Another hit, p.18
Another Hit, page 18
Did I really know him? Apparently not. There was no way he’d want to stay married to me. I’d been stupid, just like Stella said. Swept up in the fantasy.
I swallowed as the truth slammed into me, causing the buzzing in my ears to grow louder.
“Fists?”
He hadn’t called me that in months. Typically, I was krasivaya now. Nausea assailed me for the second time.
“How could you?” I whispered. My composure was slipping, fast. I knew that was what Stella wanted and yet…I held the proof. I swallowed, clutching the envelope of photos. “Y-you lied to me.”
But my whispered words never reached Maxim because Coach Whittaker stepped up to the podium. “All right, time to take your seats.”
Maxim
Something was wrong. Not a little worrisome but deeply amiss with Ida Jane. Keelie kept shooting me angry looks that seared my skin, but it was Ida Jane’s stricken, hurt expression that I couldn’t get over. She sat in her chair next to me, but she wasn’t really there. She didn’t eat, didn’t drink, didn’t speak.
“Are you sick?” I asked.
She didn’t move, didn’t seem to hear me.
I touched her shoulder, and she flinched, hard. “Don’t.”
“What’s wrong? Tell me so I can fix it.”
She inhaled and raised her eyes to mine. “You can’t.”
“I will—”
“Did you go see Dillon?”
I frowned. How did she know that? Keelie must have been listening because she leaned across Cormac and said, venom heavy in her voice, “The pregnant lady told us you threatened him.”
Well, shit. I glanced over at Cormac, looking for backup. He shook his head, clearly not liking this situation. My gaze sought Cruz, but he was at a different table, laughing and joking with Stol. That poor bastard had no idea he was about to become a father, and Ida Jane refused to let me tell him, and I was angry with her about that. I hadn’t handled our “talk” about kids well because of it.
I glanced back down at Ida Jane, whose stare burned into mine. “I did.”
“And you didn’t tell me.” She swallowed.
“I didn’t want you to worry,” I said. “I knew you would, so—”
“So you lied.” The hairs on my arms and the back of my neck rose at her tone. Something else was going on.
“No. I just didn’t tell you.”
Ida Jane remained so still. I hated this unanimated version of herself. “What else haven’t you told me?” she asked.
My heart pounded. Many things. They were ugly, and I didn’t want her to know. I liked how she saw me—as a good man, a caring husband. I needed her to believe I embodied those roles. I did but only for her.
“This isn’t the place for this conversation,” I snapped.
Ida Jane dropped her face back to the full plate in front of her, shoulders slumped. “You’re right.”
She returned to that eerie stillness. Naomi and Nicole appeared just as worried about Ida Jane as Keelie, and our table remained subdued under a cloud of tension.
As soon as the dinner portion ended, I touched Ida Jane’s arm. “Let’s leave.”
“I don’t want to go with you,” she said.
“We’re going to talk about whatever’s bothering you—”
She slapped an envelope into my hand. “This is. Now, if you’ll excuse me.”
She rose and walked away, chin up. Naomi, Keelie, and Nicole followed, surrounding her like bodyguards.
“The fuck was that?” Adam, our goalie, asked. He stared after his wife, Naomi, who led the charge out of the ballroom. “I’ve never seen Naomi that pissed.”
I opened the envelope and swore as I flipped through the photos.
Cormac leaned over and whistled. “Well, now I get why Keelie’s upset. Ida Jane must be devastated.”
“These aren’t…they’re not…”
“Looks like a wild time,” Adam offered. He sighed, a troubled expression settling on his face. “Now I get why Naomi was acting like that. Those photos bring up bad memories of my past. Shit, man. It takes her weeks to come out of a funk.”
Adam lifted his glass of whiskey and downed it in one gulp.
I slid the photos back into the envelope and closed the flap, shoving them into my inner suit pocket. Heat burned up my neck and ears. The pregnant lady was nearby—the one from Dillon’s place. She waggled her fingers at me, a vicious expression on her face.
Dillon’s girlfriend expected me to cave under these photos because of the hurt she caused Ida Jane.
“Fuck that,” I muttered.
“What?” Adam asked. He hadn’t moved, didn’t seem to want to—no doubt because he was worried about Naomi’s reaction.
“I’m sorry,” I said. I glared at the pregnant woman. “I made a mistake. Cruz told me I was being stupid, and I was. I wanted to protect my wife…”
“Nothing wrong with that,” Adam said with a sigh. “But it’s clearly backfired and now the CATS are upset.”
Cormac strode off, following Keelie. He was the most likely of us to be able to soothe his woman—and hopefully the rest of them.
When he came back a few minutes later, his expression was grim. “Ida Jane’s coming to our place tonight, apparently. Keelie said don’t call her.”
I clenched my fists. “That doesn’t work for me.”
“Well, we’re about to leave for another game, and I don’t think you should try to talk to her right now. She’s not just angry; she’s really upset.”
“All the more reason—”
“Leave it, Maximum,” Adam said. He shook his head. “Those were a shock. She needs to process.”
“Don’t call me that,” I ground out.
Adam blinked, confused. “Maximum?”
“I hate that name. More so now.”
Dawning understanding grew on their expressions. “It’s related to that night?” Adam asked, gesturing toward me.
I’d been new in the league. A rookie who’d never had the freedoms America offered. My old teammates liked to let off steam with puck bunnies…lots of puck bunnies. The orgies were a well-known part of the team’s culture, and it was one of the reasons I’d been glad to get traded to an organization more focused on winning than partying.
My nickname, Maximum, the one I disliked so intensely came from the night of the photos—the night I had the maximum score.
I wasn’t proud of that night or my choices, knew Nadia would have hated my behavior. And now, by trying to be part of a community there, I’d hurt and sickened my wife now.
“I thought it was about maximum damage,” Cormac said, frowning.
“Clearly, that’s now happened,” Adam muttered.
Chapter 20
Ida Jane
I huddled in Cormac’s living room, too numb to do anything more than stare blankly at the wall. Slippers had settled into my lap, purring loudly.
Nicole and her husband, Quintin, had dropped us off, stating they needed to get home to their kids. She’d insisted on sitting in the back seat of their huge SUV and hugged me the entire way to Cormac’s place. These women had absorbed me into their group and made me part of their family. Yet, in this moment, I felt so alone.
“You okay?” Naomi asked me for probably the fiftieth time. I just didn’t know how to answer her, and she would not believe me, anyway. I wasn’t okay. My heart, which Maxim bruised earlier with his comments about not wanting a family, was now smashed into little pieces because of his lies.
I closed my eyes and those images of him with other women flooded my mind. I opened my eyes, my belly twisted with disgust.
“For what it’s worth, I don’t think Maxim’s had an affair, you know, since you got married,” Naomi said. “We would have known.”
I nodded because I’d watched the Wildcatters players talk amongst themselves. They were close-knit, and they supported and protected their own. These guys accepted me as Maxim’s wife and many of the guys had thanked me for ensuring he got to play out the rest of the season. But that meant they might want to protect Maxim because they knew he needed me until his Green Card situation was formalized.
Slippers, clearly bored by us, leaped out of my lap and sauntered off toward a ball of yarn, which she batted between her paws.
“That woman was trying to hurt you,” Keelie said.
“She did.”
I stared down at my beautiful shoes. I’d been so excited to wear them, and I’d felt powerful in them. What a farce. Stella’s comment stung because I was just a pass-through moment for Maxim. A necessary point in his career whereas I’d started thinking about a future with him.
Keelie leaned her head against my shoulder. “I know.”
Naomi circled her arms around my waist as she dropped her chin onto the top of my head.
“I don’t know what to do. What to believe,” I whispered.
“What feels right?” Naomi asked.
I stared down at my hands, which lay face up in my lap. I still wore my pretty gown, but it was crumpled now, thanks to my incessant plucking at the fabric. I’d gotten too tired to even continue that nervous habit. Everything hurt, especially my heart.
This evening had started with such promise, and now…now I hurt worse than when I found out Dillon had lied and cheated. I knew why, too: I’d never loved Dillon like I loved Maxim.
Keelie and Naomi rose after a door slammed and voices drifted into the room. I lifted my head and watched Cormac hug Keelie and Adam stalk Naomi, tugging her into his arms and whispering into her ear. Both of my friends melted into their men.
They had love—the sticking kind. I was glad for them.
Maxim entered my vision and I couldn’t look away. He appeared tormented, and my heart ached yet again. Love, for me, was nothing but pain, and I never wanted to go through this again.
“I’m taking you home,” Maxim said as he crouched in front of me.
“I don’t want to go.”
He laid his large hands on the cushions on either side of my legs. “I know.”
Adam led Naomi from the room, their faces somber. Cormac bent over Keelie, kissing her deeply. I didn’t want to stay here, either. At least Blade was at Maxim’s house.
“Fine,” I said. “But I’m sleeping upstairs.”
Maxim rose. “We’ll see.”
I let Maxim tug me to my feet.
“I already talked to Lance. He’s going to handle the whole Dillon, girlfriend, photos situation,” Maxim said.
“Okay.” I didn’t know what else to say.
Maxim must not have either because, once again, we made the car trip in silence. This time, it was a few blocks. I looked out the window, which reflected Maxim’s profile. He frowned—nothing new there—but there was a different tilt to his chin.
I closed my eyes, unable to handle more. If I’d known about his past, I would have been able to process my feelings, and I wouldn’t have been blindsided. But he hadn’t told me. Which made me wonder what else he was keeping from me.
“We’re home,” Maxim said as he shifted the car into Park.
Was it? I’d considered it mine, briefly, but was it? I no longer knew. Crazy how one evening could so disrupt the foundations I had built my life on.
I stepped out of the car and headed inside and slipped off my shoes, uncaring where they landed. I never wanted to see them again. I tugged out my earrings with jerky movements, tossing them toward the kitchen counter. One missed and pinged as it hit the floor. I didn’t watch it slide across the tile. I started on my dress, needing it off. Suddenly, I was suffocating in these clothes.
“Stop. You’re clawing your skin. Stop, Ida Jane.”
I sucked in a harsh breath, the edges of my vision black. Maxim held my hands. I pulled them away. “Don’t.”
“I’ll just help you take off your dress. That’s all.”
“No. I don’t want you to touch me. You—you were with those women. All those women…” Again, my vision tunneled.
He reached up to cup my cheeks, but I batted his hands away.
“There weren’t that many.”
“How do I know that?”
“Because I’m telling you—”
“I saw those pictures. If you did that once, it’s likely you did so again.”
He winced, and I knew I was right.
“God. God.” I headed toward the stairs.
“It’s not what it looks like—”
“Really?” I raised my eyebrows. “You promised you’d be honest. That was the deal. You also promised to be faithful.” Tears blurred my vision. Blade pressed into my side, a reassuring weight. I slid my hands into his fur.
“I have been.” Maxim slid his hands through his hair, down his cheeks. “That was years ago, during my first season—”
“When you told me you were either at practice or learning English in your apartment?” My voice was shrill and grating. I cringed.
I never fell apart. Ever. Not when I broke my arm after being thrown from a horse, not when Dillon admitted to cheating, and not when Dillon accosted and hurt me. Yet now, tears welled and spilled. I dashed them away as I glowered.
“I went to a few parties,” Maxim began hesitantly.
I snorted. “That’s more than a party. That was an orgy.”
He narrowed his eyes. “What does it matter? It’s the distant past.”
“So, it wouldn’t matter if I’d screwed my way through, say, all the fraternities at U of H?”
“Did you?” he growled.
“So what if I did? It’s the distant past.”
He gnashed his teeth, and Blade stepped between us, a rumble deep in his chest.
“Don’t use the dog against me,” Maxim snapped.
Blade’s rumble grew louder.
“I’m not,” I said. “He’s worried about me because of how you’re acting. Get out of my way so I can go to bed—without you, you lying…liar!”
Maxim blinked at me, as if unable to believe my words. “You’d take that woman’s word over mine?” Hurt crept into his expression, his voice.
“No.” I sniffled. “I take those pictures and your own words against what you told me before. You lied to me, Maxim.”
“I needed you, Ida Jane. I needed this.” He waved his hand between us. “Would you have agreed to marry me if you knew about those nights from five years ago?”
“I don’t know,” I answered. “You never gave me a chance to decide for myself.”
He shuffled closer. “I couldn’t take that chance.” He cupped the back of my neck, his thumb running down my cheek. I shuddered, loving his touch, desperate to lean into it, but too upset to trust in it and him.
“To be honest?” I stepped away, met his gaze. His shuttered. Right. “I’m going to bed.”
“I want this settled—”
“Not now.” I swallowed down the hysteria bubbling up in my chest. “I can’t do this with you now.”
I slid my beautiful ring off my finger and laid it on the bureau. Then, I curled into a ball and cried myself to sleep. All I had left now was my pride. Fierce thankfulness settled over me as I realized I’d never had the chance tonight to tell him I loved him.
Thankfully, Maxim had another away game, and the team traveled there on Saturday afternoon. I refused to come downstairs Saturday while he was hovering in the main part of the house. Once he realized that, he disappeared into his gym. I’d heard him on the stairs when I came down to grab some food and water, but I ignored him when he tried to talk.
I should engage. I should listen. But I couldn’t. My mind spun too fast, too hard, and my emotions pinged everywhere from despondent to so angry I wanted to break things. Being so out of control scared me. I needed…security.
And Stella stole that. Maxim, too, with his lies of omission. Now, I wasn’t emotionally safe. I was…a hot fucking mess.
The day was long, tortuous. Lance sent both Maxim and me updates on the libel case he was building against Stella and Dillon. I ignored the messages. Maxim departed for the airport around noon, having delayed leaving for as long as possible.
He left me a note, written in his careful scrawl. I ignored that too. By the time I climbed into bed that night, I was so exhausted, tears leaked from my eyes.
Sunday dawned hot and sharp. Much as I didn’t want to get out of bed, the girls and I were watching the game at Maxim’s—my—our home. We had a rotation, so I showered and made up a bunch of snacks, including my apple butter, which I planned to eat it all. At least the house smelled nice.
Naomi, Mimi, and Keelie arrived, trepidation stamped into their features.
“Nicole couldn’t come,” Naomi said after she’d hugged me. “Her youngest is sick.”
I nodded. “Wine’s in the fridge.”
“Paloma wanted to be here,” Keelie said. That was Coach Whittaker’s wife. I shook my head, hating the idea. I loved Paloma as a person, but I wasn’t ready to deal with the fallout from the gala.
“Don’t worry, she can’t. She and Trix had already planned to go to the game and spend some time in San Diego for Trix’s spring break.”
I let out a relieved sigh. Blade rose from his bed and asked to go out.
“Want me to pour you a glass?” Naomi asked, holding a bottle of Chardonnay. It was my favorite. Maxim stockpiled it for me.
“Yeah. A big one.”
“I love those leggings,” Mimi said. She was quieter than normal, too. And my leggings were an old pair that had been in the suitcase Keelie had packed for me all those months ago. I’d left them in the upstairs bureau, along with a few other items. I’d yet to return to Maxim’s bedroom. I wasn’t ready for that.
“Thanks.” I frowned, noting Keelie had her putter on her shoulder. “Why do you have that?”
“To practice my putt,” she said, as if that were the most normal thing anyone would do at a hockey-watching gathering.
“Why?” I asked.
Blade barked, loud and incessant. He’d been unhappy, no doubt sensing how off things were between Maxim and me.
