Stealing Home (21 page)

My fingers curled into the armrests of the chair. I’d seen enough—I should just let this settle in before I went any further down this vortex. Before I could control what was happening, I typed something else into the search engine. Something about the Shock’s team dietician two seasons ago.

That hole in my stomach stretched wider. Another young woman who’d only stayed a season.

My fingers flew across the keyboard again. Typing in Shock’s physical therapy team for the season last year, I scrolled through the images until I found the one I was searching for. Same exact thing. Young woman. One season.

For a minute I just stared at her picture, shock rendering me motionless. When the shock receded just enough to let comprehension in, I noticed something.

She had blond hair, brown eyes, and was on the petite side. Scanning back to the team dietician, same story. I didn’t need to go back to Callie’s photos to confirm the same thing.

Luke Archer had a type, and it seemed the team had been catering to his preferences ever since he’d signed on. He had a type. Blond, brown-eyed, petite, and willing to crawl into bed with him.

That was when the room began to spin again, though it wasn’t from the alcohol—it was from a harsh dose of reality setting in. The Shock hadn’t hired me on merit and talent alone, like I’d believed. They hadn’t hired the three women before me on any of that either.

I’d been brought on for one reason and one reason only—to keep Luke Archer happy and swinging for the fences. Blood rolled to a boil in my veins, anger masking the pain.

He was about to get a dose of harsh reality himself.

CLIMBING ABOARD THE team plane that afternoon took every ounce of courage I had at my disposal. I’d talked myself into resigning mid-season a hundred times already—and I’d talked myself out of it a hundred times. Despite feeling like a joke being here, I knew to up and leave in the middle of a team’s season would look bad. Any hopes I had for continuing my career in professional sports would be dashed. I didn’t want one season to define the rest of my career, so I told myself to suck it up and finish the season strong. I reminded myself that these kinds of trials were what made people stronger and that by the end of this, I would be made of steel.

Convincing myself to finish the season was easy. Or, easier. Convincing myself that I didn’t have feelings for Luke Archer was not. It should have been. After everything I’d learned in the past twenty-four hours, accepting that anything I had or did feel for him had all been based on a giant ruse should have been simple.

It wasn’t though. When I thought about Luke, I still felt things for him. I still felt my stomach tighten when I thought of the way he looked at me. I still felt that surge of hope for when I’d get to see him next. I still felt that sense of peace and belonging when I thought about him.

I hated myself for all of it. I despised myself for still caring about some man who’d lied to me and betrayed me. That was okay though, I convinced myself, because I could make hate work. Hate kept the fire of anger burning—I would have been in more trouble if I’d forgiven myself for my weakness.

As I stepped inside the cabin, I’d never been so aware of my expression and making sure the one I’d practiced in the mirror earlier stayed in place. Most of the team was already on board, buckled into their seats with their headphones on. Some of them already looked asleep, some were looking at the windows, and some were playing on their phones. But one was looking up, straight at me.

My lungs strained when I felt his stare on me. He didn’t know I knew. He was still looking at me like I meant something—like I was special. He was good at that. I supposed he had to be. None of us had known why we’d been hired—not the real reason. It wasn’t like he could just be an ass and we’d beg him to fuck us sideways all season. Luke had to look at us like that. He had to make each of us feel special. He had to do that so we would all give him what he wanted without making it seem like some carefully crafted plan built to keep the star player happy and the team wins adding up.

Giving him the most passing glance I was capable of, I kept moving by his row. I didn’t miss the way he indicated the window seat empty beside him. I didn’t miss the damn tiny box with a bow on it resting on the empty seat.

I felt like someone was ripping my heart to pieces when I passed him. I could hear him twisting around in his seat, watching me. I could feel his stare as I wound farther down the aisle, putting me as far away from him as the plane would allow.

Just when I was about to take the empty row at the back of the plane, I changed my mind. Knowing Luke, once the plane was in the air, he’d come back to sit with me, and I wasn’t ready to talk to him. I’d have to soon, but not yet. The sting of it all was too fresh. I knew I’d say things I’d regret.

“Mind if I squeeze in beside you?” I stopped outside of the row Reynolds was stretched out in.

He slid off his big headphones, confusion forming on his face. “Be my guest, Doc.” He motioned at the empty seat beside him and stood to let me squeeze by.

The whole time, I felt Archer watching. As I turned to sit, our gazes met for just long enough I could see the same lines of confusion drawn on his forehead. To distract myself, I fought with the buckle, trying to get it adjusted to fit me, but being flustered and nervous was making basic things difficult.

“Do you need some help?” Reynolds asked.

“I’ve got it.”

“Sure about that?” he said when I started beating the two ends together when they refused to latch.

A moment later, I got them to cooperate. “I’ve got it,” I breathed, sagging into the seat.

A few minutes passed in silence except for my shifting every few seconds, trying to get comfortable. I was having a difficult time deciding if I wanted the window shade open or closed.

By the time we were in the air and I was still a shifting, undecided wreck, Reynolds leaned over. “Do you need to talk, Doc?”

Finally I found the right position I felt comfortable in, settling on the window being closed. “No,” I said, closing my eyes. “I need to forget.”

I’D SURVIVED THE plane. I’d survived the walk through the airport, when he’d tried coming up beside me and slipping something into my hand, by dodging into the women’s bathroom before he could get the little box in my grip. I’d survived the drive to the hotel. I’d survived the awkward moments when he’d tried to get my attention and I’d pretended not to notice. I’d survived the day.

I wasn’t sure I’d survive the night. I wasn’t sure I’d survive the hotel.

As soon as the team had gotten checked in, I’d disappeared into my room and hadn’t left it. The phone started ringing five minutes after I locked myself inside. Since my cell was still turned off, I guessed he figured he’d try to get a hold of me this way. After the third call went unanswered, I took the phone off the hook. I wasn’t ready.

My cell I turned back on because I couldn’t risk missing a team call, but I kept it on silent so his calls, which came in every fifteen minutes, wouldn’t echo through the room. I refused to look at the stream of texts coming in from him, or the ones I’d missed.

As a distraction, I flipped the television on to break the silence and the tone of my thoughts. It didn’t work.

It was just past eleven when a soft knock sounded outside my door. I’d just been heading into the bathroom when I froze. It wasn’t housekeeping on the other side.

“Allie?” His voice was quiet, but it seemed to echo through my room like a shout. “I know you’re in there. I heard you moving around. I’ve been standing outside of your room for ten minutes trying to figure out what the hell to say. Trying to figure out what the hell’s going on. Are you okay?” A thud came from the other side of the door, like he’d dropped his forehead into it. “Are
we
okay?”

When I didn’t reply in the form of words or opening the door, I heard him sigh. “Is this about the charity ball the other night? Are you upset about something I did? Mad that we didn’t go together? Because you know how I feel about that. I don’t care if people see us. I don’t care if everyone finds out we’re together. I’m tired of pretending.”

His words were so sincere, the ache in them so raw. My throat was burning from the emotions erupting inside me. It was unfair that the world had created a man who could master such sincerity when none existed beyond the façade.

“Please talk to me. Please just open the door. Scream at me. Slap me. Just do something. This silent thing is killing me, Allie. This isn’t how two people communicate.” Another thud on the outside of the door. “Please just tell me what you’re upset about so I have the opportunity to explain myself or share my side of the story. I can’t fix this if I don’t know what’s wrong.”

My arms crossed like I was trying to keep myself together. There was nothing to fix, because there’d been nothing between us. You can’t fix something you never had.

“Allie? Please?” His voice was louder now, tight with emotion.

That was when I almost caved. That was when my body angled toward the door, my hand lifting in its direction. That was when I realized how weak I’d become because of him. I could barely control my own body. I was incapable of controlling my own thoughts, he’d rendered me into such a fragile state. The strength I’d known had left me in my most desperate moment, and part of me hated him for that.

I should have known what I’d felt for him wasn’t the real thing. I should have known it was false, because weren’t the people we cared for supposed to make us stronger instead of weaker? Weren’t they supposed to make us steadfast instead of feeble?

“I’m sliding a note under your door with a place and a time tomorrow morning. I’ll be there waiting. You can make me wait all day if you want, just please show up eventually. Please tell me what’s wrong so I can make it right.”

When a folded up piece of paper slipped under my door, I flinched, but I didn’t move. He was still waiting outside the door. I wondered if he’d wait there all night.

“For whatever I did, or for whatever you think I did, I’m sorry.”

His footsteps moved away from my door, but it wasn’t until I heard the elevator doors ping that I felt safe to move. I could have left his note on the carpet, but I knew I wouldn’t be able to fall asleep with it sitting in plain view. After grabbing it, I rushed into the bathroom and was about to drop it in the garbage can when I thought twice. If I woke up in a moment of weakness, I could grab it and read what he’d written. In another moment of weakness, I could actually show up to wherever he was planning on being in the morning. In the worst moment of weakness possible, I could let him construct a story and an explanation I’d buy until I was reminded of the reality of it when the season ended, taking my employment with the team with it.

Veering toward the toilet, I dropped the letter inside and flushed it before I could change my mind. I tried not to let the irony of that letter’s journey hit me.

THE INEVITABLE. I couldn’t put it off another minute longer. After failing to sleep last night and spending the rest of the day hiding in my room, I was done. I was done feeling weak and acting like it. We were both employees of the Shock, and it wasn’t like I could reasonably avoid him the next two months of the season.

Confrontation. I’d have to do it eventually, and I guessed as soon as I stepped foot in that locker room, it would happen. That was fine. If he wanted to so desperately know why I’d cut him off, I’d let him know. He was an idiot if he didn’t already have an idea why.

Instead of taking the bus the team had chartered over to the stadium, I let Coach know I’d catch a cab over. Shepherd was technically who I reported to, but after our last conversation, which was about as unprofessional as it got, I wasn’t eager to report anything to him. Least of all why I was taking a cab instead of the team bus, because he’d know why. He’d love knowing why. I couldn’t deal with Shepherd’s gloating today. Not with everything else.

The locker room was buzzing when I shoved through the doors. After the win of the home game and the season continuing to go so well, the guys were almost acting like they’d already bagged the pennant. Tonight’s game against the New York Vikings should be a straightforward win. The players knew it too.