Page 10 of Finding Alexei
She smiles and takes Ella from me as she steps inside. “Have a good practice.”
I nod, suddenly at a loss for words, and then it hits me. This is most likely the last time I’ll see Ryleigh. We’re strangers. She doesn’t fit in my life, and I certainly don’t belong in hers. And yet . . . I find myself reluctant to leave.
The realization that Coach will ride my ass if I’m even thirty seconds late makes me move quicker back to my car, but not before I turn and look back at this woman and the child who doesn’t belong to her, and wonder what their future holds.
• • •
“Let’s go! Where’s the hustle, Ivan?” Coach yells from the edge of the field, and then blows his whistle.
I jog to the sidelines and take a deep drink of water. He’s right. I’m distracted as fuck and playing like shit.
My teammates notice it, as do the coaching staff, and there’s no excuse for it, other than Ryleigh. My mind is on her instead of practice.
I’m wondering if her heat got turned back on, if she’ll be okay—and not just today. I find myself thinking about what happens next for her, which is crazy. That baby’s not mine. I shouldn’t even care. I’ve always taken great care to wrap my shit up every single time so I don’t end up knocking up some girl and be in the same situation as her roommate. I’ve seen the huge responsibility of having a baby, and I’m in no fucking hurry to become a father.
But then why is my mind stuck on them both?
We finish practice, and I stomp off the turf toward the locker rooms.
“A word, Ivan!” Coach calls out from behind me.
Carrying my helmet, I jog back to where he waits.
“Something going on with you?”
I shake my head and try to move the knots that have settled between my shoulders. “Just didn’t get enough sleep last night.” At least that much is true. “I’ll be ready for the game Sunday.”
A vein throbs in his forehead as he runs one hand over the back of his neck. “You’d better be.”
“Yes, sir.” I nod and jog off, releasing a heavy exhale.
Frustrated, I move through my post-practice routine in silence, removing my pads and gear, stripping down, and showering under the warm spray. By the time I’m done toweling off, I don’t feel any better, but I know what I need to do. I need to see Ryleigh. Need to see with my own eyes that she’s fine, and then I’ll move on, let them live their lives and I’ll go back to living mine. She said she had to work today, so I decide that’s where I’ll go first.
I dress in jeans and a long-sleeved T-shirt. A few minutes later, I’m out the door and heading toward a certain topless bar . . . toward a certain woman who’s constantly on my mind.
When I arrive, I park my car, making sure to lock it, and then head inside.
Blinking to allow my eyes to adjust to the dim interior, I approach the hostess station, already looking around for Ryleigh. I don’t see her, but a blond hostess smiles at me and grabs a sticky menu as she steps out front to greet me. She’s in a skintight black dress that’s so short, I’m sure if she bent over, I’d see what color her panties are—if she’s even wearing any panties in this “upscale” establishment.
“Hi, handsome. One for lunch?” she asks.
“Sure. Is Ryleigh working today?”
The blonde nods. “I’ll seat you in her section. Right this way.”
Frustration blooms inside my gut as I follow her through the bar and toward the back where high-top tables and booths wait, mostly empty at this time of day. The walls are painted black, and red silk sheets hang from the ceiling, dividing off the space. Deep, seductive bass music thumps softly in the background.
After sitting in one side of the booth and accepting the menu, I still haven’t spotted Ryleigh. The hostess flounces away, leaving me alone with my thoughts.
Part of me knows I shouldn’t be here, but the other part of me won’t be satisfied until I see her.
I thought I was prepared to see her again . . . until Ryleigh turns the corner and steps into my line of sight. What I wasn’t prepared for is the heavily made-up version of Ryleigh wearing nothing but a tiny pair of glittery booty shorts. My heart begins beating like a snare drum inside my chest. Fuck.
She stops in her tracks when she sees me, her eyes widening almost comically large, and something inside me twists.
For a second I think she’s going to run and hide, or at least try to cover herself. But then Ryleigh finds her composure, straightens her shoulders, and moves toward me.
