used to ge
t in a lot of trouble.” He laughed. “I’m not really a cop, though. Not yet. I’m going to start at the academy soon. For now, I’m just working the desk here.”

  “Good for you.” She finally managed a tight smile.

  “Are you looking for Eric?” he asked.

  “Yeah, could you bring him out for me?”

  “No need,” he said. “Your dad came and got him.”

  “Shit.” She sighed. “Shit shit shit.”

  “I know. I was a little surprised, being he’s the one who called in his stolen car.”

  Abigail ran a tired hand over the top of her head and looked back towards the door. She pulled out her phone, but Eric hadn’t called or texted. Her thumb hovered over his name for a moment before she pressed down. It didn’t even ring.

  “Straight to voice-mail,” she groaned.

  “Look,” Riley said. “You seem exhausted. You’re going to need your strength if you plan on dealing with them.”

  She looked back up at him. “I guess you’re right.”

  “Do you have a place to stay?” he asked.

  “Yeah. I’ve got a hotel room.”

  “Then come on.” He grabbed his keys and moved around the desk. “I’ll drive you. They won’t mind if I leave for a few minutes. You can get some sleep, and then I’ll pick you up in the morning to take you over there.”

  Her shoulders dropped as she realized just how defeated she already felt. She let him lead her towards his cruiser. He lifted her bag into the trunk and took his seat beside her.

  She glanced sideways. “Riley?”

  “Yeah?”

  “Thanks.” The corner of her mouth tilted up momentarily before flattening out again. “I’m not really used to experiencing kindness in this town.”

  ###

  Mack paced outside General Manager John Simms’s front door. This was not done, and he knew that. Showing up at your general manager’s home was a definite no-no, especially when you were in the middle of contentious contract negotiations. But he needed to do this, to finally own up to the mistakes in his past.

  A part of him wondered if he ever would have done so if Derek hadn’t run his mouth to Colin. He hoped he would. He hoped he’d grown, but that wasn’t something he’d ever know. You didn’t get to see the choices you’d make if things were different.

  Their plane touched down in Columbus two hours ago, and he went home to drop off his bag and take a quick shower. His hair was still slightly damp, but the evening was warm. He’d thrown on a deep blue polo and a pair of khaki shorts. He even shaved the bit of gruff he’d grown in St. Croix. It was time to make an impression. He saw this as his last chance with the Jackets.

  Shifting from one foot to the other, he nervously waited for someone to answer the door.

  A lock clicked on the other side seconds before the door swung open, revealing a petite middle-aged woman with dark thinning hair and bright eyes. She moved cautiously, as if she’d fall at any moment.

  “Hello,” she said pleasantly. “You must be one of my husband’s players.”

  John Simms was a private man. He kept his personal life, including his wife, away from the team and out of the spotlight. Mack had always found that strange.

  “Grant Mackenzie.” He stuck out his hand. She took it and squeezed so lightly he barely felt it.

  “It’s so nice to meet you, young man.” She smiled as wide as her thin lips let her. “Let me get him for you.”

  She gestured him inside and then went off to find her husband. Mack felt strange being in this house. It was large but comfortable. Pictures of family and friends adorned the dark green walls. Beautiful hardwood floors stretched the length of the room. Mack wandered into the living room, where a large fireplace and mantle centered the room surrounded by leather couches.

  “Mackenzie,” a gruff voice said behind him.

  Mack turned and met the eye of his GM, his resolve slipping even further.

  “Mr. Simms.” Mack offered his hand and they shook.

  “I don’t know why you felt the need to show up here tonight, but it better be damn important.”

  “It is, sir. I promise.”

  “Then sit down.”

  Mack sank into the couch, his restless leg bouncing up and down continuously.

  “This better not be about your contract,” he said. “Your agent needs to handle that.”

  “It’s not about that.”

  “Well, then talk. I don’t have all night.”

  Mack leaned forward with his elbows on his knees. “I don’t know how to start.”

  “You’re making me nervous, Mackenzie.”

  Mack sighed. “I need to tell you a story,” he began. “You aren’t going to like this.” He paused. Whatever happened, he just wanted the truth out there.

  “My mom was diagnosed with lung cancer a few months after I was drafted,” he said, holding back his emotions. “Never smoked a day in her life. Six months later, she was gone. Before you say anything, I didn’t let the team know because I couldn’t deal with it. It didn’t seem real to me, yet at the same time it seemed like the only real thing in my life. I didn’t care about anything else. Cancer took everything from me, and hockey couldn’t even begin to fill that hole. My sister used to say I was trying to destroy myself, but I always thought I was just getting through the day. Now I know better.”

  Mr. Simms stayed silent as Mack went through the events that took place in Vegas. His eyes didn’t betray what he was thinking, but Mack continued anyway.

  He got to the part about Derek and Colin and the article, and looked away in embarrassment. “I know this is going to bring a lot of heat down on the team,” he said. “That’s the last thing I wanted. This year, despite certain charity events where my fists overrode my brain, I finally feel like I’m in control of my life again. I want this, sir. This is probably the first time I’m not playing this game just because I’m good at it. I think I need it - no matter what team I’m on.”

  Mack looked into his eyes again. “The article comes out in a few days. Whatever you have to do because of this, I understand.”

  “That’s quite a story, son.” Mr. Simms stood up and paced from one side of the room to the other.

  Before he could say anything else, his wife appeared. “Can I get you two anything before I turn in?” she asked.

  “No, thanks, dear.”

  “Just don’t be up too late. Remember, I have a treatment in the morning.” She winked at him and blew a kiss before disappearing up the stairs.

  Mack looked up at his GM with a question in his eyes. A question he wasn’t sure he had a right to ask.

  Mr. Simms spared him. His gaze was still on the stairs when he said, “Breast cancer.” He turned to look at Mack.

  There was a moment of solidarity in their shared experience. Mack knew the man in front of him got it, and understanding is a powerful thing. A sadness overwhelmed him for what he knew was coming for that sweet woman and the ones she’d leave behind.

  “Mackenzie.” Mr. Simms sat down again. “I appreciate your honesty. I think I was wrong about you. What that means for your future with this team remains to be seen, but if a trade happens, know it will not be because of what you’ve told me tonight.”

  The corner of Mack’s mouth lifted for the first time since he arrived. He’d done all he could do. His life was no longer controlled by his secrets.

  He rose, said his goodbyes and walked out into the clear summer night, feeling lighter than he had in a long time.

  The only sound to permeate his mind was the soft buzzing of his phone signaling a text message.

  I don’t know if I can do this, Abigail wrote.

  Just grab your brother and get back here to me, he responded, grinning at the thought of having her with him.

  If only it were that simple. He’s at my parents’ house.

  Mack climbed into his car and threw his phone on the seat beside him befo
re curling his fingers around the steering wheel. The feeling he’d had only moments before was gone in an instant, leaving a fog of anger in his mind. He knew she’d scoff at the idea, but something inside of him wanted to protect the girl who was having an unfamiliar effect on his heart.

  Eight

  The room Grant had booked for her was nicer than any she’d ever stayed in. After Riley dropped her off the night before, she soaked her tired bones in the large Jacuzzi before passing out in the oversized bed. This morning she’d had trouble making herself leave the extreme comfort that bed provided. She knew as soon as she left it, she’d have to face the day. It was the kind of day she’d avoided for the past year. The kind of day that terrified her.

  She let the scorching hot water run through her hair for a moment longer before turning off the shower and throwing back the curtain. Her fingers wrung as much water from her hair as they could before she wrapped herself in a towel.

  Goosebumps appeared across her skin as she stepped from the warm bathroom to the cooler bedroom, and she shivered involuntarily.

  She was running late. Riley would be there in a few minutes, and she had no time to get ready. Abigail was not someone who would ever be seen without what she called her “game face”. She wasn’t one to leave the house in sweats, and always took the time on her hair.

  But today she didn’t care. It didn’t matter to her what those people saw when they looked at her. Her mother had been the one to put it into her head that she didn’t look good unless she had gobs of makeup on.

  Abigail pulled on a pair of jeans and a cotton t-shirt before heading back into the bathroom. Using the palm of her hand, she wiped the condensation from the mirror. Once she could see herself, she smirked as she held a hair-band in between her lips and used her fingers to brush her wet hair up into a messy bun before twisting the band around it.

  There were circles under her eyes and her nose was peeling, the last remnant of the past two weeks’ vacation. She stepped out of the bathroom and grabbed her purse before turning off the light and shutting the door behind her.

  Riley’s car was idling out front, and he smiled when he saw her.