Page 90 of These Wicked Games
“Has anyone given you any shit?”
“No. Not to my face anyway. I don’t go on social media, though, so probably.”
“I don’t check mine really. I just post random shit on it. I never check the comments. Just faceless people with a lot of opinions. They aren’t important.” I kiss him. “What about your father?”
His eyes darken and he looks away from me. “He stopped calling me.”
“How far from here does he live?”
“About ten minutes. We used to live in the suburbs, in this gated community called Angel Heights. I don’t know if he’ll be at the game tomorrow. Probably. I haven’t seen him since the parking garage.”
On my life that man isn’t going to lay a finger on him. “I’ll protect you, Dre.”
“Should probably start protecting myself too. I don’t know why I always let him win.”
“You don’t let him win. You left. You built an entire life for yourself. You didn’t let him win.” His eyes glaze before focusing on the tattoo. He caps the green and takes the blue. “I mean it. No one will hurt you. Not with me around.” He stops coloring, then slides his fingers over the skull on my chest to cup my heart. It’s all his. I want to tell him that but I can’t form the words. “Can you tell me about the night you escaped him?” His eyes widen, trying hard to focus again on the tattoo.
“That night, after we fought, I’d gone to the bar to see Vee. She was the only person who knew, and I just wanted to delay going home. He’s always been worse when we lose. It’s like he thinks the wins rest solely on my shoulders. When I walked in, I was pissed after fighting with you, still a bit drunk, and he told me how pathetic the game was and that I needed to go practice.”
“That late?”
He nods. “I’d had it. I said no. He hurt me. I threatened him back—something I’ve never done.” He swallows. “He pulled a gun on me. Threatened me. Told me I needed to practice in the morning until my feet bled. I scrambled upstairs, called Vanessa, and asked if I could come to her. The next day I went to my coach and the GM and told them both I needed to be traded. My agent fought against it, so I fired him. I didn’t take no for an answer.” He shrugs. “You guys were looking for a goalie and signed me so fucking fast.”
“Because you’re the best.”
He caps the blue marker, looking at me. “I swear I didn’t come here for you. I’ve never wanted to make your life more difficult. I mean it.”
I don’t know what to say to that. I know he didn’t switch the cups, and the more I think about it, the more my suspicion grows. The missing piece is the why. If it wasn’t Andre then it had to be the doctor or Tripp, but I don’t understand why either of them would have done it. Me succeeding wouldn’t have hurt Andre in any way. The only person who can answer these questions is in danger of me snapping their neck right now, though.
Does it even matter?
I’m not sure. I know deep down Andre didn’t do it, but curiosity wants me to solve this. As painful as it is to admit, I know deep down that my mother wouldn’t have lived much longer anyway. Back then I didn’t want to listen to reason, though. Back then, when the doctor told me she wasn’t responding well to the chemo, I believed her when she said she felt better.
I know deep down I got signed on a much better team. These guys are my home—Grey, Atlas, even Ryker. Especially Andre. They’re my home.
Fate is a wicked witch, but sometimes she knows what she’s doing.
What matters is right here in this bed. We can’t change how we got here, but I’ll do everything I can to make the future as bright as possible for the two of us. I look down as he caps his marker. “My tit is blue.”
He laughs. “Sorry, I’ll take my time on the next one. I want to make the skull pink.” I grab his hand, bringing it to my lips and laying a kiss on it. Three little words dance on my tongue, but for some reason they choke in my throat. Instead I pull him in, kissing him softly. His tongue licks the seam of my lips, and I know if we don’t get up now we never will. “Come on, shower with me, then we’ll go see Vee.”
In the shower we spend more time kissing than we do washing each other. His soft lips are distracting. I’ve never felt fire like this in any of the relationships I’ve attempted. There’s something that happens to me when Andre’s around me. I’ve always felt it, even when I hated him.
There’s this thread that seems to connect us. Even back when we were teenagers I felt it. I was always happiest when Andre was nearme. Back then I couldn’t put a name to it, but now I know what it’s called. I’m just afraid to say it out loud. “The water’s going to get cold,” he whispers. “Most of the marker ink is gone, but I don’t want to rub your titty raw.” That makes me bark out a laugh.
I step away, standing under the water and rinsing off the soap, and he joins me, turning his back to me. My eyes dip to the swell of his ass. Fucking perfect. I step back a little, helping him gently rinse the conditioner from his hair strand by strand. I can already imagine how loose and soft his curls will be when he’s done drying them before we go out. I idly comb my fingers through his hair, forgetting his warning about the water. I can’t help myself. I love touching him. Finally, I place a kiss to his neck and reluctantly shut the water off. “I just need to dry my hair. I’ll be quick.”
Andre helps me out, and I wrap a towel around my waist. “Take your time. We can delay Vee’s ‘I told you so’ as long as we need to.”
We walk up to Ruby’s. It’s nearing ten now, and I know we have to get up and be at practice by eleven tomorrow morning. Andre’s fingers twitch, and I almost think he’s going to grab my hand, but they fall back to his sides. We decided to walk here because it’s only ten minutes from the hotel. I remember now, that’s how Grey had found it that first night.
“Sorry about throwing you onto a table.”
He snorts. “Yeah well, sorry for punching your pretty face. Thankfully didn’t do too much damage.”
I think about the things I said to him, feeling so much shame. “I’m sorry about what I said about you disappointing Tripp.”
“I’m sorry for the comment about your mom that first night in the bathroom.” He stops to look at me. “I am. I’m really sorry.” I take his hand. Fuck it. It’s out, and I don’t want to deprive myself the luxury of being with this man for the comfort of others.
