I look up at the guy who’s been my biggest rival since I was fifteen years old, not caring that he can see how wrecked I am. “What?”
“I can tell you to leave her alone. Finish out the season and when Oregon offers you that fat contract, take it and go. Give Natalie the chance to have the life she deserves.”
Chapter 22
Natalie
“Greg, you sound weird. Did you hit your head again? Does it hurt? Was it too much today? I told you to play it safe and give it another day, no matter what the doctors said. What was one more day?”
“Chill! Jesus, Nat, my head is fine. Relax, okay?” he snaps through the line as I resume running my pitiful little basket of frozen dinners for one through the self-checkout.
“Well, good. Don’t scare me like that.” One of the protein bowls won’t scan so I try to get the attention of the lone clerk a few aisles down. “So what’s going on then?”
Because he totally sounds weird.
“Can’t a guy ask his sister to meet him for dinner?”
I look down at the box dinner I still can’t scan. “Umm, gee Greg, that’s really nice of you. But I sort of have other plans.”
Which may or may not include bingeing some of Vaughn’s old games and a few rounds of will I, won’t I before finally breaking down and trolling social media and—to my eternal shame—some of the bunny boards for sightings.
I want to know what he’s wearing. If he’s been hanging out with the guys at the Five Hole.
Closing my eyes, I take a slow breath.
If he’s been with anyone else.
It’s going to happen. One of these days he’s going to stop shooting the women down and I’m going to find a post that will kill me. And I’m going to tell myself I needed to see it. That it’s a good thing. Because it means that he’s moving on. And then maybe I’ll be able to too.
Maybe I’ll be able to let him go.
Greg growls through the line. “Nat, for the record I’m pretty sure you don’t have any plans at all. But even if you did. Cancel them. Come hang out… I… uhh… Julia’s out of town and I need to talk, okay? Meet me at Belfast in twenty minutes.”
“Wait, not Belfast—” But he’s already gone.
Twenty minutes and one abandoned basket of frozen dinners later, I’m shaking off the spring mist as Brody, Belfast’s owner, cuts through the after-work crowd to wrap a burly arm around me.
“Natalie! Greg’s got a table in the Back Room. Want me to send over a Goose Island?”
I thank him and head toward the closed-off part of the bar, usually reserved for nights with live music. Greg’s sitting at one of the high-tops near the stage, a water and what looks like the remains of a burger plate in front of him. I check the time on my phone. I’m not late.
“Did you already eat?” So much for dinner.
“Yeah, I was starving,” he says, rubbing a hand over his flat stomach, flashing me a quick grin.
This guy does not look like he has anything heavy weighing on his mind. In fact, he kind of looks delighted with himself.
An uneasy feeling comes over me.
“Greg. What’s going on?”
Shoving up from his seat, he waves me into one of the open ones. “Give me a minute. I’ll put your order in. Chicken Alfredo?”
“Roadhouse burger with rings.”
“Right.” He leans in, smacks a kiss on my temple and rubs the top of my head like a dog.
Cripes.
A minute passes. I check my phone.
Another. I pull up Instagram. Start the search of shame. There’s a sighting from two nights ago, where someone caught a picture of Vaughn filling up his car with gas. It’s a picture I’ve looked at too many times already. My thumb hovers over the button. Hovers, hovers, hovers…
Finally I take the screen shot and save it to my phone.
“Such a stalker,” I groan.
What am I doing?
“Hey, Nat?” an unfamiliar guy asks, leaning into my field of vision with a bright smile.
“Yes?” I’m trying to place his face, but not getting any hits. That still doesn’t mean we haven’t met. I meet a lot people through the clinic, volunteering, and Greg.
He sticks his hand out to shake. “Chad Benson. I’m on Greg’s team of financial managers.”
“Oh, nice to meet you.”
He slides onto the chair to my right, which seems sort of strange and presumptuous until he adds, “Greg said I should join you.”
I’m about to say something polite when another guy I don’t know pops up beside us. “Natalie, right?” he says, leaning in for some kind of one-armed squeeze that has little alarms sounding in the back of my head. “Dwayne Levine, I’m one of Greg’s trainers. Great to meet you. Really great.”
What the heck?
He takes the chair to my left. Reaches over the table with a friendly smile to shake with the finance guy. Then turning back to me, he grins. “So this is fun, huh?”
I crane around, searching for my brother, when a third guy steps past the rope separating us from the main bar.
Three guys I’ve never met. Nice enough looking. Athletic builds… but not pros.
Number three drops into Greg’s seat, ignoring the empty plate there, and gives me a nod and once over that has my jaw dropping as I suck in a horrified breath.
Three guys… who are big-brother approved.
And no brother in sight.
“Greg Baxter, I don’t care if you are concussed or not, you are a dead man!” I bellow, storming into my brother’s apartment like I own the place. Or like I know it will torque him off if I act like I do.
“Natalie?”
My head swings around to where Julia is sitting on the floor in her living room with her friends Laurel and Margo, and her little sister, Cammy.
“What are you doing here?” I ask, confused because Greg’s whole excuse for wanting to hang out was that Julia wasn’t in town.
Cammy turns to her sister and, pointing a sloshing martini at her, giggles. “Yeah, Jules, what the hell are you doing in your own home? Quick, someone call the cops.”
The steel leaves my spine, and I slump into the wall. “Sorry, Julia. Your husband told me—and I thought—” Closing my eyes, I shake my head. “I’m so sorry for crashing in here like a psycho.”
“We’ll forgive you,” Margo offers, waving her own drink around. “But only if you come in and dish the deets on what’s got you so hopping mad.”
All the girls are nodding, patting the carpet beside them. I let out a long breath and cross to an open spot between Cammy and Margo. I don’t really know Margo too well except that she and Laurel go back and I’m pretty sure she has a thing for Laurel’s brother, but Cammy and I spent two years together at Bearings High School, and we’ve become pretty good friends since Julia and Greg got together. She’s got the cutest kid on the planet and, when it comes to romance, about as much luck as me.
“Where’s the kiddo tonight?” I ask, sinking to the floor and accepting the drink Margo has already mixed for me.
“Rux.”
I raise a brow.
“Word to the wise, don’t make bets with Julia.”
Margo pushes back one of the ebony ringlets spilling out from her headband and clears her throat. “Yeah, that’s nice and all, but I’m still waiting to hear about what Greg did.”
All eyes light up, and I swear they lean in in unison.
“Oh yeah. Do tell!” Julia beams, scrunching back against the base of the sofa. “He’s been so bored cooped up for the past few weeks. I can’t wait to hear this.”
“Apparently he decided to celebrate his freedom by helping me out with my love life.”
Cue the round of awws that have me knocking back half my drink. It practically comes back out when the burn hits and, coughing, I gape at Margo.
She shrugs and tops off my glass.
“He what?” Julia looks delighted. Of course she does.
“No. You do not giv
e me that ‘oh, my husband is completely adorable’ look,” I huff.
“That really is kind of adorable though,” Cammy agrees with a sigh. “Did he introduce you to a friend?”
Ha! “Try three friends. And to say he introduced us would be a stretch.”
Julia’s blond brows arch, like maybe she’s seeing this isn’t quite so cute as she thought. “How’s that?”
“Yeah, how’s that?” Margo echoes, waving me on. “I want to adjust my expectations before I get too excited about you telling me about some four-way action.”
The next gulp goes down smoother. “Sorry, way off, Margo. What he did was ditch me at Belfast and then blindside me with not one, not two, but three different blind dates that apparently all had his stamp of approval.”
“What?” Julia coughs, pushing up to her knees. “Not all at once though?”
“Oh yeah. One, two, three. A nice little square table with me on one side and the three of them around the others. All shaking hands with each other. Complimenting me on my Wisconsin hoodie with a hole in the shoulder.”
Laurel’s outraged on my behalf, but I’m getting the sense it’s got more to do with being underdressed for three first impressions. Margo wants to know if I picked one and whether we hooked up. And Julia, cripes, she’s muttering something about how such a sweet, smart guy could be so dense… looking like she still finds it completely adorable.
How is it that I’m the only one pissed about this?
Except, I know someone else who would be equally enraged… probably even more so. But telling him would be a serious mistake. One, because we aren’t together anymore. And two, because Vaughn losing his shit with so much riding on his good behavior would be a disaster. He needs to get away from Greg, not end up brawling with him in the street.
So even though he might be the only person capable of understanding how much this bothers me, I can’t talk to him about it.
I can’t talk to him about anything.
My chest feels tight, and there’s a burn in the back of my throat that has nothing to do with Margo’s napalm-strength drink. It’s Vaughn. I miss him and it hurts. So stupid. He’s potentially the worst guy I could pick in the non-criminal, STD-free universe. I knew it in Vancouver.
Before that.
I’ve known it since he was that hothead at the tournaments. But even so, I let myself get attached. I let myself fall for him.
God, I let myself love him.
With an unsteady hand, I hold out my glass for a refill.
“Whoa, ladies,” Margo cuts in, setting my glass aside and then rubbing my arm gently. “Natalie doesn’t look so good.”
“I’m fine.” I shake my head, but the tears are already in my eyes, dang it. “Frustrated after today is all.”
Suddenly, everyone is sitting closer. Julia takes my hand in hers. “Hey, I get it. Greg can be… a little pushy and overbearing when he gets something in his head. He doesn’t know how to quit. But I mean, look on the bright side, you had dinner with three guys decent enough your brother actually likes them, and enamored with you enough to go on a… three-way blind date.”
“Four-way.” Margo looks around. “Right?”
“Okay, a four-way.” Her eyes light up and she gives my hand a squeeze. “Even better.”
They have no idea. And how would they, never having to figure out the hard way that the guy giving you all his attention is more interested in your brother than you. Those guys tonight hadn’t even met me before. They have no reason to want to date me. But because my brother asked them to, they not only met me for a blind date, but they willingly went into it knowing they’d be with two other guys. Give me a break. That’s not about me.
That’s about Greg.
And for as much as I know these girls care about me, I’m pretty sure they can’t really see past my brother either. Julia, she shouldn’t have to. Cammy has had a case of Greg worship since high school. Laurel wasn’t that close to Greg in high school, but her husband Jack was. And Margo… well, she’s… awesome, but maybe a little nutty and probably Team Greg like everyone else.
And why shouldn’t they be? He’s a great guy.
It’s just not so great being his sister sometimes.
Besides, the way I’m feeling isn’t really about this latest example of why it’s hard for me to trust the motives of the guys who ask me out. It’s about Vaughn, the guy I need to let go.
Margo presses a full glass back into my hand and holds up her own.
“Okay, so let’s get to the good stuff. There are three guys, which one are you keeping and which ones do Cammy and I get?”
It’s easy to get pulled into the laughter with these girls, and soon enough, we’re ordering Thai food and cheesecakes. When Rux calls for my wuss brother—who is apparently back at Cammy’s place helping babysit—to find out how mad I am on a scale of walking into my room without knocking to breaking my new stick before the championship game at State… I hand my phone off to Margo. I didn’t realize she and Rux knew each other, but she’s laughing within seconds and asking him about his stick while Laurel and Cammy chime in from the background. Pretty sure the stick in question is not the one that got him the assist two days ago against the Blues.
Gross.
Pushing up from the floor, I head into my brother’s ultra-modern kitchen and pour myself a tall glass of water. The lights are off and it’s kind of nice to just stand here in the dark looking out over the sparkling cityscape.
“Hey, how you doing?” Julia asks, coming up beside me.
“Better than I was.” I hand her the glass I poured and fill another for myself. “Your husband is on my shit list, no question. But I’m prepared to let him live.”
She snorts, and it’s so at odds with the perfection of her classic beauty, I can’t help but laugh.
“Well, I appreciate it.”
I sigh, turning to her. “Sorry for barging in like a lunatic, but thank you for letting me stay. I needed a night like this more than I realized.”
Nodding toward the front room, she smiles. “There’s no one better than these girls. And I’m glad you stayed. I miss seeing you laugh.”
I give her a wan smile, but what can I say?
“Have you talked to him lately? Vaughn?”
I close my eyes, wondering how I can be surprised that Julia knows. “Greg told you?”
“Yeah, but I’d already figured it out.” Of course she had. It’s what she does. “Sorry I called him an asshole.”
Cutting her a look, I let out a chuckle. And when she holds out an arm, I don’t fight it. I take the hug I kind of desperately need and hold on. “He slugged your husband. You were entitled.”
She wants to know about Vancouver and what it was like when he first figured out who I was. I tell her about those early nights of fighting what quickly began to feel inevitable, and for a minute it feels like I’m there again, on the brink of something amazing. Something that feels so right…
Covering my eyes, I say what I’ve been trying to deny for too long. “I think I made a mistake.”
Chapter 23
Vaughn
I should get the fuck out of here. Not a news flash. I’ve been telling myself the same thing since I pulled up to Natalie’s place and started loitering on her stoop like a damn vagrant. No, not a vagrant—a stalker.
She’s got a date tonight.
A date with someone who could be serious. A guy Baxter likes and approves of. Someone she likes enough to be out with until two thirty in the morning.
Jesus.
Dates don’t last that long if they aren’t going well. If there isn’t something there. And even if there is, most restaurants, movies and bars aren’t open this late. My gut knots, and for a minute I can’t breathe. Because if she isn’t at any of those places and she isn’t here, then she went home with him.
I should go. Only there’s no fucking way I will. Not until I see with my own eyes that he’s better for her than I am.
He
adlights slice through the darkness and I wait like I have the past dozen times, hoping it’s her, hating him.
The car stops at the curb—a limo—and my knuckles crack as I pray this cheesy, pretentious fuck doesn’t try to kiss her good night. That she doesn’t invite him in. I don’t even want to know what he looks like, what his name is, or how I could find him when I think about his hands on her. His mouth. Motherfucker, anything else.
But I have to.
The car door opens and I hear her laugh. It’s not something I’m prepared for and for a minute I think I might puke.
Then she’s stepping out of the car. Make that stumbling out of the car and laughing some more.
That fucker got her drunk?
My feet start to move. He’s dead. And if I don’t get to finish the job before the cops arrive, it’s a safe bet Baxter will do it himself when he hears.
And what the hell? He isn’t even getting out to walk her to her door?
I’m ready to take this guy’s head off—except then I’m not, because Natalie looks up and our eyes meet and suddenly it’s just her and me and this thing between us I can’t explain. Her laughter fades and her smile softens, spreading as she starts walking toward me through the grass. The look in her eyes is the one I see in my dreams and has me forgetting about the guy, the car, about anything beyond her.
She doesn’t stop until we come together. Her fingertips making first contact at my ribs, her palms pressing in a heartbeat later as she slides her hands up my chest and around my neck.
“You’re here,” she whispers, eyes shining bright. “I wanted you to be here… and you are.”
“Allie,” I growl, heart slamming as my arms come around her waist. “Baby, are you okay?”
She nods, her fingers sifting through the hair at the back of my neck. “I think I might be now.” And then she does it, goes to her toes and pulls me down into her kiss.
“Christ, I’ve missed you,” I say against her lips, not willing to break the contact. Not willing to risk this moment.
DIRTY SECRET: A Slayers Hockey Novel Page 15