10
Gia
I exhale slowly, trying my best to regain my composure.
Wyatt is dragging this tour out, and no matter how much I try to persuade him to sign the damn papers, he comes up with another reason to stall. We’ve walked the grounds now at least three times, making two of the trips outside into the cold, across the snow filled lawn and then back into the ballroom before running through everything once again. It’s obvious that he’s stalling for a reason.
“You should really try this scotch, Princess. It’s the good stuff.”
When he ran out of reasons to walk the grounds again, he decided that the only way to truly make a decision was to enjoy a nice scotch inside of the restaurant bar. Of course, it’s not open to the public yet, so we’re literally the only two people here. The owner, Mr. Hamlin seems all too eager to jump to any one of Wyatt’s commands, leading us to the bar and pouring three fingers full without missing a beat. I understand where he’s coming from. There was a time in my life where his charisma made me do the exact same thing. I used to jump at all of his commands, too. Not that any of it mattered. In the end, he still left me.
My heart does a nosedive off of a cliff when his eyes turn in my direction, a soft grunt leaving his lips as he looks me up and down. The sound is reminiscent of crisp fall nights, hot, slow kisses and heartbreak. I immediately shift my eyes away from him, even though they cry out to stare at him longer.
In a tight long-sleeved black Henley shirt that clings to his broad chest and tapered Khaki pants molded to his thick leg muscles, he looks magnificent per usual. Curse him and his hotness.
“So.” He leans back on his barstool, his eyes raking over me like hot coals. “You married him, huh?”
I stare at him at little too long, until I snap out of it. “I’m not doing this with you, Wyatt. I’ll answer any questions that you have regarding the wedding, but digging up the past is something that I’m not willing to do.”
The silence builds between us, and he watches me intently. He looks as though he’s trying to figure me out. Good luck with that, buddy. I’m still struggling to figure my own self out these days. He starts at my hair and then works his way down to my feet. Every inch of my skin that he covers with his eyes burns underneath his stare. Just when I think that I might combust from the intensity of his eyes, he looks away.
“I was just making conversation, Gia. I wasn’t trying to dig up the past. Plus, it wasn’t a fair question. I already know the answer. I always knew that guy would win in the end. That’s why I didn’t let it happen.”
“Didn’t let it happen?” Everything that I wanted to say the other night rushes out in the next instant, taking me by complete surprise. One moment, I’m telling him that I’m not willing to bring up our history and the next, I’m spouting off all of the things that I never got to say.
“It was never even a competition, Wyatt. Of all people, you should know that. After all, you were the one who made the decision to ruin me in front of the entire fucking school.”
His jaw clenches, and he frowns, his brow furrowing. “I didn’t plan on things to go down like that. Doing it in front of the school wasn’t my intention.”
“No?” My eyes are narrowed. “How did you intend to break up with me? Over candlelight? By serenade? A simple text would have sufficed.”
“I don’t fucking know, Princess.” His teeth grind as he slams his glass of scotch down. “Things were complicated back then. I was moving to Florida. You were going to New York with him. It had to happen, one way or another…”
“You’re right,” I snap back. “And thank god it did. I know how much being married to Cole sucked. I can only imagine how it would have worked out with someone like you.”
“Different.” He’s on his feet, eyes narrowed at mine and leaning towards me, chest heaving. The sheer size of him should intimidate me, but I’m not the least bit afraid. Pissed off, hell yes. But never fearful of the man. “Because I can fucking guarantee you that if you had my ring on your finger, and were sleeping in my bed every night, you wouldn’t have been out sleeping around!”
Fuck this.
Mr. Hamlin picks that exact moment to peak his head back into the bar.
“Everything ok in here, folks? I heard some yelling.” I say no at the same time that Wyatt says yes. The man pauses in the doorway, I can feel his eyes on me. I inhale sharply and pull myself together as best as I can and turn to face him. “Sorry for the shouting, Mr. Hamlin. We were just in a heated debate over the best boy band of all time. I strongly believe it to be the Backstreet Boys. Wyatt here has a hard on for NSYNC.”
“Oh. Well, alright. I’ll be in my office if you two should need me.”
“The only thing I should need to make this decision is another scotch, kind sir.” Wyatt tips his glass back, gulping the amber liquid down before sliding it across the table. “In fact, if you want to just leave the bottle out, that’d be great. A few more drinks and I should be ready to make my decision.”
The man complies, while I just continue to glare at him.
“Your sister already made the decision. All that you’re doing is dragging your feet and making me suffer.” My words are sharp, layered with bitterness.
“I’m just trying to make the right decision, Princess.” He shrugs, plopping back onto the barstool.
“I’m not your Princess.”
“Never were.”
“Thanks for the reminder,” I say quietly, my anger folding away piece by piece and slipping back into the darkness where I store it, until it becomes overwhelming and I have to find a constructive way to burn it off.
He closes his eyes and scrubs his face with his talented hands, the ones that can catch any throw launched in his direction. He may be an asshole, but he’s one hell of a football player. He always has been. I’ve never met anyone more devoted to a sport than Wyatt is to football.
“I don’t want to fight with you, Gia,” he mutters, sighing hard and letting his eyes snap back up to mine. “In fact, it’s the last fucking thing that I want to do. I’m sorry for bringing that shit back up.”
“It’s fine.” I wave him off, even though nothing about it is ok. His words have stirred up emotions inside of me that were better off forgotten. Now they’re back, and I have no idea how in the hell I’m going to manage working closely with him for the next three months. It’s one hell of a recipe for disaster. “I don’t want to fight with you either. The way that I’m acting is unprofessional. I’m sorry for that.”
“Don’t fucking apologize to me.” His lips flatten. “I’m the one that’s being a dick. What I meant to say, is that it’s nice to see you.”
I don’t respond, because while I want to be tolerant of him, I’m a shitty liar. It isn’t nice to see him and frankly, I’m less than impressed that after taking a year off, my very first client is Wyatt Anderson. It’s yet another cruel twist of fate.
“What were you doing at Chamberlin anyways?” I lower myself into one of the barstools and stare over at him. “Illegitimate child or something?”
“Funny.” He smirks. “And no, I don’t have any kids, illegitimate or recognized. My buddy Damien goes to Chamberlin. He’s seven and in the first grade. His mom had to work so she couldn’t go to the auction. Since a parent had to attend, I went in her place.”
“Damien Smith?” My brows raise as he nods. I know the little boy. He’s been in my daughter Delilah’s class since preschool. Super sweet kid, very kind mother. His father was an Army Sergeant killed in Afghanistan the summer before the kids started kindergarten.
Curiosity overtakes me, wondering how Wyatt plays into all of this. Shannon is beautiful, but she’s a far cry from Wyatt’s type, so I have a hard time imagining him stepping into some kind of mom’s hookup slash father figure role.
You’re a far cry from his type, too.
I shush the voice in my head. There’s no point in acknowledging that Wyatt only dates big boobed blonds.
&nb
sp; “Before you even say it, no I am not sleeping with Damien’s mom.” His eyes level with mine. “Damien’s just my buddy. His dad was a fan of mine. Wrote me a few letters, wanted to meet me, stuff like that. I didn’t get to them in time-he was already killed in action. So, I figured out a way to meet his family, and became real good friends with his kid.”
It’s fucking sweet and tugs at my heart strings more than it should. In order to keep my current level of defense up against the guy, I shrug and roll my eyes, flipping my hair over my shoulder and trying my best to look unfazed.
“Yikes. You know it’s sad when only seven-year-old boys will be your friend.”
“Har har.” He tips back his scotch and drains it before hopping to his feet. “Alright, Gia. I’m ready to sign. I’ve decided that the Hamlin Hotel will be the perfect spot for Willow’s wedding.”
“Well, thank god.” I rise and brush my hands along my clothes, straightening them out. “Your sister decided that hours ago.”
11
Gia
When my life crashed around me, I was left with two options. Boss up and handle it in a constructive way, or let it ruin me. People in my position either find a way to burn off their rage, or they let their emotions swallow them whole. Some of them turn to booze, some to other self-destructive methods.
I dabble in drinking here and there, but that hasn’t become my vice. Instead, I became a gym rat.
My best friend, Serena, introduced me to spin class, and after just one, I was hooked as quickly as a junkie is to crack. Working out became my drug, my way to clear my head and hit reset. The only thing keeping my toes on the right side of the law. Some days I find it harder than others to keep myself from losing control, and on those days in particular, I spend a lot of time at the gym.
Today is one of those days.
“Gia.” Judy, my spin instructor blinks in my direction, her concern barely held at bay. “You can’t be serious.” I stretch my neck from side to side, wipe the sweat off of my brow and twist my sweat soaked hair tighter into a bun.
“I need more.”
A knowing look flashes in her eyes. Judy knows my story. I’ve only spoken of it to two people outside of my ex. Serena and Judy are the only ones who know the truth about what happened to me. Judy lifts her chin in my direction.
“Fine. But you had better drink your water tonight, girl. Rhabdo is a real thing, Gia. And too often lately, you’re dancing really close to the line between healthy and dangerous.”
This isn’t the first time this week that I’ve hit the gym extra hard, and if today was any indication of how the next three months will go, I imagine that I’ll be here, doing exactly this, more often than normal.
I can deal with my divorce from Cole. I’ve learned to deal with our one week on, one week off custody arrangement. I can tolerate the mumbled words strewn at me by Chamberlin Academies finest. What I can’t handle, apparently, is Wyatt abruptly strutting back into my life. What happened between us needed to stay in the past. Our history book was written, shoved on a library shelf and then the building housing it doused in flames. It’s gone, it’s over, and it should never be spoken of again.
It’s been nine years, after all. A lot of things have happened in that time frame, and everything has changed. At least, that’s what I thought. Seeing his face again has proven that idea to be false.
My legs power through the next class, my body pushing hard to remove the last bit of anger floating around in my body. The hatred that normally fuels me wafts out of my veins, and even though I’ve been at this for hours now, my body still manages to complete the entire forty-five-minute workout.
“Please, tell me that you’re done.” Judy tosses me a fresh towel. “You’ve got that damn glimmer in your eyes, making me think that you’re going to try to hit up another class.”
I give her an air hug, since nobody in their right mind would want a hug from me in my current state. “That glimmer just means I’m back for a minute.” I beam at her, finally feeling like myself again. “It’ll be short-lived. Someone will try to fuck me over soon and then I’ll be back, to burn off my new rage.”
Judy watches the last of the students leave the class, and once we’re alone, she turns back to me. “I just hope that someone tries to fuck you, Gia, and that you accept. Take it from me, that’s what you need.”
I throw my bag over my shoulder and head towards the door.
“Sounds complicated.” I shrug her off, heading out into the night just as dusk sets in. But an unwelcome emotion bubbles just underneath the surface. That all too familiar ache for one man in particular starts to build again, and Judy’s advice doesn’t seem so bad after all.
12
Wyatt
“Did you see me break that kid’s ankles?” I’ve heard the term used in basketball a million times. Growing up, that was actually my favorite sport to play. As it turns out though, I just happened to be better at football. The first time I heard that question leave Damien’s mouth, however, I thought that he meant he actually tripped a kid and caused him to break bones. Soccer isn’t a sport that I know much about. But after watching a few of this kid’s games, now I understand his lingo. He moved the ball past the defender, sending a pass to his teammate who scored.
“Yeah, man. It was awesome.” Damien beams. His smile is one of my favorite things about the him. It’s so big that it fills up over half of his face.
“You had some sweet shots on goal, too.” He nods and smiles again, which is a huge step in the right direction. The kid reminds me a lot of myself when I was his age. Critical as fuck on himself and ready to pick apart his every play on the grass. I used to be the same way, until finally, I realized that there were plenty of people in the world ready to be my biggest critic. One more wasn’t necessary. I’ve been working on teaching that to Damien. When he repeats shit like this, it lets me know that he’s listening.
He slings his bag over his shoulder, and we begin our trek back to the parking lot. Shannon needed to stick around the diner today and keep an eye on her grandparents, so I offered to take Damien for the day.
It’s not unusual for me to come and watch his soccer games, but this day is a bit different. He’s with me for most of the day and as it turns out, the kids got a bigger social life than I do. I have to not only bring him to two birthday parties today, but I also have to sit through them. Turns out, that’s really a thing.
The soccer complex that Damien plays at is enormous. There are almost twenty fields in this place, and only one parking lot. It just so happens to be on the opposite end from the field where his game was played. Needless to say, we have one hell of a walk to the car.
As we walk past the crowded fields, more than a few heads turn in our direction. I have a baseball hat on my head and sunglasses, but even with a disguise on, people still tend to notice me. I grab onto his hand as we move quickly passed the groups of parents huddled around, watching the games. While most days I welcome the attention from any fans that I see out and about in the world, I don’t like the attention cast on me when I’m with this guy. This is a part of my life that I prefer to keep private, for obvious reasons. Having my seven-year-old little buddy’s picture flashed all over the internet is hardly safe.
“Talk to me about this party.”
He blinks up at me, looking confused.
“Didn’t my mom give you the invitations?”
“Yeah, she did, but I’m talking about me sitting there with you. What do you expect out of me? You want me to hang next to you? Or keep my distance?”
He blinks up at me as if I’ve grown another head. Alright. Option number two, it is.
We trudge past the last of the two fields, nearly out of the cluster of kids and families, but when my eyes lift up, scanning the parking lot to find my car, they immediately stop.
To be honest, I’m not sure how I even recognize her. With a baseball hat pulled down onto her head, shades on her face, and her back to me, she looks similar to m
ost of the women here. But it’s something about the way that she’s standing that strikes a chord with me. It tugs at all of the visions in my memory bank.
When I played football for Camden, there weren’t a lot of people in the stands cheering for me. Willow showed up a lot wearing my jersey, but she was about it. At least, until Gia started sporting my number, too. She’d stand there, on the sidelines, in the same position that she is right now. Watching the game intently, her feet moving in place as if her movements would somehow help run the ball, hands fisted at her sides anxiously. That’s how I manage to pick her out of the crowd, the same way that I used to in a packed stadium or hidden behind a group of football players. I used to be able to spot that girl anywhere. As it turns out, some things never change. I stop moving, causing Damien to run into the back of me.
“Sorry, man.” I grab a hold of his arm, steadying him before he falls. I glance between Gia and the safety of my car. It’s not even a fair choice.
“Here.” I shove ten dollars into Damien’s hand and point to the concession stand. “Run over and get whatever you want. It’ll be our secret, alright?” His mom is a freak about too much sugar, so his eyes immediately light up. “Don’t talk to strangers and come directly back to me when you’re done. Understand?”
He’s gone with a single nod of his head. I take a few steps towards the soccer field, just as a tiny human with brown pigtails kicks the ball hard into the goal, just as the whistle blows. Gia screams and jumps up and down, clapping excitedly as the little girl on the field does the same.
“Reliving your glory days?”
Her head snaps in my direction, eyes widening even behind her sunglasses.
“Wyatt? What are you doing here?”
“Eh.” I shrug. “Learning a new sport. I’m thinking about quitting football and giving soccer a go.” I’m full of shit, and she knows it. Her icy demeanor immediately fades as she laughs. Back in high school, Gia was one hell of a soccer player. Like me, she had offers rolling in to play in college, but she tore her ACL two weeks before the state championship game, and the scouts lost all of their interest in her. A tough blow for sure, but in her usual fashion, she took it in stride, not willing to let it get her down. Back then, all that she talked about healing herself and then getting right back to playing. I wonder if that actually happened.
Hard Pass (Saints of Love Book 3) Page 6