“Dad?”
“Oh, Faith, I was hoping to catch you. How have you been?” He sounds cheerful.
“Fine. How about you?”
He pauses, and I can hear the change in tone before he even speaks again. “Faith, I’ve been trying to get a hold of you.”
That’s strange, because my phone is with me at all times, especially when Darcy is at school. And I wouldn’t want to miss a call or text from Tristan. Besides, there have been no missed calls showing up. “Oh?” I reply feebly, waiting for him to explain.
“Yeah, it’s about the money you sent me.” He sighs, but it’s muffled, and I can picture him running his hand over his face. “It isn’t enough. They’re still going to take the house. You told me how much you get paid each month, but you only sent half of it. So, you must’ve been paid again by now. Maybe you could send me another five thousand now and then—”
“It’s the store.”
“What?”
“The store,” I repeat. “You told me they were going to foreclose on the store last time. That’s why I sent the money you asked for.” My hands are shaking. I can’t even think straight.
“Yes, the store.” There’s an edge in his voice. “They’re still threatening to take it, too.”
That’s not what he said last time. “I thought you said the money I already sent would cover whatever’s in arrears on the store and the house, and would be enough to get you back on track?”
There’s a dead silence on the other end of the line.
“It was,” he exclaims, but he sounds unsure of himself. “For that month.”
I take a deep breath, letting it out painstakingly slowly so he won’t hear it. This man—my father—is flat-out lying to me. And it’s breaking my heart more and more with each word he spits out.
“It’s gone.” It’s a lie I feel compelled to tell him.
When this is all over, after I finish looking after Darcy and Ferguson, I have an apartment and a life to get back to. It’s not much of one, but I do have to have money available to get back on my feet. At this rate, there won’t be a penny left if I’m not careful.
“All of it?” He’s just as suspicious as I am. “You can’t have spent it.”
I follow it up with another lie. “I put it in an investment fund, Dad. I want to make sure that if I don’t get a scholarship, at least I can still go to college.”
He laughs shakily. “You had me worried. I thought you did something dumb like spend it on a car or something. That means that you can take it out of the fund.”
I shake my head. This can’t be happening. “No. It’s a locked-in investment. I did it that way so I wouldn’t be tempted to spend it.”
“I never in a million years thought you’d be so damn selfish,” Dad spits out. “You’re out living the life with that hockey player, and you don’t even have the decency to help out the man who raised you. I need that money, Faith. You’re not going to have a job to come back to if you keep this up.”
I hang up before he says another word.
Tears sting my eyelids. What the hell is going on? I’ve never known Dad to be like this.
Why would he lie? Better yet, what else is he lying about?
My minds begin to spin. The late nights Dad kept, that I never batted an eyelash about. The Sundays he insisted he had to go to the store, even though it wasn’t open.
I believed every word he ever said, always had. He’s my dad. And I’ve never had any reason to doubt him.
Until now. Which brings me back to my original question. Why lie?
Whatever the truth is, he’s been hiding it for a long time. He gambles, and he drinks. Hell, I’ve smelled it on his breath many times. All his friends do, too. It’s never occurred to me before to wonder if he does too much of it, though.
I know I’m grasping at straws. I don’t even know if it makes sense to come to such a conclusion. My hands are shaking as I turn the key in the ignition. I need to pull myself together. I need to go pick up the kids. Most of all, I need to dry the tears that won’t seem to stop falling.
There are only two things I know for sure I as pull the car out of the parking lot. The first is that no matter what Dad needs that money for, it’s not my problem. The second is that I have no intentions of going back home.
Chapter Twenty
Faith
I know my time in Tristan’s house, living Tristan’s life, is coming to an end. And I know that this thing between me and him isn’t real.
But that doesn’t mean I haven’t gotten lost in the whole allure of it. Hell, I bought sexy lingerie for our sexy Skype calls. If that doesn’t scream “I’ve got it bad!”, I don’t know what does.
It all seems like a dream. But that dream crashed into reality when he surprised me by coming home a day earlier than expected. One minute I’d been conjuring up erotic thoughts of him in my subconscious while I slept soundly, the next his hands were on me, waking me from slumber, pushing himself inside me.
If those dark, shadowed hours together last night were any indication, Tristan Wright missed me just as much as I missed him, whether he wants to admit it or not.
I’ve managed to save the salary he pays me, and I’ve been careful not to mention money to him again.
Dad’s called me once, but I ignored it. I haven’t mentioned that to Tristan, either.
I’m trying to just enjoy the time I have life living here. But, there’s a very real fear—one I keep shoving to the back of my mind—that this is all going to come to an abrupt end. Sooner than I’m ready for it to. I was hired to be a nanny, but now I feel lost as to what I really am.
“Tristan?” He’s still in my bed, dozing contently between wakefulness and sleep. The kids will be up soon, and he needs to head back to his own bedroom before they do. But, he’s going back on the road in a couple of days, and we need to talk, no matter how scared I am about what his real thoughts are on our situation.
“Hmm?” His eyes flutter but don’t open.
“What’s going to happen if you make it to the playoffs?”
His eyes snap open, startling me, and in a blink of an eye he’s got my arms pinned down, hovering over top of me. He’s got more than the playoffs on his mind, and I can feel the proof pressed against my thigh. The ache of missing him for so many nights returns, and he presses his lips against mine.
“We will win the playoffs,” he murmurs against my mouth.
It would be so easy to just shut up and let him take me again. But I can’t let him distract me. “Then what’s going to happen in April? When I finish up here, I mean. I’m just asking because…because I don’t know what’s going on. You hired me as the nanny, but we’ve been…you know?”
He stills against me, caught off guard by my rambling. Then, a moment later he rolls off me and sits at the edge of the bed. He stays silent long enough that I’m not sure he’s going to respond. Finally, he asks, “What do you want to happen?”
I hate that he answers my question with one of his own, but it’s better than not replying at all.
I should tell him the truth. That my own father told me I won’t have a job to come back to unless I continue to give him money. Tristan’s asked me how Dad’s doing, and I’ve lied to him. Told him everything’s just fine. It’s more comforting than the truth. Besides, he’s got enough on his plate. He doesn’t need my trials and tribulations piled on top of his. “Well, I guess I’m going to try to get into college. See about that scholarship—”
He interrupts me. “I’ll pay for it.”
I laugh, rolling my eyes. “You can’t do that.”
He sits up straighter. “The hell I can’t. If you don’t get the scholarship, then I’ll pay your tuition. Seriously, Faith. I’ve never seen my kids this happy, and I know that’s because of you. You need to go to college. You’re not the shy, quiet girl I first met. You’ve come out of your shell a bit.”
“And that’s because of you.” I give him a cheesy grin.
Hi
s arms wrap around me again, pushing me back down onto the bed.
“Tristan, what about us?”
My heart stops the moment I say the words, and he stops mid movement, too.
His gaze is locked on mine, searching for an answer to a question he hasn’t yet asked. “I want to keep seeing you,” he says softly. “But—”
Here we go, I think to myself. He’s going to let me down as gently as he can, but it’s going to break my heart just the same.
“—there’s a lot of distance between Boston and Arizona. And I don’t know if you’ll still want to be with an old man like me once you get to college.”
I reach out, hugging him to me tightly. “Trust me, I will. I mean, I do.” I chuckle at my own flustered speech. “Besides, you’ve got a lot of energy for an old man. I think you can keep up.”
He arches an amused brow. “Careful, that sounds like a challenge to me.”
“You’ve made me feel things I never thought I would, Tristan. I can’t imagine not seeing where this goes between us.” The words are out of my mouth before I think them through.
Tristan’s stone-like again. No movement, no sound. Which makes me realize maybe I’ve pushed things too far.
I want him to say something. Anything. To reassure me, even a little bit. Instead, he offers me a faint upturn of his lips and moves away from my embrace.
“The kids will be up soon.”
What just happened? Everything has just plummeted into a downward spiral.
I’m waiting for him to say something else, but he’s gone, slipping out of bed. I don’t know whether to laugh or cry, so I crawl out from under the covers, too, pulling my robe on.
No, I refuse to cry in front of him. Maybe later, when I don’t have an audience. The same way I did when my dad gave me an ultimatum.
Men seem to have a way of lifting me up, then crushing me on the way back down.
I won’t let him get to me, I tell myself. But, I’m too late. He has gotten to me, into the deepest depths of me, and it cuts like a damn knife.
Chapter Twenty-One
Tristan
What the fuck is wrong with me?
One minute, things are good—hell, better than good—and the next, I’ve fucked everything up royally. As much as I try to get close to Faith, as much as I want to, something always pulls me back.
I meant what I said to her. I want to keep seeing her. And I know she wants to be with me, too.
At least, she did. Past tense. Over the past couple weeks, I haven’t seen much of her at all. Between traveling for games and the fact that she avoids me at all costs when I am around, she does a pretty good job of not letting me get her alone.
The coach praised me the other day for my team effort. I’d taken Jack’s advice and started to make more of an effort with the team, and it’d made an impact. But all I could do was laugh hollowly at the thought. Right now, I feel like I should be wearing a t-shirt that says Does Not Play Well With Others.
To make matter worse, Faith and I have reverted back to monotonous, clipped texts to update me on the kids each day. My mom fills in the missing pieces. Once, she even asked if I’d had a falling-out with Faith, because it seems like we don’t communicate anymore. Her words, not mine. I lied and told her nothing happened, and everything was just fucking peachy. I don’t want her knowing what went on between us. Hell, I’m not sure I even know what happened. All I do know is that I want it back.
But, I can’t focus on that right now. Not when I’m standing in the locker room, mere moments after we won the playoffs. I should be on a high, not moping in the corner about what I did or didn’t say in a relationship that was never really a relationship at all.
“Fuck!” The curse passes my lips as I slam my locker, making Jack laugh beside me.
“We fucking did it, man.”
I fight the urge to roll my eyes, wanting nothing more than to slap him upside the head for not knowing the difference between Fuck! And Fuck yeah! I’m about to say something when I see my phone screen light up. Someone’s calling. I suck in a breath, seeing Faith’s name on the display.
I could ignore it and pretend I’m celebrating with the guys. It’s the one thing I could get away with right now, and it’d be completely warranted.
But, this fucking cat-and-mouse game we’ve been playing needs to stop. I need to grow a pair and just tell her how I feel. Because I do care about her, even if I have a funny way of showing it.
Emotion and commitment from Tristan Wright—I swear, sometimes it’s like trying to get blood from a stone. The feelings percolate within me, and the words I need to say swirl constantly in my mind, but for them to leave my mouth seems damn near impossible.
What am I scared of? That she’s going to hurt me?
Like I already hurt her?
Jesus. I’m an asshole. I pulled the ‘got to hurt her before she hurts me’ bullshit without even consciously doing it. I haven’t been fair to Faith at all. She’s gone above and beyond for my kids, made them happy again, and put up with more of my shit than anyone should ever have to. And she did it with a grace and politeness I’m not sure anyone else could’ve mustered.
“Faith.”
She’s chuckling in my ear. “We just saw the game. The kids passed out in the living room, but they managed to stay awake long enough to see you win. That last goal was epic. You must be on Cloud Nine right now! It was really something, Tristan. Amazing!”
She’s rambling. And I know her well enough to know she talks endlessly when she’s nervous. “Yeah, it was quite the game. So, I suppose you’ll be getting ready to leave soon.”
Shit, did I just say that? Smooth, asshole.
“What?”
I take a deep breath. “No, wait. That didn’t come out right.” I think about what I need to do next. What I need to say. To hell with the fact that I’m in the dressing room, surrounded by guys who don’t give a rat’s ass about my love life. It’s time to stop fucking around and say what I should’ve said a while ago.
“Faith, I’m coming home soon. Tomorrow, I’ll be there. By your side. Just like I was a few weeks ago.”
Her voice is louder now. “Tristan, I can’t hear you.”
The guys are being rowdy, beginning to chant We Are The Champions. The partying will start immediately, and there’s no way anyone will be in anything that could be mistaken for a sober state within a few hours.
I shout back at her. “I’ll be home soon.”
“Tristan, are you still there?”
It’s no use.
I can’t even reply as one of the guys grabs me, giving me a rough thump on the back to congratulate me on the winning goal. I watch as my phone topples to the ground. Shit.
I want to call her back and tell her that I want her to stay. That I want us to be more than whatever we are at the moment. But, it’s too damn loud here, and I can’t mess this up again.
I’ll be home soon enough. Face to face, I’ll beg her to forgive me. She knows about my past and my reasons for not having been with anyone else since Hayley’s death. She knows, and gave herself to me anyway. I didn’t deserve her then, and I don’t deserve her now.
But, that doesn’t make me want her any less.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Tristan
It’s late. Faith’s probably already asleep, thinking she’s resting up to head back to Boston in the morning. But she won’t be leaving, or sleeping for much longer, if I have anything to say about it.
I called my mom ahead of time and arranged for Darcy and Ferguson to stay with her tonight. She didn’t ask too many questions, which surprised me. But the moment I told her to tell Faith I wanted the kids there instead of home, with no other real reason given, I think my mom had a clue what was going on. She’s a mom; she’s probably known how I feel about Faith longer than I’ve known how I feel. She’s just that damn good.
I can only imagine the tears and conversations and promises that went down when Faith dropped them off. T
he kids are undoubtedly crushed, thinking they’re never going to see their beloved nanny again. Hell, Faith probably isn’t dealing with it that well, either. But I didn’t call my mom again to see how it all went. Chalk it up to being a chicken shit, but I just couldn’t bear it. I’ve got enough damn emotions churning inside me right now, and hearing about the kids’ meltdowns would only make things worse.
I sneak in through the front door, press a couple buttons on the alarm system keypad to keep it from blaring, and then drop my duffle bag onto the floor before locking the door behind me.
The house is silent as a tomb, and dark as night.
I make my way down the hallway. Faith’s bedroom door is partway open, and I can see her form under the covers.
If I’m supposed to feel guilty for waking her, I don’t. Some things take precedence over manners. “Faith?” I whisper.
She turns over, pulling herself up into a sitting position. There’s no fucking way she was asleep. When she reaches over and turns on the bedside lamp, casting dim light throughout the room, the wide, alert eyes that stare back at me confirm how awake she actually is.
“You’re home,” she says.
“And you’re beautiful.” In an instant, I’ve crossed the floor and dove toward her, crashing my mouth onto hers.
If she’s offended or upset, she doesn’t show it, kissing me back with all the pent-up desire accumulated during the weeks I’ve been gone. Skype’s great, but it doesn’t fucking compare to having my hands on her flesh and my tongue in her mouth.
We’re all hands and fingers and a flurry of desperate tugging to remove the barriers between us. I undress her, and she lets me, but I also kiss her roughly, nipping at her to mark her as my own as we fumble our way beneath the sheets.
“Oh, Tristan...”
I can’t control myself, and hearing my name so pleadingly and seductive on her lips nearly undoes me right then and there. The small whimpers and moans that come from her mouth as I hover over her, kissing the tender skin of her breasts and stomach and hips, only encourages me. I push her thighs apart, ducking my head just long enough to run my tongue along the sensitive skin of her inner thigh.
Puck Daddy: A Bad Boy Hockey Romance Page 9