by Zoë Lane
“Easy, Sean,” Bat said in a low voice.
I didn’t care. I was tired of hearing him and seeing his face. Our teams had been rivals in college, and he had accused me of cheating to win a game. So feet get tangled up when you run and players fall down. And receivers drop balls.
It happens.
Bat slapped me on the back before heading to the showers. I took my time removing my uniform in case Landyn wanted to come at me again. I wanted to be here for that. Put him down.
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Casper holding Landyn’s arm with his good hand, steering him past my row to their own. The guy was still out due to his injury, and then he’d be out another couple of weeks for doping. At least he had the sense to check his friend.
The two of them deserved each other.
4
LACEY
Trash.
It’s fitting that I’m assigned janitorial duties when the entire country thinks I’m trash.
Thanks to my father.
Landyn said he treated me like trash our entire childhood. Except I can’t really remember some things he said our father did. The beatings…those memories escape me.
If they ever happened.
“Are you daydreaming? You’ve got thousands of hours to get through, and if you want me to give your probation worker a good report, then you’ll have to do a good job.”
My face began to contort into my most vicious scowl, but I stopped it just in time. That wouldn’t help. “No, Desmond, I’m not daydreaming. I’m just getting my cart ready.” I shoved another box of trash bags into a compartment while my boss frowned, with his hands on hefty hips.
As if plotting against me, my mouth opened wide in the longest yawn I’ve had in a while.
“Not getting enough sleep?” Desmond chuckled. He came forward and took a slow stroll around my cart, inspecting it.
“I am,” I said, fiddling with some rolls of toilet paper, acting like I hadn’t finished in case he found something missing. I thought I had everything, but there was just so much stuff on here, it was overwhelming. I had a newfound respect for hotel cleaning ladies.
“Looks good, Lacey, looks good. Second day and you’re coming along.”
His radio crackled. Someone on the other line said they’d forgotten to grab the trash out of the men’s locker room and if anyone was on that floor, could they snag it.
Then another voice called for Desmond to get to the third floor immediately.
Desmond looked at me. “I’d like you to go get the trash from the men’s locker room before any of the players arrive.”
“But that’s the men’s locker room.”
“It’s four in the morning. They first ones don’t usually get here until five. Be quick about it.”
As he turned away, my eyes went to the ceiling. I snatched my Rhinos cap from my utility belt and shoved it low to just above my eyes. This is not protocol. Especially coming from Desmond, a guy so big into rules he had given me a pop quiz every hour my first day on shift. How hard was it to push around a cart full of supplies and replenish stuff?
An art form, if you asked Desmond.
One of this franchise’s core values was excellence. In all you do, excellence. It was what attracted me to work here. It didn’t matter who you were or what job you were doing. We all had a part to play, and we must do it with excellence.
Desmond’s words rang loudly in my ears as I entered the men’s locker room. If it were anything like the women’s, there were probably a dozen or more trash cans in here. Which one hadn’t gotten emptied? I’d have to check every trash can!
The first five were empty. That only meant another half dozen or more to go.
Trash.
My father had made everyone think I was a prostitute: the one profession everyone thought was trash. Prostitutes transmitted diseases, had no self-worth—because why would they sell their bodies if they did?—and whenever any one of them went missing, not even the police gave a damn. Every one of them was someone’s daughter.
Like me.
I’m Carter Gallagher’s daughter.
Why can’t I stop thinking that?
Why can’t I be like my brother and completely redefine who and what I am? Not forget what happened, but not let it define me. He’s so healthy. I’m the one who’s screwed up.
Which is why I’d nearly drunk myself to death the other month.
My therapist said it would be good for me to ponder these questions. All day I would be thinking about them until they gave me a headache. I let out a heavy breath and kept moving around the room. I rounded a corner of lockers and stopped dead in my tracks.
Sean Miller.
Half-naked.
He casually covered the last bit of exposed upper thigh, securing the white towel low over his hips. My gaze went from his hips to the trail of hair winding down past his belly button and back to the edge of the towel.
“Lacey?”
Shit. I hadn’t looked above his ripped stomach.
Shit. How did he know it was me?
I slowly raised my eyes up to meet his. “Hi, Sean,” I said so softly I don’t even think I actually heard myself.
His dark brows came together. “What are you doing?” Then his brows relaxed and an easy smile spread his thick full lips.
I never had gotten to kiss them that night. It was a goal of mine, after giving him a lap dance that would’ve made him do whatever the hell I wanted.
Holy crap. I remember that night.
Maybe I should’ve died, ’cause I was feeling way more exposed than he was looking.
My eyes darted back to the towel to catch the slightest imprint.
What the hell was wrong with me?
“Lacey?”
I cleared my throat and looked around for a trash can. “I’m…um, emptying the trash.”
“You work here?”
I nodded.
He came forward, and I took a step back. He stopped. “I was just going to ask how you’re doing?” he said with a concerned look. “I haven’t seen you since…” His expression darkened briefly before sadness settled in his eyes.
“Yeah…I…got community service for…the underage drinking and fake ID.”
He nodded. “Good. Maybe the judge will erase it from your record or something when you’re finished.”
“Maybe,” I said with a shrug. “Not sure.” I still looked for the trash can. It was better than looking at his groin, or his abs, or into his amber eyes—but not really.
He slowly closed the distance between us. My feet rooted to the floor as my gaze tethered to his. The color of his eyes seemed to change to gold the longer I stared. So much better than looking for a trash can.
“How are you…really? Feeling, I mean. I had heard you were in…a facility.”
“Well, I’m out now, so…”
In three feet, my body would be plastered against his abs.
Three feet.
Don’t stop. Keep coming. Shit, I sounded like I was having sex or something, and I was only looking into his eyes.
“I’m glad to hear you’re okay. I was…was afraid for you that night.”
I blushed. “Yeah…sorry about that lap dance.” No, I wasn’t.
A deep chuckle sent goose bumps rippling across my arms. “I’m not. And I don’t care what Landyn thinks about it.”
My brother! I came the last three feet, my fingers touching the wide bridge of his nose. “Your nose! Sean, I’m so sorry. Is it okay?”
He laughed, catching my hand and gently pulling it away. “It’s fine. He doesn’t punch that hard. He’s a quarterback. Can’t break his hand or he’d be out of a job.”
True. I smiled.
He still held my hand.
“Well, I’m sorry. I was a little drunk that night.”
His lips curved up to one side and the opposite brow to the other. “A little?”
I rolled my eyes. “Okay, a lot drunk.”
“Mmm-hmm.”
I snatched my hand back. “Either way, he didn’t have a right to hit you.”
His head went to one side, and his shoulders went up. “Well…if I had a sister, and I saw her giving a lap dance to a guy I hated—”
“He doesn’t hate you!”
He crossed his arms, denying me access to his abs. Why didn’t I think to trip and fall into them?
“Lacey, the guy hates me. It’s okay, the feeling’smutual.”
I grimaced.
“But that doesn’t mean I wouldn’t…you know…” His brows wagged.
My neck burned.
He sighed and took about five steps back. “Except I’m not going to risk it. Trying to do what the coach told us and get along.”
“I don’t have to do what my brother says,” I rushed to say, remembering how he’d dragged me off Sean’s lap. Crap. That’s the memory I remembered, and not all the beatings Landyn said my dad had given. Those were the memories I needed to face if I wanted to heal completely—according to my therapist.
Sean smiled. “Good. I’m glad.”
I smiled back. “Well, um, I have to find that trash before my boss comes in here after me. He said no one’s ever in this early.”
“Yeah, I wanted to work out alone. I can hear myself think.”
I wondered what he thought about, but I didn’t have time to ask. “Well, okay. I’ll see you, Sean.” I gave a short wave and turned around, immediately regretting the sight of lockers instead of him.
“I’ll make sure of it.”
5
LACEY
“I thought you were over this,” Landyn said in an annoyed tone. “Carmencita!” He poked his head into the kitchen while I settled myself on the den couch. “I never know when she’s here,” he grumbled.
Not at all true. He had been mad the whole way back from our first therapy session.
“Well, I’m not over it,” I said. I picked up the remote and turned on the television. I could feel another classic Landyn lecture coming on, and frankly, I didn’t want to hear it.
And my bedroom was too far away for me to walk and lock myself inside. Standing on your feet all day and bending over half the time to pick stuff up was really taxing on the body. Then I’d skipped dinner at the HQ cafeteria so I wouldn’t be late to therapy.
If anyone had the right to be pissed, it was me.
“Can we order something? I’m starving.”
“I thought Carmencita was going to make us something.”
“Well, you can’t find her and I don’t smell any dinner.” I opened my phone to find an app that I could order food on and have it delivered. “Your maid is slacking on the job. Maybe you should fire her,” I added.
“How ’bout you learn how to cook?”
“If that’s not misogynistic…”
“Goes well with your entitlement.”
I stuck my tongue out at him. “I’m not entitled. According to our therapist, I’m damaged,” I said with a lift of my chin, proudly wearing my emotional baggage like a badge of honor.
Landyn sat on the opposite end of the couch—much like at therapy—and grimaced. “You’re not damaged.”
I raised my brows. “Really? What do you call my blackout from overdrinking?”
“A one-time, serious lapse in judgment. We’re all allowed to have at least one of those in our lives.”
“Gee, thanks for the permission.”
He stared pointedly at me before jabbing a finger in the air in my direction. “And you’ve used yours up.”
“You know, you remind me of our father when you do that,” I sneered. He didn’t, really. I mean, most of my memories of my dad were of him passed out drunk on the couch.
I watched the frustration melt from his face, dragging down his entire expression, until he looked like I had just killed his best friend.
I looked away.
I didn’t mean it. I was just tired of being reminded of what a screwup I was. School, the judge, my father, the therapist, Landyn…
The backs of my eyes stung, and I blinked rapidly. I wouldn’t cry. Last time I’d cried was when I had seen my father on television calling me a prostitute. Why did he say that?
“I just don’t understand you, Lace. Why…why do you want a relationship with that man?”
“Because I want to know,” I whispered.
“Know what? Whatever it is, I’ll tell you.”
I shook my head. “No. I want to know why he said the things he said about us. I want to know why he left me in that courtroom that day when the Talismans won custody of me. I want to know…”
He looked at me like I’d grown three heads. “You want to know why he left the courtroom? That was years ago!”
“I still have a right to know!”
He opened his mouth and then shut it quickly. He dropped his head and furiously rubbed it with one hand. After a few more seconds, he stopped and let out a breath.
His head came up and his blue eyes had gone gray. “Lace, I don’t know what to say to that. Are you not on my side?”
“Ugh! It’s not about sides, Landyn!” I launched from the couch and began pacing in front of the television. “It’s about trying to figure out why I can barely remember anything before I was like…ten or whatever. All this shit you said our dad did…” I stopped pacing threw my arms over my head, gripping my hair on my neck. I dropped my arms and then my head fell back. “I just want to know why I’m fucked up. Is that too much to ask?”
He watched me with uncertainty. “Can you be on my side?” I asked him.
He came to me, gripped my shoulders, and placed a kiss on my forehead.
That…the kiss on the forehead. That I remembered. In the darkness—I didn’t know where—but he always gave me a kiss.
“I’m your big brother.” He smirked. “It’s kinda my job to be on your side.”
“I don’t want you to feel obligated,” I said, my voice full of emotion.
I. Will. Not. Cry.
“Pfft.” He drew me into his arms. Another kiss on the forehead. “I love you. It’s no obligation.”
I hugged him back. I couldn’t exactly speak, or I’d lose it and cry all over his designer shirt. Only Rose was allowed to mess up his clothes.
Weird.
The doorbell rang, and Landyn released me. “That better be Carmencita with dinner.”
I snorted. “Considering we didn’t grow up rich, you sound like a complete snob. That’s probably the Mexican food I ordered.”
“We’re rich now,” he said over his shoulder as he headed toward the door.
I smiled. It wasn’t exactly true. He was rich.
I was freeloading.
Trash.
Ugh!
When he didn’t return a few minutes later or call me into the kitchen, I went hunting for him. I walked into the foyer and rolled my eyes. He had Rose pressed against the door, one leg over his, grinding into her while mauling her face. Her moans progressively rose in volume, and my stomach became increasingly more nauseous.
I loudly cleared my throat. Rose’s eyes opened wide, and she tried—in vain—to shove Landyn back, who clearly didn’t mind getting caught half-sexing his girlfriend into the front door.
“I guess that’s not dinner,” I said.
Landyn sent a narrowed look over his shoulder. “Obviously,” he said dryly.
“Will you answer the door when it comes?”
He sighed as if annoyed. I smiled back.
“I came here to tell you something I thought you shouldn’t hear over the phone,” Rose said softly when I had stepped into the hallway.
I halted and angled my head back.
“Is it about our mother?” Landyn answered equally quietly.
Silence.
“Good or bad?” he asked.
“Guess that depends on your perspective.”
“What do you mean?”
“She’s completely off the grid.”
“Off the grid? You mean you can’t find her
?”
“I mean it’s like she disappeared off the face of the earth when you last saw her.”
Silence.
“I don’t want to alarm you,” Rose continued, “but…Landyn, given what you’ve told me about your father, and since we can’t find a single trace of her… I don’t think she left on her own, Landyn. If she left at all.”
“What do you mean, ‘if she left at all’?” he said forcefully.
“Based on our investigator’s advice—now he’s well trained, many years as a homicide and cold case detective—he’s recommending you go to the police and have them review your mother’s missing persons file and…”
“You think she’s dead,” he said flatly.
Breath siphoned from my lungs so fast I heard my gasp. I slapped my hands over my mouth, but it was too late. I heard Landyn’s heavy footsteps growing louder the closer they came.
“Spy,” he said.
I stared into his veiled blue eyes and then looked at Rose’s dull brown ones, which were at least sympathetic. “Repeat what you just said,” I ordered her.
“Lace—”
“Don’t call me that,” I snapped. “That’s my brother’s name for me.”
She visibly swallowed.
“Lacey, apologize!” Landyn thundered.
“Don’t speak to me like I’m a child,” I roared back.
“Then quit acting like one.”
“I have a right to know what happened to our mother!”
“You don’t have a right to be rude,” came his quick retort.
Rose put a hand on his arm. “Landyn, it’s okay. Lacey”—she emphasized my name—“the investigator my firm hired to look into your mother’s…to look for your mother, believes that she didn’t leave on her own. She either might’ve had help, or…”
“Or someone killed her,” I finished for her. My gaze snapped back to my brother.
“Lacey, I was like six!”
“Of course I don’t mean you!” I whirled and ran back to the den. The doorbell rang. The thought of cheesy tacos in my stomach made me want to hurl.
“Lacey—”
“How come you wanted to tell Landyn and not me?” I accused her.