Addy spun in a small circle then turned to me with a small smile. "Interesting floor plan. I always wondered what it looked like inside."
"I think each apartment is a little different." At least, that's what Dylan had told me and he would know better than I would. "Did you guys want something?"
"We came to kidnap you for the weekend."
"Excuse me?"
"Not literally, of course." Addy laughed and I wondered if I looked as surprised as I sounded. Probably. "We just thought you might want some company since the team is on the road this weekend."
"Oh. Well, thanks, but I'll pass."
"You haven't even heard what we had planned."
"I think Morgan already has plans of her own, Adelaide." Jacqui nodded toward my bag then looked at me. "Or am I wrong about that?"
I thought about not answering—or even telling a little white lie—then decided I didn't care if they knew or not. "I was heading for the bus station."
"You're leaving?"
"Trying to."
"But why?"
"Because it's time for me to leave." I grabbed my bag then placed one hand on the knob, ready to open the door and show them both out.
"Does Dylan know?"
I narrowed my eyes in Addy's direction then let my gaze slide away. The irritation I'd felt at her question quickly evaporated under the genuine surprise I saw in her dark eyes. "We only agreed on me staying for a week."
No, it didn't really answer her question but it should be good enough. At least, I thought so until Jacqui stepped closer to the refrigerator and studied the note I'd left. She turned back to me, her expression both cautious and sympathetic.
Once again, I was struck with the impression that the woman didn't miss much, that she could see beyond any walls or shields anyone might put up. I also had a feeling that she'd seen a lot in her life—and not all of it good. She had secrets, some I could guess at, some would be a mystery forever unless she felt like sharing them.
I was pretty sure that Jacqui didn't share a whole hell of a lot with anyone, not even Addy.
Maybe that was what allowed her to see things people didn't want anyone to see. Or maybe it was just a basic shrewdness that had been honed and perfected over her lifetime. Why didn't matter, not when it was pretty obvious she knew I was lying.
I had a feeling she knew why, as well.
She leaned one hip against the counter and studied me for a long minute. Then she smiled, showing perfect white teeth framed by dark lipstick. "The bus station can be a dangerous place to hang out, cher."
"I'm sure I can manage."
"Something tells me you probably could. But do you really want to wait there until Monday?"
"Monday?"
"You said you were going to California. Is that still your plan?"
"Yes."
"Then yes, Monday. Didn't you bother to look at the schedule online, cher?"
"I—" I pursed my lips then finally shook my head. "No, I just assumed—"
"A dangerous thing, to be sure. No self-respecting woman should just take off without a solid plan." Her clear gaze traveled from the top of my head to the tips of my bare toes peeking out of my flipflops. She sighed and rolled her eyes, then waved one finger through the air. "Or a decent haircut and a mani-pedi. Not to mention a pair of shoes that aren't quite so pathetic."
"What's wrong with my hair? And my shoes?"
"Those aren't shoes, cher, they're flipflops. And hideous ones at that." She pushed away from the counter then clapped her hands together twice, like she was summoning a shoe fairy or something. "Now put the bag down and come with us. It's time for some pampering, followed by a little shopping therapy."
Pampering? Shopping therapy? No way. Even if I wanted to go—and I didn't because that so wasn't me—I couldn't. I only had six hundred dollars, safely tucked away in my small bag, and there was no way I could afford to part with any of it over something so frivolous.
I shook my head and stepped back until my ass collided with the closed door. "I don't think—"
"Probably a wise thing."
I frowned then turned toward Addy, hoping to find an ally in her. My hopes were quickly dashed when I saw the sparkle of excitement in her eyes. Any chance of those hopes surviving died a quick death when she stepped toward me and eased the bag from my hand.
"It'll be fun. We can make it a girls' weekend with just the three of us, spoiling ourselves silly."
I shook my head, more determined than ever to have my way. "I don't have the money for anything like that."
"You don't need it."
I started to ask why, wanted to argue and tell both women I didn't want or need their charity. Standing up to the two of them was like facing the force of a tsunami with nothing more than a paper straw: impossible. Before I could even think about uttering another objection, my bag had been unpacked and I was being led from Dylan's apartment.
And I couldn't help but wonder why I didn't put up more of a fight.
Chapter Twelve
Dylan
"You were right, she was getting ready to run."
"Dammit." I slumped against the bench, my skates forgotten as Nathan's words sunk in. Heavy disappointment washed over me, followed by an irrational rage that didn't make any sense.
Why?
That was the question that kept running through my mind.
Why?
Why did she want to leave?
Why did I want her to stay?
I didn't have answers for either of those questions, or the hundred other ones floating through my mind. My strong reaction to Nathan's confirmation didn't make sense. Hell, nothing made sense.
I barely knew Morgan—though I had managed to learn her last name. Raymond. Morgan Raymond. But knowing her last name didn't mean I knew anything else about her. And it sure as hell wasn't a sign that there was anything between us. Compared to Nathan, I was three weeks ahead of the game considering he'd been with Addy for at least that long before learning who she was.
That still didn't mean shit. So I knew her last name. Big deal. That was all I knew.
Except it wasn't.
I knew she wasn't a big drinker. She preferred the left side of the bed. She made tiny little sounds of contentment when she slept, almost like little sighs of appreciation when she curled against me.
I knew she hated having her feet covered when she slept and she preferred her eggs scrambled instead of fried. She liked coffee but only with a ton of cream and sugar in it—real sugar, not that fake stuff.
I knew she'd had an unconventional childhood, one that sent equal parts of sympathy and anger shooting through me. I also knew that she wanted no parts of either, choosing instead to focus on today and tomorrow instead of crying about yesterday.
I knew she was adamant about making it on her own and living her own life, yet she'd been willing to marry some guy just to help him out.
And I also knew that she'd have no problems cutting her losses and running if she thought things were getting too complicated.
It was that certainty that had been gnawing at me ever since I kissed her goodbye yesterday. There was nothing I could pin that feeling on. No difference in her kiss. No shadows in her eyes. Nothing more than that sickening certainty in my gut.
And I wasn't sure if I should be glad I was right or not. What right did I have to hold her back if she wanted to leave?
Why did I want her to stay?
I didn't have an answer to that last one. All I knew was that I enjoyed having her around. Enjoyed spending time with her. It wasn't just the sex, as mind-blowing as it was. There was just something about her that drew me. That made me want her to stay.
Maybe it was just a temporary obsession, even though that word was probably too strong. Maybe I was complete ass for trying to get her stay when she wanted to leave. Maybe we'd both be tired of the other in a few days or even weeks.
Maybe.
Then again, maybe not.
I released th
e breath I hadn't realized I'd been holding then bent over and went back to tightening my laces. "Did Addy talk her into staying?"
"Yeah, as far as I know. Something about mani-pedis and shopping therapy." Nathan took a seat on the bench next to me and started taping his stick. "I have a feeling my credit card is going to get a workout, which means you owe me."
"Yeah, no problem." I finished with my right skate then moved to the left. "Are you sure that's what she said? Shopping therapy?"
"Something like that. Why?"
"Because Morgan doesn't strike me as the kind of woman who goes on shopping sprees."
"And you would know this how, exactly?"
"I just do."
"Yeah, if you say so." Nathan ripped the tape from the roll and patted the free end down. "You've known her for an entire week—which means you don't know her at all."
"I know more than you think."
"You keep telling yourself that."
I tied off the laces then straightened, my gaze anything but cordial when I stared at Nathan. "Like you have any room to talk?"
"Different situation."
"Yeah? Because if I recall, you were fu—"
"Don't even go there. Not unless you want me to ram my fist down your throat."
I cleared my throat and tamped down the irrational anger. At least, I tried. "How long were you with Addy before you learned who she really was?"
"That's different."
"Yeah? How?"
"We were having a one-night stand. We didn't want to know anything about each other."
"Bullshit. A one-night stand is just that: one night. You were in over your head the second time you were with her."
"Not hardly."
"I still call bullshit."
"Whatever. At least I know she isn't after me for my money."
Nathan had a point there. I wasn't entirely sure how much he made but I knew he wasn't suffering. Neither was I, when it came to that. But Adelaide Landry came from money. Old money—and a lot of it. I'd been inside her family home—we all had, when the team's owner had thrown a party of sorts for us. It was like stepping into a museum dedicated to the Landry family going back four or five generations, filled with antiques whose value I couldn't even begin to guess.
The meaning behind Nathan's words finally struck me and I whirled toward once more. "What the hell is that supposed to mean?"
"You better hope you have a better reaction time out on the ice tonight."
"Fuck my reaction time on the ice. I want to know what the hell you meant by that."
"Just what I said. You know nothing about this woman who just happened to show up in your apartment with some off-the-wall story. For all you know, she's looking for a sugar daddy or something."
"I'm not old enough to be anyone's sugar daddy. And do people even use that term anymore?"
"Not a clue but it fits."
"The hell it does. I'm the one who asked her to stay, remember?"
"Which only proves you need someone to knock some sense into that thick skull of yours."
"If you're looking for volunteers, I'll be first in line."
I looked to my left then swallowed a groan when Tristan took a seat on my other side. He reached around me, snagged Nathan's roll of tape, then started wrapping the butt of his stick.
"You don't even know what we're talking about, Tris, so take a hike."
"I don't need to know, not if it involves smacking you. As for me going anywhere...I'll pass."
"This doesn't concern you."
"Since when did that ever make a difference?"
"I'm serious, Tris. Get lost."
"You're talking about that girl you're shacking up with, right?"
I clenched my back teeth together hard enough to shatter them then sucked in a deep breath and slowly released it. "Like I said, it's none of your business. And we're not shacking up."
"She's living with you."
"No, she's staying with me."
"Same thing. What's the issue? Maybe I can help."
I didn't bother to hide my gape of surprise, or my soft burst of laughter. "I'm pretty sure I don't need relationship advice from you, considering all the trouble you got into in Utica."
A flush deepened Tristan's cheeks. He bent over his stick, his dark gaze focused on wrapping it. "Don't believe everything you hear."
I started to remind him that he'd been caught in the act with the sister of one of his teammates—by his teammate, no less—but Nathan nudged me in the side and shook his head, silently telling me to let it go. Fine, I'd let it go. Didn't mean I had any intentions of taking dating advice from him.
I reached behind me and grabbed my shoulder pads then slid them into place. The clock on the wall said we had another fifteen minutes before we hit the ice for warm-ups. I figured Coach would be strutting in about ten minutes before that so I still had a few minutes to grill Nathan.
"Do you think Addy can manage to keep an eye on her until we get back tomorrow night?"
"Don't underestimate Addy. She's a hell of a lot shrewder than you'd think. Besides, Jacqui's with them."
That actually made me feel a little better because Jacqui was definitely a force to be reckoned with. Hell, I didn't think I'd have any luck standing up to her. "That woman scares me sometimes."
"You think?" Nathan reached up and absently touched the left side of his face. That had been where Jacqui had hauled off and clobbered him one, leaving him with a bruise for more than a few days.
"What's her story, anyway?"
"Don't know and don't want to know."
"Oh, come on. Don't tell you're not the least bit curious. You know as well as I do that—"
"She's Addy's best friend. As far as I'm concerned, that's all that matters." Nathan shrugged into his jersey then smoothed the front of it down. I didn't miss his grimace of disgust as his hand brushed over the huge logo emblazoned on the front.
"Fair enough." I grabbed my own jersey and pulled it on, wondering once more how the hell they'd ever been approved by the league. They were hideous—beyond hideous—and there was nothing I'd like more than to have a bonfire so we could toss every single one of them into the flames.
Maybe, once the season was over, we could do just that. Too damn bad we still had a long way to go before that time came.
I had just finished readjusting my pads when Coach Somers stormed in, followed by the rest of the coaching staff. As usual, he looked like he'd chewed up some glass and was ready to spit it out at us. He wasn't all bad, despite his bluster. I mean, he really was a good coach and he'd definitely come through for Nathan when Landry had tried to get rid of him. I wondered what he thought when he looked at us with those flat eyes. Did he wonder how he'd gotten saddled with such a motley crew of rejects? Did he view his position with the Bourdons as a punishment of some kind?
I wasn't sure I could blame him if he did, not when most everyone on the team felt the same way.
"Alright, listen up. I want to see some damn hustle out there tonight. Bridgeport is having trouble with their roster and their play has been showing it. There's no reason in hell we can't leave here tonight with one in the win column. Is that understood?"
"Yes, Coach."
He pinched the bridge of his nose then tilted his head back, like he was seeking guidance from the stained ceiling overhead. He blew out a deep breath then looked back at us, his gaze sweeping the room. "What was that?"
"Yes, Coach!" We shouted in unison, louder than the last time. That must have been what he was waiting for because he slapped one large hand against the clipboard then stepped to the side.
"Good. Now get the hell out there and kick some damn ass."
I was pretty sure it wasn't a request, just like I was pretty sure there'd be hell to pay if we didn't do exactly what he said.
Chapter Thirteen
Dylan
I opened the door to my apartment, prepared for the worst. My gut had been twisting and turning all night until I'd fina
lly convinced myself Morgan would be gone by the time I got home. That would be the perfect ending to a completely shitty weekend.
We'd lost to Bridgeport Saturday night, letting them hand our asses to us in a five-to-zip loss. Yeah, I said let because even I had to admit we didn't do a good job of holding them off. It wasn't even a mediocre job.
Hell, it was as if we hadn't even shown up to the game, something Coach had hammered home pretty much non-stop. You'd think after all the lecturing, we would have at least had a stronger showing this afternoon in Providence.
Yeah, you'd think. Too damn bad it hadn't happened that way. We hadn't lost quite as bad—four-to-one, so at least we put something on the board—but it was still a loss.
We were officially in last place.
Again.
So yeah, I fully expected to walk into my apartment and find Morgan gone. It shouldn't bother me as much as it did but the fact of the matter was, it did. There was nothing I could do to change the way I felt and I wouldn't bother to try, not here in my own place with nobody around to see.
Or give me shit.
Yeah, it sucked. No, I didn't know why. To be honest, I didn't really care enough to look too deeply into the reasons. I liked Morgan. We'd been having fun. Did I need more reason than that?
I didn't care if it didn't make sense and I sure as hell didn't need to explain myself to anyone. I'd give myself twenty-four hours to wallow in pity—damn good thing tomorrow was an off-day for us—and that would be it. By the time practice rolled around on Tuesday, I'd be back to my normal self.
At least, as far as everyone else was concerned.
I didn't bother with the lights when I walked in. It had only been a little more than four months but I already knew the place like the back of my hand. Not like it was some sprawling dwelling with lots of twists and turns and alcoves. As long as I didn't misjudge the first step leading to the main living area, I'd be fine.
I dropped my bag next to the door, tossed my keys on the counter island, then made my way to the refrigerator. My hand had just closed around a bottle of beer when I noticed something off about the magnetic notepad I kept on the door. It wasn't in its usual spot.
Troublemaker (New Orleans Bourdons Book 2) Page 7