Page 81 of Irresistibly Risky

She laughs at how quickly I release her and do just that, my body thanking me even though the ice is obviously freezing and isn’t the most pleasant or accommodating.

“Too bad you don’t have your skates. I could show you some moves.”

I squint up at her, using my good hand to block the overhead lights from shining straight into my eyes. “Even if my shoulder or body were up to it, I wouldn’t risk it. I haven’t skated since I was fifteen and Suzie made me go on a double date with her and Zax.”

“Oh? Who was the girl?”

I think about it for a moment. “I don’t remember her name. Only that she let me get to second base behind the concession stand.”

She rolls her eyes at me, but she can’t fight her smile. I’ll admit, when I initially chased after her, I thought I was going to have a lot of explaining and groveling to do. I’m beyond floored by her trust and faith in me.

“Show me how pretty you skate. I want to see all the moves.”

She twists around and starts skating backward, her eyes still on me as I lie here like a gimpy starfish. She flips around and skates away from me as she starts to talk. “On my fifth birthday, I fell out of the tree in our front yard, breaking my arm. My mom was out, grabbing some last-minute items for the party I was having later that day. My dad and her best friend were inside, supposedly setting up, but when I screamed for help, no one came.” She goes into a spin, her head tilted back, and her hands arched behind her back, holding the blade of her skate and her leg up to her head, as she twirls around and around. When she’s done with her spin she continues with her story. “When I went inside, I’m sure you can imagine what I walked in on.”

I grimace. The thought of a five-year-old child walking in on her parent having sex with another person is repugnant.

“I didn’t know what they were doing,” she admits, coming to a stop and then pushing off again, just skating around, twisting and spinning and moving across the ice. “My father yelled at me for being stupid enough to climb the tree and then fall out of it as he shoved himself back into his clothes, and my mother’s friend sat there with a stunned look on her face since my bone was protruding through my skin. I made him call my mother, and at first, he wouldn’t let me talk to her, but I was screaming and crying and in so much pain, and I could hear her yelling at him to call an ambulance. He told her it would make the news if he did. Like somehow the potential disgrace of his child being injured was more important to him than getting me medical attention. Anyway, he drove me to the hospital, and my mother met him there, and I told her exactly what happened when she asked.”

She increases her speed and launches herself into a jump, twisting around at least twice before landing on one skate. I clap my hands, and she gives me a curtsy before skating back over to me, stopping a few feet away.

“They fought in the room beside mine, and I heard everything he said. He told her that a man grows bored with only one woman after a while and then he blamed me for everything. He said having a kid wasn’t what he wanted and that it was holding his career back. He said if I hadn’t fallen out of the tree, I wouldn’t have seen anything, and then my mother could have continued to be pleasantly blind to his affairs. Those are the words he said. Pleasantly blind to his affairs.”

She puffs out a breath and then takes a seat on the ice beside me, her hands in her lap and her legs stretched outward, crossed at the ankles.

I reach over with my good hand and take one of hers, resting it on her lap.

“He left after that. He didn’t even stick around for when I had surgery. He told me he was leaving and that he might not see me for a long time. By the time I got out of the hospital, he had moved, somehow got himself traded to a new team, and that was that. I’d call him from my mom’s phone and leave him voice messages. I’d apologize and beg him to come home. I’d promise to be good and never cause trouble. He never called me back. He never reached out. That morning I ran into you in the bathroom at the stadium was the first time I saw him in twenty-six years.”

Jesus. What a motherfucker. What kind of man does that, not only to their wife but to their child? Who puts that sort of bullshit blame on a five-year-old when the fault lies at his feet and no one else’s and then abandons them completely?

She can see I’m burning with rage and runs the fingers of her other hand across my face, trying to smooth out my scowl and furrow, but to no avail. I see red. A haze so thick and deep and consuming, I can practically taste it.

It’s bloodlust.

I want to kill the man with my bare hands.

“He’s not a man.” The words cleave past my lips with a razor-sharp edge. Maybe I shouldn’t have said that, but it’s true. I force myself to rein in my temper. “That’s why you hate football players.”

Her fingers comb through my sweat-damp hair. “I did. Now I just hate him.”

“I’m not him.”

She nods. “I know.”

“I won’t ever be him.”

She smiles and leans down, kissing my lips. “I know,” she whispers against me before sitting back up. “I have a lot of old wounds I never worked at trying to heal. You asked me to try with you, and I can’t think of a more perfect way to put it. I want to try and heal this. With you.”

“If I could move, I’d kiss you.”

She laughs, the sound loud as it hits the hard surfaces and echoes back to us. “Good thing I’m flexible and can kiss you.” She bends in half and kisses me again, only this time I slip her some tongue.

“Your mom told me we have a kid-free night.”

She nips my bottom lip. “You called my mother?”

“How else do you think I knew where to find you?”

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