Donovan (Face-Off Series Book 3)

by Jillian Quinn

  “You really are growing up,” he says with a genuine smile. “The Sydney I know would have ripped that guy a new one over ruining your coat. You didn’t even yell at him. To say your reaction surprised me would be an understatement. I hope it works out with you and this guy. He seems to be having a positive effect on your life. Now, if only he can do the same for your writing.”

  Sam collects our trash and escorts me toward the door, making sure no one touches me this time. Once we’re on the street, I am able to breathe easier. But that’s not saying much with the thick scent of exhaust fumes and smoke lingering in my nostrils.

  “I wish,” I confess. “My writing has suffered big time since I met Carter. I find myself thinking about him more than I should and at the worst times. The other day, I was sitting at my desk and watching porn, you know for writing purposes, and I started wondering if Carter would want to try out what they were doing on my screen.”

  Sam makes a gagging sound as he laughs, holding onto my hand as we cross the street at the light. “I was hoping for something a little more deep and meaningful, and here you’re thinking of dirty things to do with this guy. Maybe your problem is that everything is about sex with you. It’s hard for a man to take a woman as beautiful as you seriously when you’re always talking about sex.”

  “I’m a romance author and smut writer, Sam. It’s no different than you talking to a girl about publishing.”

  “True…but you could talk about the other aspects of your career and not just the sex. If you make everything—even your job—about sex, a man will only think that way when it comes to you and the relationship.”

  “But our relationship started with sex. I took Carter upstairs the first night we met, and we masturbated together.” My body tingles from the thought of Carter and his monster cock and those big strong hands wrapped around it as he jerked himself off while he watched me finger my pussy. It was so hot and intense, unlike anything I ever experienced with another man. We have a connection that I can’t even describe. When we’re in the same room together, it’s as if sparks ignite between us.

  Sam chuckles, as he should. Because who does the kind of things I do? People must think I am ridiculous. To some extent, I guess I am. The joke was on me once again.

  “Why am I not surprised, Sydney. If you want him back, you will need to make a non-sexual gesture.”

  “But I don’t know how to do anything else. You’re killing me, Sam. All my go-to moves are sexual. If I can get him hard and happy, that will give me some time to convince him I’m not so bad.”

  He sighs, shaking his head. “You never listen to anyone. Why would I be any different? Even when I send you my notes on your books, you ignore them and pretend that your way is right, as per the usual.”

  “I take your notes into consideration all the time, and it’s not like I have a choice. You have final say on everything. Maybe I just don’t like being bossed around by men. I like to do things on my own time and with my own set of rules. Is that so bad?”

  He opens the door to the drug store, holding it for me to enter. “No, it’s not a bad thing per say, but you have to bend sometimes. The world does not rotate around you.”

  “I’m sure you’re familiar with the phrase, Give someone an inch, and they’ll take a mile. In my experience, that’s what men do when women give into them, and I am not some toy for them to play with. But for you, Sam, I just like to keep you on your toes.”

  “That you do,” he says, looking up at the signs for the soda aisle. “Never a dull moment when you are around.”

  We finally find the club soda after combing through the shelves and make our way to the front of the store to checkout. The ketchup has already set into the fabric. But I hold out hope that I can get some of it out before having to explain to my mother that I destroyed a collector’s item.

  She would’ve had a fit if she saw where we ate lunch. I’m nothing like her, which makes me hate the fact that everyone lumps me into the same category they would with her. Am I rich? Yes, and I will not apologize for being born into wealth. But that doesn’t mean I am above other people or unable to relate. If that were true, my books would be shit, and no one would buy them.

  I have an idea, a new plan. If everyone sees a self-entitled princess when they look at me, I need to change their minds. Starting with Carter. Right after I remove this stain.

  Chapter 10

  Carter

  Within a few weeks of telling Jenny she could come for a visit, she was knocking on my door with baby Kyle in her arms and enough suitcases to get them through a month on the pavement next to them. It has been four days since my sister and her son showed up. I had no idea how much work it takes to care for a child until I spent four long days with Kyle crying for his bottle.

  This house is far from baby proof, with lots of sharp edges, large furniture to climb onto, and plenty of places to hide. Every minute I’m not at practice or with my trainer, I spend at home with Jenny, helping her run around after Kyle. He keeps both of us on our toes.

  Now, I see what Tyler is in for after Kennedy pops out their kid. My best friend will no longer have a life. I’m not even a dad, and I haven’t gotten much sleep or time to myself in the few days spent with Kyle and Jenny. I can only imagine the manswings Tyler will have once he’s going through this day in and day out.

  After Kyle wakes up from his nap, Jenny plays with him for a while before she puts him back in his playpen. He’s shaking some toy, laughing to himself and looking over at us periodically as he does this.

  Leaning against the armrest of the couch, I smile at him, wondering what it would be like to settle down and have a family like Tyler. I still haven’t processed it all. When Tyler told me about the baby, I was surprised, but at the same time, I wasn’t. He and Kennedy fuck like crazy, and I know how much he hates condoms. Birth control or not that shit isn’t bulletproof.

  “You’re so good with Kyle,” Jenny says, plopping down on the couch next to me. “He’s usually shy around new people, but he took to you right away.”

  “I’m not bad with kids,” I tell her, waving at my three month old nephew. He laughs and continues shaking the toy in his tiny hands. “I just don’t have the time or the patience.”

  “You would also need to keep a girl around for more than a week to make that a reality,” she deadpans, sinking her petite frame into the cushions.

  Unlike me, my sister is small and delicate and blonde and soft-spoken—just like our mother. Those are the few things I remember about our mom without having to ask Jenny to tell me what she was like. In some ways, Jenny has always been a mother to me.

  When I think of the person who tucked me in at night, Jenny comes to mind. She drove me to school every morning until I graduated from high school and made sure I never missed hockey practice. But she started long before I found hockey.

  “I don’t have problems keeping women around. It’s getting rid of them that’s the hard part.”

  Jenny shakes her head at me, not at all amused. “At some point in your life, you have to let someone in, or you will die alone in this big house by yourself, and I don’t want that for you, baby bro. You can be happy. Just let it happen for once.”

  Kicking my feet up on the coffee table, I turn my head to the side to look at Jenny. “Women take too much work, and with my hockey schedule, I don’t have the time for anything permanent.”

  She frowns at my comment and crosses her arms over her chest. “Your friends don’t have an issue with keeping women around, and they’re on the same team as you. The difference is they make time, and you don’t.”

  Anytime she starts nagging me about my game or women, I shut down. This conversation never ends well. She knows the reasons I keep women at a distance, yet she constantly tries to convince me that I would be happy if I found someone to share my life with the way she did with Steve.

  I suck in a deep breath and let it out. “Attachments are bad for my game, and I already have enough problem
s. I have to get back to being myself again before I can consider a relationship that lasts for more than a few days.”

  “What about that girl you were seeing? You haven’t mentioned her in a while.”

  “She’s not the marrying kind,” I spit out, annoyed with myself about how I ended things with Sydney. More like how I didn’t end things with her. I went for the man move and stopped calling.

  Sydney called and sent text messages. I deleted them all. I’m a dick. I feel like a jerk for icing her out, but I knew that was the only way to get her out of my life. As much as I wanted Sydney to become a part of it, her games were wearing me down, fucking with my head. A girl like Sydney would let me get close and then pull the rug out from under me. She wouldn’t be the first. I know her type. Hell, I am that type, which is why I can identify so much with her. The games were hot and fun while they had lasted. But I need more, a lot more than she was willing to give.

  “What do you mean by that? Every girl is the marrying kind. You just need to find the right one.”

  I shake my head. “Nope. Sydney is all about the chase. Girls like her are too high maintenance and too much work. She kept asking about my past and then withheld sex from me when I wouldn’t tell her more.”

  “It wouldn’t kill you to open up to someone, Carter,” she shoots back.

  “I tell you things. Isn’t that enough?”

  “I’m your sister, not your girlfriend. There’s a huge difference.”

  “I’m not comfortable telling women about my past. No one wants to hear about the things Dad did to me or and why I still to this day cannot take my shirt off when I have sex with a woman. I am fucked up, Jenny. You know this already. We went through a lot when we were kids, and it doesn’t get any easier as an adult.”

  “You have to let go of the past and move on.”

  “Easy for you to say,” I growl, my words venomous. “You didn’t go through half of what I did with Dad. You don’t have the scars as a reminder.” Feeling sorry, I apologize. My sister doesn’t deserve to get yelled at because of my insecurities.

  “It’s okay,” she says, reaching out to touch my arm. She runs her fingers along my forearm to sooth me, something she used to do to help calm my nerves when I was a kid. “Don’t you take your shirt off around your teammates? How do they not know? You cannot hide forever, Carter. Some day you will need to let someone shine a light on your darkness.”

  Just like Tyler, she uses my own words against me. I glance down at the script tattoo on my wrist and scowl. Sydney had no idea what she was asking. My life is far from simple and too complicated to let her into it.

  “I shower around the guys, so it’s not like I keep my shirt on around them. A few people have asked me about my tattoos over the years, but men do not pry the way women do. And it’s not like I don’t have enough ink on my body to distract them from seeing what’s beneath the drawings.”

  “Have you gotten any more since I last saw you?”

  I nod. “Yes. One more. Now, there’s only one missing piece to the puzzle.”

  She peeks over at Kyle, grinning at him once he makes eye contact and too busy to stop messing around with his toy. Then, she turns back to me, her smile replaced by a frown. Her facial expression changes from a sunny disposition to storm clouds rolling across the sky. “Can I see the latest addition?”

  A bit apprehensive, I sit up and pull my shirt over my head. It has been a while since I let someone see my back, apart from showers in the locker room. But even then, I try to get in and get out. Tyler knows how I feel about sharing that part of myself and will take my secrets to his grave, just as I would do the same for him.

  Trying to explain the jigsaw puzzle I had started after high school has never been easy. Years ago, I tried to explain it to a few women, only to have them walk away from me afterward. The amount of shame and anger the conversation about my past conjures up makes them leaving because of it so much worse. They look at me as though I am weak, no longer the man they once knew. Some things are out of my control, and my past is one of them. Which is the reason I choose to keep it buried—where it belongs.

  Only Jenny and Tyler understand the meaning behind my tattoos.

  “The puzzle is almost complete,” Jenny says, tracing her fingers over my scars and causing me to flinch in the process. I hate when people touch me. Even my own flesh and blood.

  “What’s missing?” She asks, feeling my scars. “You have room for one more.”

  “I don’t know.” I do my best not to scream out in pain as her fingers roll over every bad memory. While the marks themselves don’t hurt, the thought of how they had gotten there still stings. “I’ll let you know when I figure the last one out.”

  “I’m sure one day it will come to you.” Jenny touches me one last time before she retracts her hand and falls back onto her side of the couch.

  “Yeah, eventually I will figure out what is missing in my life. Until then, I’m keeping the last spot open. My story is still being written.”

  Without wasting another second, I slip my shirt back over my head and tug it over my tats. I feel better having them covered up. Having them exposed makes me feel vulnerable, even though Jenny understands the reason for them.

  Jenny bites down on her bottom lip, concentrating on what she wants to say next. “You know dad—”

  I stop her before she can finish speaking about our father. “Don’t even try it,” I warn her, my tone rough and harsh. “I have nothing left to say to him. His words mean nothing to me.”

  “He wants to apologize to you, make amends before he dies.” Jenny attempts to squeeze my hand, but I slide away from her. We did enough touching for one day.

  “Death is too kind for what he deserves,” I retort, meaning every word. My father is the worst man I have ever known. It’s a miracle I survived him.

  “Don’t be like that, Carter. I know he was the hardest on you, but he loves you.”

  “He never loved me. Dad loved you but never me. All Dad ever showed me was how much hatred is inside him. I don’t care what happens to him because he’s already dead to me.”

  “Carter,” she breaths, unable to finish her train of thought. We have nothing more to say.

  Jenny stares me down from across the couch, hoping I will change my mind. I won’t. How can so much good be inside her after what we had endured? Jenny is so much like our mother, a ray of sunshine, and my only light in a tunnel of darkness.

  When Kyle starts crying, I hop off the couch. “I’ll get him,” I announce, desperate for a break from this conversation.

  I pick the little guy up from the playpen and cradle him against my chest, stroking his back to calm him down. Tyler should come over here to practice on Kyle. He will need it. I still can’t believe how much his life has changed this year. I hope to find someone who I can talk to the way I do with Jenny. But I doubt I will ever be comfortable enough with a woman to let them cast a light on my darkness.

  Despite my best efforts, I cannot get Kyle to stop crying. He needs his mother.

  Jenny comes up from behind me and says, “Here, give him to me.”

  She jiggles a toy that has plastic keys hanging from a ring at Kyle as she takes him from me.

  He starts to smile with tears still running down his cheeks. Kyle is lucky to have such wonderful, loving parents. The home my sister and her husband provide for their son is how a child should grow up. No one should have to deal with what we had to endure as kids. At least my father liked Jenny enough to leave her alone and save his wrath for me.

  I made sure of it. As much as I hate my dad for the things he did to me, I would’ve hated myself even more if I hadn’t stepped in for Jenny. She needed my protection, and she got it. Jenny deserved that much after all the sacrifices she had made for me. When my dad was in a bad mood, he spared no one, and I made sure he exhausted all his anger on me. I never let him lift a finger to hurt Jenny.

  Jenny walks out of the living room with Kyle in her arms,
singing a song to him under her breath. By the time she hits the main entrance, the doorbell rings. No one comes here. Ever. Not unless I invite them, which is rare. Tyler is the only person other than my trainer who has ever stepped foot inside this house since I bought it five years ago.

  “Can I help you?” Jenny asks, her voice traveling down the hall.

  I begin to move toward the front door when I hear Sydney’s voice and stop dead in my tracks.

  “I’m looking for Carter. Does he live here?”

  “Yes.” Jenny gives nothing else away. “What can I help you with?”

  Leaning against the wall between the sitting room and the hall, I wait for Sydney to continue. Why did she come here? She must have had a purpose for driving over to New Jersey. My house is about an hour drive from her apartment with traffic. It’s not like she lives around the corner and can use the excuse that she was in the neighborhood.

  “Um…nothing, I guess.” For once, Sydney sounds unsure of herself. “Have a nice day,” she mutters, her voice trailing off as if she has left.

  Even though her visit has piqued my interest, I have no desire to step into the hall and show myself. Jenny has learned over the years how to deal with situations like this one. She’s an expert at getting rid of women. I’m not ready to face Sydney. But I know I can’t avoid her forever.

  Chapter 11

  Sydney

  It takes every bit of nerve I have in my body to drive straight from Manhattan and into New Jersey to confront Carter. After slaving over the sink in the women’s bathroom at my publisher’s office, I managed to get most of the ketchup stain out of my jacket. At least I look somewhat presentable, despite the tiny blemish.